So right at 10am, when most of the foragers had headed out, I went down, with ample smoke, and put the unswarmed bees and comb back together as best I could. No stings, no trauma, just good, focused time with the bees. What a relief!
I did some more reading, and, really, if I wanted to split, I did most things right. Splits should happen no later than the day of a swarm, so that part was right. I could have done better about equally splitting the frames, but if I'd had smoke, I probably would have handled that better.
But what helped me to feel confident that, yes, the hive should not be split, was that strong hives can handle swarms, plus splits, and a strong hive has two deeps and three supers. I have two deeps and no supers, so I really need to let my hive build up its strength again before splitting. Hopefully next year.
As for the swarm, I planned to let it sit in the dark, cool trailer until the evening. Bees aren't likely to go looking for a new home in the middle of the night, and it's best to rehive them late in the day.
I also read that swarms shouldn't have a new home right next to their previous home. That was good to know, as I had planned to put it right next door, but I had an alternate spot and an alternate box to rest it on, so I got all ready for the evening.
I was feeling good about my bee interaction already in the day, when I noticed a lot of bees circling the cattle trailer. My banker's box was not secure enough, apparently, and the scouts were out. And if scouts are out, that meant the swarm could leave again, this time where I may not be able to find it.
So I had a dilemma. Do I attempt to rehive the bees early in the day, when they might leave my hive, or do I let the bees sit, where they might fly away?
I chose the former, and the rehiving went very well. I dumped, the queen fell in right away, the other bees flew in with her, and they appeared to make exploratory flights very well.
I had some planting to do, which I'll detail more later, and a persistent, unpleasant visitor stuck with me the whole time. One worker bee, who apparently viewed me as a threat though I was dozens of yards from either hive, continually buzzed my head. I put on my bee veil to work, and never did get stung, though it wasn't for lack of trying.
Perhaps this should have been an indicator of something not well in the bee world.
After dinner, I wondered if perhaps I should feed the bees after all. My notes said not to feed until the second day after rehiving, but since I had hived them so early in the day, maybe the evening is like the second day?
And the swarm had left.
Happily, it had flown to a reasonably available tree, hanging like a golden basketball from the branch of a pine, right on the other side of one of our cattle fences.
I got suited up and taped up the banker's box, so I wouldn't have issues with escaping bees. Phil wondered if I could dump them in the box, then immediately rehive them, and seal the hive so they would stay.
This seemed as good a plan as any, but first: to get the tired, hungry swarm. Second day swarms are notorious for their bad tempers. After all, they're just one day away from starvation, and that would make anyone grumpy.
Suited up, I held my box right under the hive, and jumped to grab their flexible branch. Some fell in the box. Some fell on the ground, or lower pine branches. I jumped again, and this time held the branch to continue to jostle and shake it.
Although bees walked all over me, I didn't get any stings. And I'm guessing the queen fell in on the first try again, since when I set the box down, the bees on the ground and in the branches flew over to the box, and the bees in the box didn't leave. I am thankful for all mercies.
Like yesterday, a third to a half of the bees remained in the tree, apparently oblivious to the queen's departure. Phil got me a little saw blade. Bees, apparently, don't hear, but they are sensitive to vibration, so I was hesitant to saw through their branch. Furthermore, I could only access the branch by balancing on the top of the cattle panel, and that section happened to be really loose. I was worried the wire would snap, and the panel and I would fall on the box.
So I gingerly cut through most of the branch, but when I got almost to the end, I had to grasp the branch so that when it was free, I could toss it into the box. I carefully tore the branch from the tree, and that was a long, slow process of peeling it off.
But it finally came, I tossed it perfectly onto the box, and the bees fell in.
One more little section of branch to saw through, and I had most of the bees captured.
I dropped them into the hive for the second time today. Phil had sealed the entrance, but I put some food down for them right away, and I think they were ready for it. I could watch the bubbles rise as they, apparently, lapped it up.
So I have my swarm. Twice caught, twice hived.
It's been an intense day.
But much thanksgiving: the hive didn't swarm on Sunday, when we were away all day. I moved the hive Friday, so when it swarmed, it headed right for the small fruit trees, rather than the large trees that border our clearing. The queen, both times, fell into the box on the first shot (had she fallen on the ground either time, what could I have done? I can hardly scoop up a queen and 20,000 bees). I noticed that the scouts were out, and so took control. And I noticed that the bees were gone, and was able to catch the swarm again. There has been grace and more grace.
But that was not the only thing of interest today.
While with the hives around midday, I noticed a black whip gliding along the top of the hay mulch. We are thrilled to see our cover crop poking through the mulch, but this snake beautifully glided along the top. It was far enough away that it was not fearful in the least, but just beautiful in its movement, in its swift departure.
But my big story is about rootstocks. Specifically, peach rootstocks. I received my shipment of 60 Prunus Americana rootstocks yesterday, and when I opened the package, I was horrified. I had expected 1/4", to fairly closely match the scion wood I have in the refrigerator, but what I found was not that. For comparison: the larger rootstocks are 3/8", so a bit bigger than 1/4", but not that much bigger. The calipers measured one of the largest at 1/8".
I called the kind people at Fedco, and found out some very interesting information. First of all, only one company in the country grows peach rootstocks, and Fedco orders years (!) in advance. Fedco always hopes that they will be 1/4", but many years they settle for less, simply because that's all there is.
This was sad for me and my scion wood, but the story doesn't end there. First, the young lady mentioned that when she has done bench grafting, as long as one side of the scion matches one side of the rootstock, a surprising number of them take. It is a bit hard to believe that something as slender as a spaghetti noodle could support the weight of something the diameter of a Sharpie, but I suppose it is possible.
But more than that, people are preferring to try bud grafting, and that allows for smaller rootstocks.
In the end, I was very satisfied with the conversation. I got a reduced rate for the small rootstocks, but now get to try my hand at bud grafting. Phil and I are scheduled for a grafting workshop this Saturday (I'm really excited!). In the meantime, I planted 40 of the rootstocks in their nursery places. They'll have a few months to grow in diameter, and be more vigorous and sturdy this summer, when it's time to bud graft. ("Nursery places": about 2' apart, in good soil, where they can grow for a year or so before being transplanted to their permanent spots.)
To round out a day of new experiences, we had a fun visit with friends who came to get a puppy. My jujube seeds continue to sprout. And it looks like my kiwi seeds, planted February 27, have started to sprout! I was about to throw away the sweet potatoes, too, since they have done nothing ... but I can see little growth around the eyes, so I'll keep them a bit longer.
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