From Sea to Bee - A Reluctant Beekeeper

Here is a beekeeping story written by a good friend and colleague, Eleanor Orr. Her late husband, Neil Orr, helped start NOD Apiary Products. She sent it to me this morning and it is definitely worth sharing!

A RELUCTANT BEEKEEPER by Eleanor Orr

Fireflies. Now that is really something to see. If I weren’t here in this cluttered, beeswax-scented truck on a warm June night, I’d miss this dazzling show. At least something
is positive. I am hot, tired and uncomfortable. Clad in coveralls, boots, gloves and hat with veil, I sit patiently waiting. That is not true. I am not patiently waiting. Neil get back here! I want to go home!
We are parked in a bee yard on a remote farm having just returned hives from an apple orchard to their home base. These hives were loaded and taken to the orchard several days ago. Now that part of this pollination procedure was not bad. Neil had already designated the hives that we would take, closed the entrances and secured each hive with rope before picking me up to help load the hives. We drove to the orchard where pallets had been placed previously, usually in a group. We unloaded the hives, Neil opened the entrances and we returned home. No big deal.
The number of hives ordered by the orchardist is determined by the size of the orchard. Our truck can hold fifteen hives. If more are required, we must make two trips. Since we are hired by several orchardists each spring, this means a trip when the blossoms in a particular orchard are just right for pollination.
Why do this at night? Honeybees return to the hive at dusk and emerge again when the sun warms the hive. If the weather turns threatening, bees head for home. They also stay inside if the weather is cold or wet.
It only takes one day of good weather for the honeybees to pollinate an entire orchard. The orchardist calls when he is ready to spray the blossoms with insecticide. It is imperative the hives be removed before that happens.
. Returning the hives to the bee yard, is where the hard part begins. It is pitch black except for stars and perhaps a moon. The ground is not flat and we have to maneuver between hives that were left in the bee yard. The hive must be handled gently and set down on the pallet facing the correct direction. Any jarring and the bees will be angry, suspecting a marauding black bear, skunk or raccoon. Picture two adults, one 6 feet tall and one 5 feet, four inches, lifting and carrying a hive in the dark, in silence, over uneven terrain endeavoring to find the correct spot for the hive. Because of the pollen and nectar the bees have brought in, the hives are heavy. There are bound to be some bees traveling on the outside of the hives that escaped before the entrances were closed.
When the hives are all back in place, I wait tensely, suspecting some stray bees have decided to keep me company in the truck. Neil cautiously opens the hive entrances so the bees can resume their normal routine. This requires some time as the hives are here and there throughout the beeyard. He is efficient and in no hurry.
At last! I hear Neil at the back of the truck. He is loading some empty supers he has decided to take back to the home yard. He gets in and starts the engine. The truck bumps out of the beeyard onto the dirt lane. I open the window and take off my hat and gloves.
“That went well, don’t you think? Tomorrow I’ll remove the constraints from the hives and check to see if more frames are needed to prevent over- crowding. The hives are all heavier than when we took them to the orchard so I am assuming every hive is thriving.” Neil reaches over to squeeze my leg. “Everything okay?” He turns up the volume on the classical music station he always listens to.
Back home Neil lets me out and drives to the bee yard at the back of the honey house.
I strip off my beekeeping outfit, pour a glass of cold white wine and head for the bath. Ah! This is so delightful; almost makes it all worthwhile.
I hear Neil come into the house. I loll in the lovely hot water and enjoy the thought that we did it and it is over. The bathroom door opens and Neil says, “I suspected I’d find you here. Thanks for your help. Oh, by the way, there was a message from Bill Henderson. He wants the hives removed from his orchard tomorrow.

I lie back in the comforting, fragrant warmth. Ah, well. Maybe I’ll be lucky and the fireflies will perform for me again.