I always thought of beekeeping as a gentle, zen kind of experience. And it has been, until my hive became the target of robbers, ants and moths. And now? THIS IS WAR!!!!
The war began when I opened the hive and found wax moth larvae. Immediate action to destroy the enemy. AaAAck. This takes diligence. Daily visits to the hive to squish and squash. Hours taking apart the hive and cleaning all the nooks and crannies.
I reduce the hive to just enough comb so the bees have less territory to defend from the moths. With less comb, the bees spread themselves across the walls and floor and are busily, meticulously cleaning up. The wax moth no longer stands a chance against this little army/air force. The empty combs are wrapped and put in the freezer where they are safe from enemy invasion.
The next day I'm ready to do battle again. Open the hive and the ants have invaded. I refill the moats underneath the four legs and go on an ant squezing frenzy. A closer look behind the follower board and I find three moths! I squish one, and a second one, but it is only injured. As if we are working together, a bee swoops down on the moth and attacks it.* The third moth gets away.
During this thorough inspection I realize there isn't any honey. Not a stitch that I can see. At one time, combs were heavy with honey. I'm perplexed--where did it go? A little more research. My hive has been robbed! I watch a few videos of hive robbing both inside and outside, then head out to the hive to observe if we are being robbed.
Unbelievable! There is a battle going on at the front of the hive. An invader bee makes a kamikaze dive, a guardian bee crashes into her. A group of bees humming just above the entry sound like a group of Hell's Angels revving their Harleys. This is Mad Max down under. Hovering, waiting to attack. I hurry to reduce the size of the opening. I fortify the slight cracks at the sides of the hive. Make sure there aren't any gaps in the top bars.
Inside, another battle wages in the back corner. Fighting for territory and capture. I close up all possible entries for enemy entry. My bees now only have to guard one small hole. Hopefully they can handle it. I watch them carry out, wrestling, enemy bees.
When darkness falls and all the foreign troops have retreated back to their home hive, I'm at the war table strategizing how to keep my bees alive this winter without honey stores. It's one a.m.. After a few hours of internet research, I finally go to bed only to wake up with bees on my mind, battle weary after a restless night. But it won't take long for me to put on a sweat shirt, the purple rubber boots, to grab the flashlight and head down to the hive, because, after all, THIS IS WAR!
*There is no illusion here: from a bee's point of view I am the enemy. It is why I have my own suit of armor for battle.
The war began when I opened the hive and found wax moth larvae. Immediate action to destroy the enemy. AaAAck. This takes diligence. Daily visits to the hive to squish and squash. Hours taking apart the hive and cleaning all the nooks and crannies.
I reduce the hive to just enough comb so the bees have less territory to defend from the moths. With less comb, the bees spread themselves across the walls and floor and are busily, meticulously cleaning up. The wax moth no longer stands a chance against this little army/air force. The empty combs are wrapped and put in the freezer where they are safe from enemy invasion.
The next day I'm ready to do battle again. Open the hive and the ants have invaded. I refill the moats underneath the four legs and go on an ant squezing frenzy. A closer look behind the follower board and I find three moths! I squish one, and a second one, but it is only injured. As if we are working together, a bee swoops down on the moth and attacks it.* The third moth gets away.
During this thorough inspection I realize there isn't any honey. Not a stitch that I can see. At one time, combs were heavy with honey. I'm perplexed--where did it go? A little more research. My hive has been robbed! I watch a few videos of hive robbing both inside and outside, then head out to the hive to observe if we are being robbed.
Unbelievable! There is a battle going on at the front of the hive. An invader bee makes a kamikaze dive, a guardian bee crashes into her. A group of bees humming just above the entry sound like a group of Hell's Angels revving their Harleys. This is Mad Max down under. Hovering, waiting to attack. I hurry to reduce the size of the opening. I fortify the slight cracks at the sides of the hive. Make sure there aren't any gaps in the top bars.
Inside, another battle wages in the back corner. Fighting for territory and capture. I close up all possible entries for enemy entry. My bees now only have to guard one small hole. Hopefully they can handle it. I watch them carry out, wrestling, enemy bees.
When darkness falls and all the foreign troops have retreated back to their home hive, I'm at the war table strategizing how to keep my bees alive this winter without honey stores. It's one a.m.. After a few hours of internet research, I finally go to bed only to wake up with bees on my mind, battle weary after a restless night. But it won't take long for me to put on a sweat shirt, the purple rubber boots, to grab the flashlight and head down to the hive, because, after all, THIS IS WAR!
*There is no illusion here: from a bee's point of view I am the enemy. It is why I have my own suit of armor for battle.