Sunday, October 31, 2004
Transporting bees turned out to be quite straightforward. All the hive parts fitted snugly into the boot, and the clingfilm partition kept out the odd stray bee. I drove rather gingerly down the M4, and arriving in Berkshire, placed the hive in its new location. Removing the foam in the entrance was spectacular; thousands of bees poured out in the first minutes to survey the new surroundings. I retired to a safe distance for a delicious lunch. Unfortunately that's when disaster struck.
I had been warned that the bees would be especially irate on moving day, but after a boozy lunch I was flushed with Dutch courage. I planned to remove the roof, and stack on layers of stored honey, and a sugar solution feeder. Unfortunately things went seriously astray. I somehow forgot not to wear black, which is the most provocative colour to bees. Added to this in the cold weather the smoke was utterly ineffective in subduing the bees.
As the roof came off, at least 1000 bees descended on me, and began trying to sting me through the protective clothing. There were so many bees on my visor that I couldn't see. Within seconds I could hear buzzing within the veil, and shortly afterwards the insistent vibration of little buzzing wings up my trouser legs, and down my sweater. When I finally escaped and brushed off the adherent bees, I could only find four stings, but as they were administered, it felt like a genuine Halloween nightmare.
The next time you casually pick up a £1.50 pot of honey from the supermarket, do think of the trials the unfortunate beekeeper has had in bringing the honey to you.
I had been warned that the bees would be especially irate on moving day, but after a boozy lunch I was flushed with Dutch courage. I planned to remove the roof, and stack on layers of stored honey, and a sugar solution feeder. Unfortunately things went seriously astray. I somehow forgot not to wear black, which is the most provocative colour to bees. Added to this in the cold weather the smoke was utterly ineffective in subduing the bees.
As the roof came off, at least 1000 bees descended on me, and began trying to sting me through the protective clothing. There were so many bees on my visor that I couldn't see. Within seconds I could hear buzzing within the veil, and shortly afterwards the insistent vibration of little buzzing wings up my trouser legs, and down my sweater. When I finally escaped and brushed off the adherent bees, I could only find four stings, but as they were administered, it felt like a genuine Halloween nightmare.
The next time you casually pick up a £1.50 pot of honey from the supermarket, do think of the trials the unfortunate beekeeper has had in bringing the honey to you.
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