Bees - it's swarm time, don't freak out!

I was over at my friend's farm the other day visiting my horse, Mac. As I strolled up to the barn, I heard this tremendous buzzing sound. I looked to my left and noticed this swarm of bees hanging off of the electrical box. It was a warm day and the hive, which is located in the wall of the barn, apparently got too crowded because half of the bees decided to take the queen and look for a new residence. When they cluster like this, they're resting while they decide on their new hive location. Encountering a bee swarm for the first time can be alarming. Bees tend to swarm near their old hives or honeycombs, so if a swarm is visible then a nest is nearby. Swarms are usually not aggressive unless provoked, so it is important to keep a good distance from the swarm.

The other interesting thing about swarms, is you can capture them and place them in a new hive. A few years back, my husband Paul, a hobbyist bee keeper, and I experienced our first swarm capture. We were fairly new to beekeeping at the time. Paul had 3 hives set up on one corner of our property. We were enjoying the novelty of learning about our new charges. We told ourselves, "It's kind of like having livestock, without all of the manure". Even our two boys (middle school age at the time) showed an interest in the bees, probably because it involved their father dressing up in a white space suit complete with helmet.

At the time, I was working at home and was alone when the swarm occurred as the boys were at school and Paul was at his office. I had gone outside to let our dogs have their afternoon constitutional, when I heard the buzzing, and I mean a lot of buzzing! I looked up and saw an enormous cloud of bees hovering over our garage. I stood there transfixed, before I had the presence of mind to run in and phone Paul. "I think the bees are swarming!", I told him. "Go back out and see where they fly to, I'm coming right home." he said. I ran back outside and listened because the bees were no longer flying overhead and I didn't see them right away. I followed the buzzing sound to the edge of our pasture and looked up. There I saw the amazing sight of my first swarm cluster. It was a basketball-size cluster of bees hanging about twelve feet up in one of our fir trees.

When Paul arrived home, he informed me, as we had an extra hive, that we were going to attempt to capture the swarm. Our plan was simple: cut the branch on which swarm was hanging and then "catch" the falling bee ball in an empty hive box, place the lid on top and there you have it, a captured swarm. Easy-peasy. The only snag was that the swarm ball was twelve feet off the ground. What we needed was some scaffolding so we could both be up higher in order to carry out the operation. In the absence of scaffolding, the family minivan made a nice substitute. As I moved the van into place, Paul donned his bee suit. I put on his extra bee hat and veil and we were ready for action. I didn't have a bee suit because Paul was the official beekeeper of the family and I was just his lovely assistant. Besides, swarming bees are relatively docile and I was wearing long sleeves and long pants.

We clambered up on top of the van, Paul with the empty hive and I with some long handled loppers. Paul positioned the empty hive box underneath the swarm and I raised the loppers overhead and grasped the branch lightly just above the swarm. Bees were flying gently around us. Paul gave me the signal and "clip," I cut the branch. To say it literally "rained bees" would be an understatement. The ball of bees dropped quickly, bouncing off of my bee hat like BBs. The majority of the bees landed straight in the box. Paul swiftly covered the box, capturing most of the bees, but a surprising amount evaded capture by ricocheting off the bottom of the box and shooting out as fast as they went in. Paul got back down off the van in workman like fashion and proceeded to carry the full hive to its new location. I, on the other hand, remained where I was, arms in the air, still holding onto the loppers. Paul eyed me. "What are you doing?" he said. "Well, I believe some of the bees have flown up my pant legs and down my sleeves, because I can feel them crawling on my arms and legs." I replied. He didn't have any other suggestions for me and I couldn't stand on top of the van all day, so I proceeded to climb down. It was then that the stinging and stripping occurred. I'm sure you can appreciate that I did not waste anytime getting out of my clothes, down to my underwear. Fortunately, no delivery people showed up at that moment, not that I would have cared.

In the end, I received about 4 stings. Not too bad considering the trauma we put those bees through. Would I do it again? You betcha, but the next time at the very least, I'd where rubber bands on my sleeves and pant legs to prevent the bees from finding shelter in my clothes. Oh who am I kidding, I'd insist on a full bee suit. Nowadays, Paul does very little beekeeping. He only has one hive at a local farmer's property. We are still bee fans, though, as everyone should be. Without them and all of the other pollinators, our world would be in sad shape. Thankfully, there is a simple step we can take to help them and a bee suit is not required. Plant flowers or a garden. Now that is easy-peasy.