Last year we had three
winters for the price of one in northern England. After cold weather in January and through
into the middle of February we thought we were out of the woods with very fine
weather in the second half of the month.
One of my hives did as well (the strongest one) and started brood rearing
with wild abandon. Then in the last week
of February we were visited by a wet cold blast (dubbed by the media as The Beast from the East) which saw unusually low temperatures, high winds and
snow. Again this was followed by a very
fine period and it was felt spring had sprung for a second time, before another
arctic blast at the end of March with more snow and low temperatures, although
this only lasted a few days this time.
 |
| -9C (16F) |
These false starts
really hammered one of my hives. The
previous year they’d been the busiest, well behaved colony and I was looking
forward to getting into them. On first inspection
it was obvious something wasn’t right.
They’d survived, but it had been a difficult winter for them. The bottom board was full of dead bees and
larvae. I think that they’d been caught
out during ‘The Beast’ believing spring was here only to be knocked back and
not being able to keep on top of housekeeping.
The later arctic blast would normally have been a walk in the park, but
because of their poor state it added further to their woes. First inspection in April and I had a hive
full of dead bees – what were alive covered a couple of frames. They didn’t really recover until the end of
the season when I could re-queen them, so although it was one of the best
summers (weather-wise) in a long time, Hive 1 were playing catch-up throughout.
I’m writing this in mid-January and we’re still waiting for winter here. Daffodils are starting to break cover and my Rhododendrons are starting to show signs of buds - and the bees are flying (see the video). It would be foolish to think it won’t come, but sometimes we just don’t get those cold/wet/windy winters we're supposed to. It's rare, but it does happen. This year I can't remember two mornings in a row when temperatures were below freezing - 0C (32F). The effect that would have on my bees would be potentially catastrophic - they'll use up all their stores before nature kicks in to provide and I could start losing hives. Or, like last year, the bees start to think spring is on its way and start brood rearing, only for an arctic blast to come long late doors and kick them in the butt.
As an experiment, I’ve decided to feed Hive 1 with Candipolline Gold – a mixture of candy and pollen. At the beginning of March they’ll be brood rearing in any case, but this should see them able to get through any late blasts, or keep them topped up with food if they’re low due to mild weather. Hive 2 is now my strongest colony, so I’ll see what effect no Candipolline has on them. They’ve proved far hardier a colony, but at the expense of being quite bad tempered at times, but prolific honey producers. So we’ll see. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Harry isn’t bothered by
arctic blasts. It snows, then he plays
in it for a couple of hours, and then that’s enough for him until next year. Just as all beekeeping is local, I think the
same can be said for autism to a lesser degree.
Harry likes being indoors where it’s warm – but I know plenty of kids
with autism who will happily spend the day outside in the cold.
This time I’m struggling
to see what beekeeping can teach me about autism. Harry’s not a twin (as much as I’d like him
to have a sibling) so I can’t experiment with different levels of nourishment –
but then I wouldn’t anyway – he’s my son and this isn’t some terrible eugenics
research from the 1940s. I guess it
shows that I’m open to trying new things and seeing how they go and taking the occasional
risk. Harry’s always at the front of my
priorities and the number one thing that I care about in the world, but it’s a
good idea to shake it up a little bit every now and then and throw the occasional
dice. I just need to find his
Candipolline.
No comments:
Post a Comment