Bees are amazing creatures, honey

Rae and I have been proud honeybee producers for over 25 years, off and on, and I can say with some confidence that my knowledge of bee management has barely increased over that time. Bees are a mystery.

For example, we had a hive that turned vicious this spring. In early May we opened up the hive, searching for the queen to ensure that she was healthy and laying eggs. The bees didn’t take kindly to our intrusion and basically found every possible way to access my bee hood and sting me. I have never been stung so many times.

Later, we determined that they were likely on the verge of running out of food. Who knew that bees could be “hangry”? The reason for the food shortage was that the hive’s queen bee was very healthy and able to lay lots of eggs this spring, which in turn meant that the hive was very active. With lots of bees in the hive but no sources of flowers due to the late spring, the hive had used up most of their honey stores, despite the fact that we fed them multiple times in the fall and again this spring.

Now that the dandelions are finally flowering, along with a staggering number of other plants that had obviously been waiting for 30 C temperatures, the bees are busy collecting fresh pollen and nectar and the hive is much better behaved. Thank goodness, as I was starting to take it personally.

I know readers will know the basics about bees. They are hardworking, of course, and are important pollinators of flower plants, including canola and most of our fruit crops. In this article, instead of hoeing that same old row, I thought I would concentrate on the process of swarming, a small but interesting part in the world of honeybees.

One spring, our elementary class took a tour of a local apiary. In hindsight, I kind of wonder whether the teacher had done much in the way of risk assessment given that there were 25 excited kids and about a thousand excited bees hanging around a small area. Luckily, no bees or students were damaged by the visit, but I can well imagine the mayhem that would have unfolded once one kid got stung, with the resulting follow-up conversations with parents (but then again, it was the 1970s and parents were generally ignorant of what went on in school)!

Anyway, one lasting memory of that field trip was the presence of a swarm. I assume that the beekeeper explained the intricacies of the behaviour related to the cluster of bees hanging on a willow branch, but it was lost on me as I stared at the living ball of bees.

I now know that swarming is the way a beehive, as a single unit, reproduces to create a second hive. What surprised me, though, is that the decision to swarm is a democratic one, with the worker bees, not the queen, signalling it’s time to reproduce.

Once the workers feel that the hive is too crowded, they start the process of making new queens by feeding royal jelly to larva in an extra-large egg cell. One of these larvae will grow into the new ruler of the hive.

But what happens to the original queen? At some point, the old queen leaves the hive with about half the worker bees, creating a swirling mass of flying and buzzing worker bees, hence the name swarm.

Whenever the old queen lands outside the hive, a ball of worker bees encases her, presumably to protect her from harm. In the meantime, scouts are sent out in search of a new suitable home, often in hollow trees, but occasionally in chimneys and other human structures. Once a site is chosen, the workers will begin to build honeycomb, and the queen will begin laying eggs.

As for the situation back in the original hive, events unfold like a made-for-TV-movie full of drama, murder and sex. It takes just over two weeks for any of the new queens to develop and leave their cell. It’s a race for survival, as the workers wait to see which of the cells will hatch first, releasing the first virgin queen. That’s the drama part.

Why the drama? Timing is everything, as the first queen to break free of her cell will quickly search out the other unhatched queens and kill them. That’s the murder part. The sex part is just as intriguing.

On a sunny calm day, the virgin queen will leave the hive, and to avoid mating with any drones from her hive (which are effectively her half-brothers), she will fly 7.5 kilometres or more to areas called “drone congregating areas.” As the name suggests, these are hangout spots for hundreds of male bees (drones) from local hives, waiting for an unmated queen to show up.

The queen releases sex pheromones that get the waiting males all fired up. Mating takes place on the wing, and the queen doesn’t mess around, mating with 10 to 15 males during the afternoon. Alas, the successful males don’t get to see their offspring as they die in the process of reproduction.

Once mating is completed, the now fertilized queen flies back to her original hive and will likely never leave it again until the next time the hive decides to swarm, in which case she will be expected to leave the hive in search of new digs.

See what I mean? Bees are fabulous. And I haven’t covered several other superpowers that they have, suggesting that I will be writing more about them in the future.

On signing off, I want to mention the plight of wild bees and other native pollinators. Declining due to loss of habitat, wild pollinators need our help. One way to support these species is to provide temporary patches of habitat in the form of your lawn. “No Mow Mays,” in which homeowners and Municipalities pledge to leave grassy areas unmowed for the month of May, provide important early season nectar and pollen sources in the form of dandelions, creeping Charlie, and other early flowering “weeds.”

If the thought of untidy lawns makes you a bit jittery, consider planting a garden featuring early flowering perennials instead. This will serve the same purpose by increasing the biodiversity in your yard. Thanks to Donna Maria Yaskiw from Hamiota for reminding me of this important initiative.

» Ken Kingdon lives in the heart of the Riding Mountain Biosphere Reserve. Send him a text at 204-848-5020 if you have stories to share.