Panic Me Not!

They've only been in residence for a day, and already the Malarkey Bees are causing me sleepless nights. Not, I hasten to say, because of anything they have done, because they spent yesterday doing what bees do best which is minding their own business and getting on with their work. Oh no, they have caused me angst because I thought, as a new bee-keeper, I should join a bee-keeping forum, which I did, and then I proceeded to read many threads about all the scary things that can happen with bees.

Especially alarming were the posts which mentioned things like ' deadly killing machines', 'anaphylaxis', 'feral swarms' and 'stupid-people-who-tried-to-keep-bees-without-going-on-a-course-first.'

'But we have been on a course,' said Andy, who has also joined the forum, but only to dig out the dirt about Mr Bee Man who supplied our nuc, and who has been banned from most bee forums for spamming and being obnoxious.
'I know,' I said. 'But did you read about the woman who left her hive uninspected for nine months, and then when another keeper went in to sort out the mess, he found between 30 and 40 queen cells and nearly got stung to death?'
'We are not going to leave our hive uninspected for nine months,' said Andy. 'Good grief, we're having enough trouble keeping away from it for one week.'
'But what if we miss a queen cell?' I wail.
'Well, we might, but we'll try not to because we know what we are looking for, and if we do, then we know how to perform an artificial swarm,' said Andy. 'Don't worry. We are not going to be in the position where we end up with a feral colony with over thirty unspotted queen cells.'

Of course, I was being irrational. We have done a proper one-to-one course. We've had proper theory sessions and proper practical sessions. Our mentors are happy for us to be in charge of bees. But, like any new experience, one can't help but worry about the tiny details, until one has gained experience and ergo confidence. I suppose it was like looking after chickens for the first time. But, over two years down the line I can handle a chicken, medicate a chicken, nurse a chicken back to health, and replace a chicken prolapse.

('Do we have to mention my prolapse?' says Miggins. 'It was over a year ago now, and I'm still alive and laying.'
'Yes, you are,' I say, proudly. For not many chickens survive a prolapse. Was it my nursing skills, I wonder, or Mrs Miggins' resilience?
'I think we both know the answer to that one,' says Mrs M, my best, beloved and tough old bird.)

So we shall approach our journey with the bees one step at a time, dealing with things as they happen, calling for assistance from our mentors if we need re-assurance, learning more and more as we go, and doing our best not to panic.

And maybe avoiding the bee-keeping forums for a while. Sometimes, ignorance can be a blessed bliss.