I'm covered in bees!

A long time ago, when I was an O' level studying teen, my biology teacher tried to get me interested in bees. I assume, because I certainly can't remember, that it must have been my second or third biology lesson when he took me to one side and showed me his collection of dead bees. At the time I didn't think too much of this other than "Why is he showing me dead bees?". Looking back now I think he may have spotted some potential in me and wanted to build on it, fool. Perhaps he thought by enthusing me fully and encouraging me to step outside the usual ethos of modern education he could get me to enjoy learning for the sake of it, rather than just as a means to an end, ie, to get out of school and into the world. Unfortunately for him I was a teenager dealing with the usual issues of strange growths, vocal deepenings, the discovery of alcohol, ladies, nightclubs and peer group pressure. Fortunately for me he was an excellent and enthusiastic teacher and made both my O and A level biology exams a breeze to pass. On getting a C in my A level biology he managed to express gross disappointment in my work ethic while letting me know I had the ability to do better "You should have got an A, but you didn't deserve to get a C". These words are backed up by the only other comment I remember from my school days, spoken by my sixth form head in a tutorial, with a fair degree of surprised good humour, "(Super)Dave", he said "I never realised you were so lazy". He was another excellent teacher and a brilliant clarinet player. They both had beards and PhD's, not sure if this is relevant. But please, forgive an old man his harmless ramblings, these things were such a long time ago. On to the bees of today and my recent encounter.

On my recent visit to the Colchester Avenue site to visit fellow allotmenteer Vines I was introduced to Tim, or was it Luke, anyway you can find out more about Tim and Luke at WeeditandReap. But don't rush off yet!

Tim, or was it... well let's say Tim. Tim gave me a quick tour of his plot and showed me the two beehives he has caged off on his allotment. The cages, of galvanised steel mesh, are to force the bees up into the air when they leave the hive. They could easily fly through the gaps in the mesh but choose not too (I watched them not do it), I can only assume they are so intent on the job at hand that they have no time for aerobatic fun, or they are just nervous creatures. The cage was one of the stipulations of the council who were not at all keen on having hives on the allotment for reasons I don't fully understand. I then returned to Ms. Vines to complete the promised digging, accidentally destroy a red ants nest, chat and generally proffer some vague advice re beetroots.

As promised Tim (Yes! It was Tim, just looked at WeeditandReap) called me over to observe one of his regular inspections of the beehive. I traipsed over and bravely stood just outside the mesh fence to get a good view. As Tim got himself suited and booted in the latest beehive fashion complete with hat, veil, two layers of clothing, trousers tucked in socks and gloves securely taped he suggested I stand a bit further back..further..a bit more...just a little bit more...mmm right back on to the path..that's it, you should be ok there. I felt slightly less brave as Tim explained that he was being overcautious as he was a beginner, and this nest is really very placid, and if they do do start bothering you just run away calmly down the path, waving your hands around your head. He then took his smoke can in hand and headed into the caged area.

The smoke can (or bee smoker, if you need to know the proper buzz word) contains nothing more exciting than a bit of burning wood which is pumped out with bellows. It works on two levels, first of all it prevents the guard bees from releasing the pheromones normally released when a hive is under attack. These pheromones would alert the middle aged bees (the ones with the most venom) and cause a defensive attack on the intruder. The smoke also cause all the other bees to assume (if a bee can indeed make assumptions) that the hive is on fire, they react to this by gorging themselves on honey just in case they need to make a swift exit and set up hive elsewhere, this honey gorging also has a pacifying effect, apparently.

Tim uses National hives, I won't go into the construction of these, just follow the link. The basic principle is that the bees have an entrance, exit and frames in which to build honeycombs, raise new bees and store honey. The clever bit is the queen excluder, a sheet of holes through which the workers and honey makers can pass but the queen cannot. Above the queen excluder is a set of frames inaccessible to the queen where honey is laid down but where no eggs can be laid. This will be the source of all the honey for human consumption. Bees will lay down honey for winter storage and energy anyway, but separating it from the queen ensures that it can be accessed without disturbing any of next years new bees.

From my distant view point I was able to see the beginnings of the honeycomb already constructed by the industrious little chaps, some of them with eggs and honey already in place. The bees were all very placid, as promised, and at no point caused me any bother whatsoever, a blessed relief considering the bell bottom shorts I was wearing. In reconstructing the hive Tim was remarkably gentle and considerate, treating each bee like a new born kitten and ensuring that none were trapped or crushed as the various layers were slotted back together.

The attitude of the council to beehives in allotments is rather strange, though possibly understandable. Bees are the life blood of allotments, without them there would very little pollination going on. They are a major pollinator of flowering plants and without them we would have no beans on our allotments. This is easily demonstrated if one spends just five minutes watching runner or french bean flowers on a sunny day. It is estimated that one third of the human food supply does depend on bee pollination, so banning them from allotments does seem a little silly. Einstein once said, allegedly,

"If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe then man would only have four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man".

It is likely that this is an exaggeration of the truth, and we'd have something like 60 years before we died out, or at least seriously reduced in number. This would not necessarily be a bad thing but I would rather keep hold of the bee, my recent experience of the little stripy critters has certainly raised them high in my estimations and affections. Thanks Tim.

Slugs on the other hand.......