OH Honey Apiary: We Make Mistakes So You Don’t Have To!

If you recall, we spent much of the end of August and start of September treating our hives with Formic Pro. Sadly, halfway through this treatment, we were dismayed to learn from a company rep who spoke at the End of Summer Classic that doing the one-strip treatment doesn’t affect the mites in the capped brood.

Since killing the mites under the the caps is one of the reasons we use Formic Pro, this was quite a letdown, and we’ll be re-thinking our treatment in the future — possibly trying the two-strip method again. (We switched to one strip after having lost multiple queens when we did the two-strip in the past. Apparently, it’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t scenario.)

But this week, we were finally able to have a look inside our hives.

It was a coolish morning, so we waited until early evening (the warmest part of that day) and started with the original OH, Honey hive. This is the colony that made it through last winter, the one from which the other two hives were split, and the only one we got honey off this year.

Because fall is setting in, we are trying to take all the hives down to fewer boxes and decided to begin by removing the second honey super.

We took it off, brushing the few bees that were on the frames back into the hive and set the box on the deck, planning to go back to it later. For some reason, neither of us completely thought through the consequences of this action, but if you’re a beekeeper, you’re probably cringing because you can predict what happened.

Everyone else will have to read the rest of the post to find out.

We finished reviewing all the frames of that hive, cleaned out all four of the beetle traps, and sprinkled DFM on the top of the frames.

It’s a strong hive with plenty of bees, and if it doesn’t have as much honey as we’d like to see … well, there’s time yet before it gets really cold. In addition, it still has a lot of brood. At this time of year, that causes the niggling concern of it possibly also having a large Varroa load, as well as the worry of going into the winter with more bees than the hive has food for.

Still, we plan to start feeding this weekend and treat one more time with Oxalic Acid in October or November (when the queen has stopped or greatly reduced her laying). Fingers crossed these actions will address those issues.

On to Split #1. This is also a strong hive, as you can see from the pictures below.

Here’s a view from the side.

There are actually clumps of bees, where they are buzzing around on top of one another.

We spotted our beautiful golden girl (the queen).

I’m not going to point her out. By now, you should be able to recognize her. 🙂

This hive was in a similar state — lots of bees, brood, and not as much honey as we’d like to see.

But they’re still bringing in nectar and a surprising amount of pollen, and as mentioned before, we’re going to start feeding them.

We were finishing up with the beetle traps and DFM when we began to realize there were a lot(!) of bees in the air around the hives, and they were starting to ping our veils.

There was also a some air combat between bees and other bees, and bees and Yellow Jackets.

Realizing what was happening, we immediately closed up the hive, and started to put away the gear.

It was then we noticed the box we’d put on the deck.

It seems the bees had noticed it too because it was surrounded by a cloud of buzzing insects.

We had broken a cardinal rule in beekeeping: Don’t leave honey or nectar sitting around because it will result in a robbing situation!

I didn’t take pictures because, well, even if you’re a beekeeper, tens of thousands of bees flying all around you can be a little distracting.

How could we have been so stupid?

And not only had we left the box out, there was also a bag of dirty, dark, old comb sitting in our deck box. With the deck box lid open.

We’d cleaned some frames the day before, and The Engineer was going to burn the mess that came off them after we finished our hive check. He’d put the bag in the box to protect it from the bees, but forgot to close the box.

Did I mention the foundation we’d cleaned and pressure-washed was draining on a bench on the front porch?

Well, yes, dear readers, it was. There were interested bees around it too.

Not only had we put out a super full of nectar to tempt neighborhood bees (including our own), we’d also offered several side dishes.

It was, as we say in the aviation world, a Charlie Foxtrot.

There were bees everywhere, fighting each other to take that delicious nectar back to their hives.

What did we do? What could we do, but start brushing the bees off the main attraction, and tucking those frames one by one in a closed box. Of course, a few bees ended up in the box, but we dealt with that later.

Then, we moved the bag of old comb to the front of the house and covered it with a bucket, covered the clean(ish) frames with a towel, put away all our tools, went inside, and let the crowds disperse.

Clearly, our plans for grilling out were off the table. Dining out was now on the agenda because, frankly, the idea of trying to cook was not enticing after such a tense experience.

Amazingly, neither of us got stung, and the three bees that followed us into the house were caught and released to go home.

Within an hour, life was pretty much back to normal … except all through the next day, foragers were checking out our deck, hoping for another smorgasbord.

It was our own fault. Bees are preparing for winter now, and although they are still out foraging, the pickings are much slimmer than earlier in the year. Beekeepers have to be extra careful not to offer any enticements to would-be robbers.

We are normally very careful about this — covering the comb and propolis we remove from the frames, placing it in a container and not just dumping it on the ground, cleaning up any honey, sugar water, or nectar spills.

But this time, we messed up.

Unsurprisingly, it was with some trepidation that we approached our third hive when we checked it today.

We went through the super, brushing the bees off each frame, and tucking those frames into a closed box.

Then, we removed the top box, covered it with a towel, and began to look at each frame of the bottom box. We were glad to see they’d begun to cap some honey — more than either of the other hives — and there was less capped brood. This probably indicates the queen’s laying is slowing, and the bees are turning their attention toward winter provisions.

By the time we got to the top box, our girls were beginning to dive bomb our veils. They were obviously done with our ministrations.

We took a quick peek at a single frame upstairs, cleaned the beetle traps, sprinkled the DFM and got the heck out.

You see, we learn from our mistakes. If you’re a beekeeper, hopefully you can too, instead of having to make them yourself.

They’re still bringing in pollen!

Guess which hive we inspected today! (That’s The Engineer beside it, swatting Yellow Jackets).

Road Trip(s)!

Well! We have been busy! After camping with Darling Daughter and partner, we were home for a week or so, and then back on the road again for Labor Day weekend (the first weekend in September).

I worked Friday, but we’d been warned we had to make it to Illinois to help a friend of ours celebrate his retirement from United Airlines. He’s been a captain flying mostly overseas for many years, but hitting 65 meant leaving that job behind.

He and his wife chose to celebrate with a fly-in pig roast at their grass strip — the same place our group congregates before heading to Oshkosh each year.

Unfortunately, it became clear on Friday morning that the weather in Illinois was not going to be conducive to visual flight rules flying on Saturday. And since The Engineer is not instrument flight rules current, this meant a road trip.

We left bright and early Saturday morning after throwing our camping gear in the van on Friday night. I’m embarassed to admit that since we knew this trip was coming, we’ve left it in our foyer since the last camp trip (with Darling Daughter and Partner).

It was a long drive (about seven or so hours), but we had all day and made stops as needed for meals and to stretch our legs, arriving in plenty of time for the evening’s festivities.

And although I loved seeing many of our friends from around the country at the party, I have to admit I enjoyed the day after more. It seems the older I get, the less I enjoy being part of a crowd for more than an hour or two.

So a Sunday hanging around the hangar chatting to whoever was around was just fine with me.

It really was wonderful to be able to visit with friends we only see once in a while.

I also enjoyed being able to sleep in before going for a late breakfast on Monday, and then packing up for our trip home.

We took the backroads instead of the freeway, stopping to spend a night in Marion, Indiana where we used up some of The Enginner’s many Holiday Inn points for a room, and went out for a Mexican meal.

Illinois and Indiana is farm country — mostly corn and beans — and the country roads are mostly narrow and straight.

The roads are so straight, in fact, I felt compelled to take a picture when we made a turn!

After arriving home Tuesday evening, we got up to a day of preparing for our camping trip on Thursday.

First, I visited my mom, who is once again in lockdown at her nursing home. They have had four staff cases of COVID (most, if not all, of unvaccinated people) and one resident who tested positive after she exhibited symptoms.

Fortunately, none of the other residents have tested positive (so far), but this means Mom is spending most of her time in her room again, with no group activities.

How long will this go on, and why has protecting ourselves and others from illness become a political football?

And that’s all I’m saying on that subject.

In addition to seeing Mom, it was time to put in our second strip of Formic Pro in our three hives, so we did that too.

Also, we had to go flying.

I know …. such a shame, but someone has to do it.:-)

We decided to fly for dinner to a rural strip with a restaurant. We often visit there for breakfast, and their evening meals proved to be as filling (and cheap) as their breakfasts.

Plus, it was so nice to see trees again after all the corn and bean fields!

The sunset was magnificent!

Thursday, it was off to the campground, which proved to be a welcome haven from our busy month.

We set up our big tent in a beautiful spot in the shade of several large pines at the end of one of the roads. I say “big tent” to differentiate it from the smaller one we take to Oshkosh. They are identical except for size, with the little one being a four-person, much more suitable for loading in the plane, when weight is a concern.

The “big tent” is an eight-person, and it’s huge! The Engineer can stand in it, and he’s 6’3″. I got it for a ridiculously low price on Craig’s List, and we’ve been referring to it as the “Taj Mahal.” But in Illinois, a friend of ours called it the “Garage Mahal,” a name I think will stick.

Here it is in all its glory.

I also recently invested in a double pie-maker. We had a small single one, but I came across a book with all sorts of delicious sounding recipes to make in a pie maker, so I decided to splash out on a bigger one too.

Here are the samosas we made on Thursday night in our new cookware. I’m very proud I managed to not burn them.

We used one of those cans of croissant dough for the first ones (and then I made a chocolate croissant with the small bit of leftover dough). The Engineer also used the little round pie iron to make another samosa using the filling in plain, old white bread. (Well, it wasn’t actually plain, old white bread. It was the rather expensive white bread I buy because it actually has flavor, nutrition, and texture, but that’s sort of beside the point.)

Anyway, The Engineer said the second samosa was as good, possibly better, than the first.

The next morning, I once again used our Kelly Kettle to make tea. I know, I know — I go on about this piece of equipment, but it’s so fast compared to making tea on our old camp stove.

So I’ve dressed up the picture with a shot of the pine cones we used for kindling, honey from our bees, the tea pot and cosy I pack with our gear, and the freebie fan I got from Seltzerland and used to create a draft for the little fire.

Friday, we rented a canoe, and discovered Grumman — the maker of F-4 Wildcats and F-6 Hellcats (World War II combat planes) also made canoes.

Of course it was The Engineer who made the connection between the name on the boat and the aircraft-style rivets.

View of Findley Lake from a Grumman canoe

When we stopped for lunch, The Engineer discovered this.

He’s very observant, that boy.

I, on the other hand, am in charge of research, and all I could find (with a very quick search online) was that the Ohio Department of Natural Resources Division of Water does some kind of sediment survey using these markers.

Enlightening, that bit of information is, isn’t it?

The canoeing made us thirsty, and we retired to a local(ish) brewery. The place seems to be in the middle of nowhere, or at least a lot of farmland, but it was filling up when we left, so people seem to be finding it.

I found Muffleheads Brewery online (how else?), and we both found it delightful.

Here’s a view from the patio (before the groups of people began to show up). The owners have clearly spent a lot of money to make their brewery dream come true because the place was full of comfy seats and fire pits by which to enjoy your beverage.

The beer was good too.

If you’ve never heard the term “mufflehead,” it refers to an mosquito-like insect that invades western Ohio in early summer. They don’t bite, but appear in such great numbers as to be more than a little annoying.

Now they have a brewery named after them. Go figure.

Dinner that evening was our household specialty, which consists of chopping up some kind of sausage and throwing it in a pan or wrapping it in foil with potatoes, carrots, onions, and any other vegetables we happen to have on hand, along with a few dabs of butter. We put it in the fire and let it cook until done.

This time, the potatoes came out a little charred, but thankfully, my husband claims to prefer them that way.

On Saturday, we met our friend MJ at the local fairgrounds for the LCBA End of Summer Classic. Along with the educational sessions on bees, this beekeeper group had organized a Corvette Cruise-In, a Classic Car and Bike Cruise-In, Amish buggy rides, fair food booths, door prizes, vendors, and a variety of other activities.

We concentrated mostly on the bee presentations, though I did manage to find time to spend probably more than I should have on raffle tickets. I can’t feel too guilty though; the money goes to the organization, and they present several of these events a year.

Also, I won a basket, though I’ve not yet had time to see exactly what’s in it.

After the Summer Classic, we all drove back to the park for the “Friends of Findley State Park Tasting in the Woods,” which I’d seen on the park website a few days before.

I’ll admit Ohio hasn’t had a history of producing great wines, but when an opportunity arises to drink wine and eat pizza in a beautiful setting while supporting a worthy endeavor, you take it. Travel magic, right?

The people were friendly, and the three of us (The Engineer, MJ, and I) each found several wines we liked.

Plus, pizza.

I should have taken a picture of the two delicious pies we consumed, but we scarfed them down so fast there wasn’t time.

Eventually MJ had to make her way home, and The Engineer and I meandered our way back to the campsite for one last campfire.

Since it was probably our last camping trip of the season, and thus, our last camping trip fire, I made a cherry pie to celebrate.

The next morning, after one last Kelly Kettle cuppa, we went for a short dam hike. (Sorry. I couldn’t stop myself from phrasing it that way.)

A few photos of wildflowers because they looked pretty, and soon after that, we were packed up and on our way home.

Forty Years

Yesterday, The Engineer commemorated his fortieth anniversary as an employee of the company where he’s worked since he was sixteen.

In that time, the company has been bought and sold — taken over and renamed — five times. It has been downsized, and many have lost their jobs, but The Engineer remained.

In some ways, he was lucky. Finding a career that suits your abilities at such a young age is unusual, quite unlike my own meandering path to my eventual avocation.

Also, engineering pays reasonably well, always a nice perk.

But having been next to him for thirty-three of those forty years, I know for every penny he’s been paid, his employer has reaped far more as a result of my husband’s labor, knowledge, and work ethic.

Granted, they have earned some of that money, having provided him with training and the structure within which he works. I hope you believe me when I say he has repaid all of their investments a multitude of times and continues to do so every working day (and night).

My husband is smart, pragmatic, and logical. He rarely takes things personally, and I’ve never seen him panic, even in situations where panic would seem a normal reaction.

He approaches problems from the bottom up, looking for the simplest explanation first. This has proved an extremely effective way of troubleshooting.

The Engineer can fix almost anything. In fact, I often tell the story of when Darling Daughter, aged six or seven, took a squirt gun to our television.

This was out of character for her because she wasn’t a bratty kid. (I know I’m her mom, but truly, she wasn’t.) Surprised at her actions, I asked her to explain herself, after first doing some explaining of my own.

“You’ve broken the television,” I said. “Why did you do that?”

Completely unfazed, Darling Daughter replied, “Daddy can fix it.”

Her faith in her father’s abilities was absolute.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

But he did.

On the other hand, my husband has no qualms admitting when he’s out of his depth. Many times I’ve heard him remark on a situation at work that it’s time to get the designers or the masterminds in.

And there are a few (just a few) home repair tasks he won’t tackle because he knows they are beyond his ken.

The Engineer is creative, able to look at an item and see alternative uses for it. This year, he repurposed some pieces of hive frames as handles for my thirty-five-plus-year-old Weber grill. And in our hangar, we still have picnic table benches he made from our old wood waterbed frame.

Also, he has a sense of humor, not raucous, but playful and clever. I’m sure most readers will agree about that attribute is invaluable in a workplace.

Engineering suits my husband, but with his native intelligence, character, and integrity, I know he could have been a success in a variety of careers.

As I said earlier, his company is lucky to have him.

Unfortunately, that company is part of a huge, global corporation, so no one at the top even knows his name.

For forty years, he’s earned them a lot of money, and I doubt he’s even seen as a cog in a wheel because the leaders seem to view everyone as replaceable.

True, some of the managers he reports to (and there are many — more managers than engineers, in fact) understand and appreciate his capablities, but even they are small fish in an ocean of international trade.

Forty years he’s spent doing his job in a time when many people complain about how no one has a work ethic anymore, and workers flit from job to job with no loyalty to their employers.

Well, I was a child of the seventies, and I remember the days when a “good job” was one where working for a company for your whole life meant you could look forward to a pension when you retired. It was like an unwritten contract between an employer and their employees.

Do a search on “raiding pension funds” to see how that worked out for employees. (I’ll save you the trouble, click here, here, here, or here.)

On the other hand, the CEOs did just fine, even if they’ve run those endeavors to the ground. Those high flyers — including the ones where The Engineer works — come and go, often leaving with a gold, no, make that platinum, handshake for their efforts.

In fact, the most recent figures put the average CEO salary at 299 times the average worker’s.

Meanwhile, The Engineer’s employer has gone from being considered a solid investment and blue-chip stock to quite the opposite.

Thus, it’s a little galling that their HR department regularly send emails offering financial tips. And the 401K fund options they offer are extremely limited, with most of the funds being run by his employer.

It’s a bit like the old “company stores” that once proliferated in factory and coal towns. You can spend or invest your money anywhere you want … as long as your employer make a profit on it.

So, if those employers complain about the dearth of good applicants for jobs, all I can say is they are reaping what they’ve sown.

Hey, I know we’re lucky to have had retirement plans and the money to invest in them. Many don’t have that option. We’re fortunate to have had careers that meshed with our interests and skills. Countless others slave at positions that offer little hope for advancement or financial stability. And how many people work multiple jobs just to make ends meet?

I know I did for many years.

Still, forty years is just over 70% of The Engineer’s life so far, and I can’t help feeling that much dedicated work should be recognized by a bit more than a form email from the current CEO and the option to order some useless item from an online catalog.

We chose to commemorate his efforts our own way, by going out for a nice Indian meal. And you know what? It was lovely.

Also, when The Engineer retires (and when I eventually follow him and retire from my little “retirement job”), we hope (plan, pray) to able to reap the benefits of both our efforts and savings.

End of rant.

To end on a more positive note, here’s a picture of the honey we extracted yesterday. My best estimate is we got about twenty-seven pounds.