It truly seems just a month or two ago that I skimmed the eight small frames of the top tier of the hive. Grapes are now harvested and the backyard is once again tidy. I have been putting off dealing with the "bearding" that has been going on for a couple of weeks on the hive. But now, I have no excuse.
During the late Spring harvest of honey I received three stings. Granted I was wearing shorts and a shirt, but I did have on my full-head mosquito net. Today I had on my full-body mechanic's outfit; complete with rubber bands at the wrists and ankles, 12" long leather welding gloves, and the mosquito net. I was ready.
The smoke pot was puffing, the large plastic storage box was ready to receive the top frames, and the extension cord was plugged into Anne's hair drier and set on cool to blow harboring critters off the frames as I pulled them. I had to discourage brother Bill's insistence that I use the shop vac to remove the bearded ones who were hoarding prime space on the front. His logic came down to the thought that there were way too many bees in the first place.
I first smoked the entrance. As soon as I did that, the beard disappeared. That was painless. When one opens the hive you need to do it as peacefully as possible. Well, we were in for it here. Since the last time I raided their stash they had become a bit smarter. They figured out that I got in by removing the top. Some of the worker bees are welders. They applied enough glue to the inside lip of the lid that I had to crowbar it off. This was not peaceful.
Smoke can't be applied to the top of the frames until the lid is ajar. By the time that had been accomplished the army had mustered. Smoke is only used to prevent the pheromones emitted by the guard bees from being sensed by the mass. If they are unaware, all is well. Needing the crowbar is what communicated to the entire hive there was a problem. This harvest I really benifited by all of the protective wear.
I didn't think I could ever see so much honey on and between each frame. I began prying loose and removing the frames. As I got one out I held it for Bill, who used the hair drier to clear the frame, then I placed it in the storage box. And so it progressed. I had received but one sting through my sock. Bill had gotten one on his wrist.
I lugged the box to the table on the deck. I knew there were a few hangers-on on the frames in the box. I will use my 4" soft paint brush to shoo them away as I come to them. I then returned to the hive to collect the rest of the hardware. It was already in the high 80's and I wanted out of the thick garb.
I didn't see or hear it coming, and I don't know how it made it inside my head netting, but it did. A bee was suddenly on my ear. I swatted and swatted; not considering that the bee was inside the net with me. She got me on the ear lobe and before I could remove the net, it had crawled into my ear.
I tore the net away and began flapping at my ear. Buzz, buzz, crawl and wiggle were the only things on my mind, literally. The bee in the ear is a bit like playing with a Chinese finger puzzle; it can only move in one direction. And it did.
Bill and Anne couldn't see the bee so they used a turkey baster to try to flush it out. The bee didn't greet the moisture well. Having rested a few minutes, it re-awakened. While it battled to pass a wax barricade my mouth and hands were directing a rock musical. Bill thought of using some vinegar and water to bring an early demise to the bee. It worked. Peace.
No, I didn't want to go to the emergency ward. A call to my primary MD resulted in the suggestion that I go to one of the Urgent Care clinics. So we did. A half hour later the doctor gave up her tweezers and said she would refer me to the EN&T offices. The EN&T would call me when they had a vacancy. So, $15 later, we went home.
The only real downside to having a dead Russian worker bee in your ear is that they typically impede your hearing; otherwise, I didn't know it was there (really, I did, though). Bill and I were getting ready to strip the frames when my phone began to ring. By the time Anne retrieved it from my pocket, it had stopped. An unknown caller, she reports. A beep told me there was now a message. In a few minutes I was at a point where I could remove the honey sticky latex gloves and listen to the message. It was the EN&T office saying they could see me right away.
The doctor used a vacuum tube that was only about a mm in diameter. I'm thinking there's no way he's going to suck the bee out with that! Alas, after a few probes I felt some mass moving. The doctor held out the tube with the rear end of the bee suctioned tightly to it. I removed the soggy bee from the suction's grip. Boy, it seemed small and harmless.
One never quite knows what type of residue a bee may leave behind when she wanders into her master's ear. To play it safe, the doctor gave me a course of ear drops. A short diatribe later I knew all about his father's own bee keeping experiences. I paid my $35 copay and left.
Lesson learned: Put plugs in your ears. And while you're at it, put them in your nose too. To a bee, one orifice probably looks pretty much like another.
The honey is beautiful. I've filtered the wax out and after bottling it looks like 2011 blessed us with ~4 gallons. I left plenty in the hive to see the animals through a rough winter. 'Till next I see them bearding, I'm on to other things.
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