Archie, Darling. A Queer Romance

Archie, Darling. Part 16

14

12/11/22

It's been two weeks since I've checked on my bees. I have had to resist the urge every day, I just want to know if they're doing ok. Every time you open a hive, it sets them back a little bit in their honey production and winter preparations. It disturbs their process and is generally a bad idea. That's why I am careful to never open them too often. It's also why I take copious notes about the state of each hive after I check them. That way, I don't have to reinspect if I forget how many frames of honey, pollen, or brood they have. As I walk the twenty metres in to the bush, I watch the entrance of the other hives, I won't open them today but I can gauge their health by watching them. Little Green is at the back of the pack, her entrance hidden from view until I am near the first of the hives. I feel the weight of anxiety hanging from my chest as I reach the first one. I take a breath before I look up at Little Green, unsure if I want to see. To my delight, the entrance is bursting with life; foraging bees are speeding in and out, catapulting themselves into the fields adjacent. I sit for a moment and watch, it's not a foolproof sign that everything is ok, but I still want to see what's happening. Almost every bee that returns, has pollen covering their back legs. My heart jumps, bees bring back more pollen when they have babies to feed. It's a good sign that things are going well for them.

"Hello Darlings" I say affectionately as I knock on the roof. "Just going to be a bit of noise" The strap clunks as I release it and the hum which emanates from the hive is strong. Fantastic. I turn to my smoker and light it, puffing a few clouds into the entrance, and the vents in the roof. After a moment, I wedge my hive tool under the roof and pry it open. I put my smoker down and grasp the roof in my hands, this is the moment of truth. God, I hope it worked. I slowly tilt the roof back and the familiar gust of warm honey graces me, on the tops of the frames are a wealth of worker bees, excitedly hurrying about. From the top, I can't see any silk or wax moth cocoons, they have cleared and cleaned their home beautifully. I puff a few clouds between the frames as I talk to them.

"Oh, my loves, look at you. You've done so well, how are you feeling?" I ask them. "I'm going to have to check you all today, I hope that's ok" I say, wedging my tool under the first outer frame. I gently remove it, making sure to give the queen plenty of time to run away from the light in case she is on this one. It's full of pollen, absolutely full! There are no signs of wax moths at all, the damaged comb has been repaired and the bees have packed it full of pollen for their babies. I slowly work my way toward the centre of the hive box, inspecting each frame as I go. All of them have been cleaned and reworked. As I get closer to the centre, the frames begin to transition into brood frames; the queen prefers to lay her eggs in the centre of the box, so they remain warm. She has been busy too; the centre four frames are full of brood in varying stages of growth. Fat, healthy bee larvae lay in the cells, gorging themselves on the honey and bee bread the nurses feed them. As I work toward the other side of the box, the frames transition through honey stores back into pollen again. "Well, this is a relief" I say, allowing a bee to crawl onto my gloved hand. "Darling, you are amazing" I say to her. She lifts her butt in the air and wiggles it, before taking flight.

"Ok, updates" I begin, feeling infinitely more relaxed, "I went to a doctor the other day to ask about hormones" I tell one frame of worker bees tending to uncapped nectar. "I still haven't spoken to Ollie since I came out...That's really all the news I have for now to be honest" I say.

On my journey through the hive, I don't spot the queen, but I know she's around. The bees scurry across the frames, excitedly completing their jobs, they don't seem bothered by my presence. Once I am convinced they are ok, I replace the lid and tighten the strap. I sit back in front of the hive and remove my veil, they're very calm today so I'm not concerned about them stinging me. Bee hives have moods. I know that sounds bizarre but they absolutely do, and they change day to day. Some days, I can handle my hives without a bee suit or gloves, and other times I absolutely need the full kit. It's not always clear why they are in a particular mood but I try to respect whatever they are feeling, I don't need to know why they are grumpy, to know they are grumpy. A gentle breeze carries the smell of honey and pollen to me again, I lay down in the dry leaf litter and watch as my bees zigzag overhead. My heart is full, I almost tear up as I watch them. I helped them get their strength back, I kept my promise. A wayward bee flies lower toward me and I stay dead still, I still get a little adrenaline rush when a bee lands on me, even though I know she won't sting me there is still some part of my brain which gets nervous. She lands on my chest, and turns to look at me. She looks pretty young; she still has some of her white fluffy hairs. Bees graduate to different jobs throughout their life, they first commit to jobs inside the hive, as cleaners and nurses, and then as they age, they become foragers, harvesting nectar. She must have only recently left the hive for the first time. "Good luck out there darling" I say, she turns to see where the vibrations of my voice are coming from, waves her wings and takes flight.