My cat, Mab
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| Let's talk about ... cats, dogs, horses, bunnies, hamsters... or anything with fur! (or feathers, not sure about scales though) |
Bees.
Do bees count as something furry? Yeah, why not ... they look furry, even if they are not exactly cuddly furry!
A Meditation of Bee
Today I walked past the field where I learned bee-keeping six years ago and I wished the bees well. They replied with the buzz of happy foragers.
Of course, they’re not the same bees that I knew then. Worker bees only live six weeks in the spring and summer, and the Queen lives a maximum of six years. But the hives are still there, painted in the bright colours that bees like.
Bees do not like black. The only black is the paint the Beemaster used for their names: Rosemary, Thyme and other herbs or flowers, in French, because I live in Provence and the Beemaster is a local. My beehives were named by my husband AKA Assistant Beekeeper: Endeavour, Resolution and Diligence.
‘You never forget the first time you go in with the bees.’ So the Beemaster told me. I now know that bees have strong opinions on many things. They do not like wool or dogs. They hate thunderstorms, rain or wind.
That first time, I knew nothing. Most of my fellow-students came from beekeeping families but I didn’t even know that drones (male bees) can’t sting. The macho contingent among my fellow-beekeepers showed off bare-handed and bare-headed while I wore my new protective jacket and gloves and wondered whether I would die if stung a lot.
I thought ‘probably not’ as I’ve never had an allergic reaction but the idea of ‘a lot’ worried me. So did the bees themselves. Bees also dislike fear. It winds them up. I did not find this a reassuring thought, especially as the Mistral had started up. The Beemaster stuck to his plan and demonstrated a hive visit, lifting each frame, inspecting it for brood (bee eggs), pollen and honey.
My guts were churning as I waited for my turn, unwilling to say no but worried I’d screw up. I said yes. Probably so I didn’t have to ‘look forward to it’ for another fortnight. The initiation rite of one hive visit involves levering a sticky frame up from the big brood box and stating what you can see, turning it to look at both sides. While focusing through thousands of bees, who on this occasion were thoroughly wound up by the Mistral. Then repeating this for ten frames. This experience is nothing like looking at photos.
Advice I wish I'd been given before going in with the bees? Wipe your nose - it will run, the minute you're trapped in a bee jacket and mask. Tie your hair back. Your hair gets in your eyes, your glasses slip down your nose and prodding at your face through the mesh is likely to draw blood or squash a bee against your skin. The funniest thing I've seen is someone answering a mobile phone through a bee outfit.
One number stuck in my mind from the start. In a healthy beehive, there are typically fifty thousand bees. And it felt that way, lifting frames and looking into their home. After the initial buzz of outrage at the invasion, the bees calmed. I think the smoker helped but it’s not as effective on a windy day. Beekeepers have been using smoke since antiquity and the current scientific theory as to why it calms bees is that it masks the scent they release as a danger alarm. I’m not totally convinced by that as the hive mind is way too intelligent to miss the fact that there is smoke everywhere – a clear and present danger!
A frame can be surprisingly heavy and inspecting the comb while bees zip around, or crawl on frames, is fascinating. The more you know about bees, the more you see and the excitement if you spot the queen is equal to the fear of accidentally killing her.
The Beemaster was an expert in bees and rough with humans. His teaching style was to shout at you for doing something wrong and French word order made things worse, even when I understood what was said.
The ‘pas’ meaning ‘DON’T! always came after the instruction.
‘Touche… PAS!’ is confusing compared with ‘DON’T touch!’
I was clumsy and sliding a frame carefully back into a tight place, without squidging bees, is an acquired skill. You have to leave out two or three frames and use the space to lift, look and move the others, then slot back the last frames – carefully.
I was stung once, through my glove - welcome to beekeeping – but I was too interested to be scared. I completed my one hive and my nerves settled enough for me to learn. If I focused on the activities round me rather than individual bees flying by my face, I could ignore the angry dive-bombing and tapping at my mask.
Until my instinct told me that a bee was inside my mask, not outside . 'Paranoia,' I thought. 'Fact,' my more sensible perception told me.
'Yikes,' I thought, as I focused on said bee hitching a ride on the inside of my face mask. I walked a long long way from the angry hives and luckily my pet bee was calmer than I felt and flew off when I took off the jacket and released her. Then I did a real 'Yikes' dance. And another one when I was given the advice on not opening your mouth when a bee can go into it. So that's what could have happened, I tried not to think.
Another piece of advice that came too late for one of my classmates was to check very carefully for unwanted company when you remove your protective clothing. It's a bit like climbers falling off a mountain on the way down; beekeepers get stung when they've finished working. Your guard is down, you're a long way from the hives and you don't notice the one bee sitting on your shoulder/head/glove. They're attracted by the lovely smells you've acquired while raiding their hive and they travel with you a long way. When the Beemaster turned up at my house in his battered 2CV, I noted the one obligatory bee in the back of his car - like taking your dog out with you.
I came off lightly from that first session compared with the lively nine-year old who'd insisted on accompanying his father, didn't sit far enough away from the action and was stung several times on his bare head. Health and safety is different in Provence. Sheltering in a car after that, the little boy was sharp-eyed at spotting bees still clinging to clothes, but as he screamed 'Kill it!' every time he saw one, I feel that the lesson was counter-productive for his future as a conservationist.
That was the inauspicious start to my beekeeping. Since then I’ve experienced some black rages (the bees’ – I’m not owning up to mine) but usually my bees are in sunshine mood, when you can open a hive and feel how interconnected everything in the natural world is, including humans. And we now have fifty jars of honey from our own hives stored in the cellar. It is unquestionably the best honey in the world.
When I started pondering the gap between humans and ‘nature’ and wondering ‘What if you could go into a hive as a bee?’ I knew I would, in my fantasy novel Queen of the Warrior Bees which is free until 31st May.
About Jean:
Jean Gill is an award-winning Welsh writer and photographer now living in the south of France with two scruffy dogs, a Nikon D750, a beehive named Endeavour, and a man. For many years, she taught English in Wales and was the first woman to be a secondary headteacher in Wales. She is mother or stepmother to five children so life was hectic.
Since her first book of poetry was published in 1988, Jean has written twenty-three books in various genres. She is best known for her recent Historical Fiction and fantasy novels but her work also includes a popular dog book and a cookery book on goat cheese. With Scottish parents, an English birthplace and French residence, she can usually support the winning team on most sporting occasions.
Contact Information for Jean Gill
Email jean.gill@wanadoo.fr
Youtube channel https://www.youtube.com/user/beteljean
Jean Gill’s awards and credits include:
2020 Royal Dragonfly Award (2nd place)
2020 and 2018 Finalist in the Kindle Book Awards
2019 Quarter-finalist in The Booklife Prize
Global Ebooks Award for Best Historical Fiction
IPPY Silver Award
Readers’ Favorites Bronze Award
Historical Novel Society’s Editor’s Choice
Historical Novel Society Short Story Competition 2nd Prize
Double 1st Prize winner in London Inc International Competition (Children’s Story and Journalism categories)
Finalist in the Cinnamon Press Novella Award
Finalist in the Wishing Shelf Awards
Finalist in the Chaucer Award
My Book
Queen of the Warrior Bees FREE until 31st May
Award-winning epic fantasy
One misfit girl and 50,000 bees against the might of the Citadel.
When Mielitta flees to the Forbidden Forest, she is transformed into a bee-shifter. Can she fulfil her destiny or will the Mages crush every cell of her second nature?
Block Nature out and she'll force a way in.
‘Beautiful yet tense… continually surprising and exciting.’ The Booklife Prize
‘Fabulous world-building and spellbinding intrigue,’ Karen Inglis
This was utterly fascinating, Jean. Now, as I drizzle honey on my yogurt, I'll always remember the exciting (and sometimes unnerving) care its collection takes. I hope people leave wildflowers to bloom, rather than poisoning their "plush and useless" lawn.
ReplyDeleteMmmm.... honey!!
DeleteThank you Inge! Every teaspoon of honey represents so much work from the bees (and a little from the beekeeper). Precious gold. Yes, definitely regarding wildflowers!
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