Bracing for the Bees

An information pack has arrived from the bee-keeping course. It is a very informative read, even more so than the two bee-keeping books that already reside on my bookshelf. But perhaps that is because it has been put together by a couple who are experienced and enthusiatic bee-keepers and who are keen to teach others how to bee-keep. There is a sense of passion for the skill rather than 'we do this for the money.'

The course is one I found linked to the Omlet website. Omlet, who are the clever people who invented the Eglu, have now created a bee-hive called the Beehaus. I am very keen to have a Beehaus. I like saying the name out loud in a heavy, Teutonic accent, and I like that it is a clever word play on the design style of Bauhaus. (Even though I'm not keen on Bauhaus, I appreciate the value of the style).

The course people have a Beehaus. They also have a variety of other types of bee-hives. The course material advises exploring all varieties of bee-hive before making a decision about the one that is right for you and your circumstances.

So I've held off ordering a Beehaus for the moment. Even though I really want a Beehaus.

Before we knew of the existence of the Beehaus, Andy happened to say that, given the popularity of the Eglu, Omlet ought to design a bee-hive of similar ilk. And then he said perhaps that he ought to design one before they did. And he would call it an 'Oh, Bee-hive,' in the manner of Austin Powers.

But Omlet got there first.

Anyway, I'm on the chaise, nursing my illness and reading about bees. There is a buzzing in my ear, but that is an infection, not a bee. The more I read about bees, the more fascinating I find them. I'm beginning to feel a sense of duty towards them, a sense of responsibility for their guardianship. I feel that bees that are kept on a commercial basis are at growing risk from all sorts of problems. And more people should be encouraged to keep a hive or two of their own.

It's a bit like chickens, I suppose. Years and years ago, it was common for families to keep a few hens to supply their own family needs. But if you aren't careful, you add to your flock because you think 'I could make money out of the surplus eggs, or I could cram in a small flock for eating,' and your 3 or 4 hens become 20 or 30, and then husbandry becomes more complicated; things start getting out of hand, because you succumb to the hand of commercialism. And before you know it, you're cramming more livestock into your available land, because Government legislation says its perfectly okay and acceptable to keep 4 hens in space of a small box. And clearly it isn't, because things start to go wrong. AKA battery farming.

I've been reading about the commercial bee-keeping practices in America. I've seen a TV programme too. I watched in horror and disbelief as hundreds of hives were thrown, yes thrown, onto a lorry and driven from state to state, being off-loaded, left for the bees to pollinate whatever crop needed pollinating, before being thrown back onto the lorry and driven to their next destination.

And the owner of the hives was amazed that his 'business' was suffering with the mysterious colony collapse disorder. 'What was going wrong?' he wanted to know.

Well. I'm no scientist. And maybe I was being over-simplistic in my thinking, but to me, the reason why his hives were collapsing and his bees were dying in their hundreds of thousands was down to the unnatural practices he was putting them through and the money-grabbing commercial nature of his attitude.

Poor bees. Having their homes thrown onto a lorry, being bumped through a long journey, woken up in a new place, expected to go to work and return to their relocated hive, then being uprooted, driven to a new place, disorientated again and again. If I was a bee, I'd give up pretty soon, too.

A little is enough. We need no more than that.