Royal Wedding: Ranch Edition

We’re told as many as 3 billion people watched the royal wedding last Friday. 

Meanwhile, at the ranch, thousands of bees (and two humans) were in attendance at the coronation of a new queen on Sunday. Actually two queens—another swarm was reported a day before at our neighbor’s up the hill. It’s that season.  

Image courtesy of "designsbysherry"

On Friday it was extremely windy all day long. Then Saturday the wind dropped and it turned warm. 

On a walk we noticed the leaves are already dry and crackling underfoot, which they hadn’t been before the wind. With wind comes change. 

Andrew heard the enormous buzzing sound when he walked out the front door in the early afternoon.  It is a sound like no other—a steady, insistent hum. It's alarming, but I've been told bees are usually not aggressive while swarming. 

Last season our beekeeper, Jeff, placed two hives in a new spot on the hill outside our kitchen window, and it looked like the swarm came from one of them. The outside of both hives were coated with a layer of bees. 

A huge number of bees were circling in a cloud above the hives, and forming a clump high up in an oak. It looked like there might have been a second swarm happening lower down in the same tree, but we couldn’t see any more clumps.   

In bee swarms, the new queen is usually the one that stays behind in the hive, while the old queen leaves with about half of the hive's worker bees to find a new location to build a hive. 

It is great news that they made it through the winter, and are strong enough to grow out of their hive.  They disappeared an hour or so later. 

For some reason this did not make the headlines like the "other" royal wedding, but it was an important event in the natural world nonetheless. 

Swarm Day

Jeff, our beekeeper, brought up a new hive a couple months ago from Carmel Valley. They were packed into this bird house, and he said they would probably swarm soon to a new home, either to one of our empty hive boxes nearby, or elsewhere. 

They were a gentle bunch, so he opened the hive door without a full suit on.

April 7 was an especially warm day, and we walked down to the bee grounds with some friends after work. The hives were very active, and an enormous cloud of bees was flying around above our heads. They were forming a cluster around a limb in the oak above the hives. 

When we called Jeff to let him know, he said he'd heard of two other swarms that day. 

A few hours later they had left and were nowhere to be found. A couple of days later Andrew was working outside, and saw the swarm cloud fly over and disappear up the hill. 

Hopefully they found a new home near the Reserve to help pollinate the burned area. They have certainly helped here, as evidenced by the blossoms in this heritage apple tree just uphill from the hives. In past years the fruit trees have not produced many blossoms, so this is a vast improvement.

Pogonip Bees

A beekeeper named Jeff had started working with our late beekeeper Charles, before he died, and has expressed willingness to help us keep caring for our hives. We weren't feeling quite ready to take over the job ourselves completely (we still have a lot to learn), so we are relieved and grateful he has arrived on the scene. Plus, he's a really nice guy.

He brought up some new hives they had collected from inside the walls of the Pogonip clubhouse. He needed to move them far enough away that they wouldn't go back, so he brought them here.

A different kind of box is used for transporting the bees. When they first arrive they settle in for awhile in the transport box, getting used to their new surroundings. Once they're acclimated, they'll be moved into a regular hive box. That will be interesting.

He set the boxes up a little distance off the ground to keep them away from skunks. It seems skunks have a sweet tooth. A skunk could still reach the opening if it got up on its hind legs, but there is a secret that is mostly only known to beekeepers and skunks (and now you). A skunk won't stand up on its hind legs to reach the hive. If he did, the bees could fly out and sting him on his tender underbelly. He does not want that to happen. Keep the hives high enough up off the ground that a skunk has to stand up to reach them, and your bees should be safe from a stinky imposter.

We could hear loud humming coming from inside the box. There is some risk at this point that the bees could be angry when the boxes are opened, and fly out in attack mode. We all covered up with beekeeping hats (Jeff in full suit).


Gently he cut away the duct tape that was keeping them from escaping the box.


When the boxes were cracked open, the bees burbled out and flew around us. A few head-butted Jeff. Bumping their heads into you is a sign that they're not entirely happy. They're wondering what the heck you're doing to them, but they're not quite mad enough to commit suicide by stinging you.


It turned out okay and they were peaceful.

The Joy of Beekeeping

was certainly captured with this picture.

Capturing the Swarm

Charles, the beekeeper, and his companion Maria, came over to collect the swarm.

We had no idea what to expect, or if there was any sort of plan in place. Charles is a man of few words while he's working, and the last thing you want to do is pester him with questions. I try and stay quiet and out of the way, not an easy task when holding a straining Mooka on her leash, and taking pictures. Do you ever feel like a dumb American in your own country? Maria offered to hold Mooka, otherwise I would have completely missed all the pictures. I might have to rethink that next time.

Charles has an injured hip, so Popsey's assistance was needed more than usual. He ended up closely handling the hives for the first time.

They set up a ladder under the swarm.


Popsey positioned an empty hive box on top of the ladder, inches below the clump.


Charles said, “Step away now,” and promptly began tapping (hard tapping) the branch right above the swarm with his crutch. Bunches of bees fell and landed in the box.



The bees turned nasty (can't blame them), and went on the offense. The next few minutes were not pretty, and although I do have some pictures taken before I realized what was happening, they are not being posted out of respect for the attackees. This picture sums up my reaction.


I escaped unscathed, Popsey got away with only one sting, but Charles endured quite a few. He said it's good for him, and handled it calmly. We took a break and plucked out stingers.

A smoker and protective hats were dug out of the van, they covered up, and got back to work. Charles went over to what was left of the clump in the tree and gave it a few more whacks. Sorry...no more close-ups.


They set up a second ladder, and put a lid on the box. Charles climbed up and blew smoke inside the hive.


Then Popsey had to do one last thing...pick up the box of bees, and carry it to the van.




Charles took the bees to a new location. If he left them here, they would be more likely to leave the box and fly back into a tree or structure. Still, we were a little sad to see them go.

Not long after this was posted it became apparent that it was not a just a hip problem that was affecting Charles. He fell extremely ill and passed away about a month later. This may have been the last swarm he handled. We are honored to have had him here. This post is dedicated to him.

Bee Swarm

Around midday on Thursday a giant swarm of bees formed a buzzing cloud between the hives and our house.

They settled in a tree near the driveway, and spent the next two days in a calm, football-sized clump hanging on a branch.

For your listening pleasure

Our beekeeper, Charlie Nothing, just returned from a successful European tour. In case you missed my previous post about him, in addition to beekeeping, he is a writer and musician who invented an instrument called the dingulator, made out of old cars. Until recently we hadn’t heard any dingulation firsthand, but I’m now pleased to introduce you to one of his songs. (Once you hit “continue” and the album starts playing, hit the “skip” button until you get to the Charlie Nothing song—or listen to the whole album if you want).

You might want to listen when minors, co-workers, or easily-offended religious people are not present—there is some rather strong language. This is an anthology of protest songs, and he describes his song as a “protest of protest songs."

The lyrics have the power to work themselves into your everyday language. For example, we’ve found the line “Poop on your politics” eminently useful and flexible by replacing the last word or two to fit the situation at hand.

In other bee news, he has been adding more hives to our collection. The day he moved the most recent batch of hives was really hot, so after they arrived the bees came out to cool off on their front porch, kindly posing in a heart shape (they must have seen my camera):