Like most things in life, beekeeping has its disappointments as well as its many joys.

I’ve been busy fetching swarms recently, at one point receiving on average three ‘phone calls a day, with both honey and bumble bee enquiries.  It’s done for free, as a public service, as to some having 20,000 bees in the garden is scary. I can’t imagine why.  Well I suppose the drones do make a lot of noise when they arrive, like adolescent school boys showing off to the girls. Sometimes I can’t help, such as when they’ve settled too high, or gone into a chimney or roof space.

It was during one recent swarm collection visit that I experienced a massive high and a rare down moment all in one. I was called to a garden I’d visited last year for a swarm, in fact in the same beech tree! There was the biggest prime swarm I’d ever seen.  A prime swarm is the first swarm of the year, when the mated queen leaves the nest with about 50% of the nest population. All I can say is it must be a large nest.

The swarm had appeared over the weekend, so had been there three days. Due to the heavy rain we were experiencing, the bees were tightly packed together and if my level of discomfort was anything to go by, they were wet and cold as well. The tree branches were trimmed in the name of speed and the clumps of bees gradually placed into the collection box. All done, soaked to the skin and dreaming of a hot bath, I took them back to my apiary. The bees were left with a promise that I would return the next night with some sugar syrup. However when I did return all the bees were dead in the bottom of their new home. Such a sad sight. Still not really sure why. Some friends have said overheating, yet others starvation. Ironically, the following night, once again soaked, I collected yet another swarm, but this time they survived. They had managed to stay dry in a hedge.

In between swarms, the bees have rewarded our love and care with the first honey harvest of the year. The weather is very warm at present and the nectar is flowing, so much so I’m having trouble keeping up with them.

Another amusement this time of year are the ‘phone calls “I’ve got bees in my garden!” [Well that’s good isn’t it.] “Can you come and remove them please?” The conversation then follows a similar pattern, such as: What type of bees? Where are they? Where are you? I had this conversation with a farmer yesterday. He thought they were honey bees, I realised they were humble bumbles. “Can you leave them? The nest will break down in a few months.” Transpired they were in the way of a new farm track, so I agreed to try and move them. Fortunately they were not underground but living on the surface in a wood pile and grass mowings. Beautiful yellow bands around their necks and buff bottoms (Bombus terrestris I think). Long story short, the bees were transferred into a waxed cardboard box and were soon flying in and out. Come 9:30 pm (dusk) the odd one or two were still flying, until all was silent. Popped in the bung and gently drove them to my apiary site. Hopefully they will have survived and decide they like this part of rural Hertfordshire, rather than the rural part of Hertfordshire 7 miles away they started in. We will see.