Goldenrod: Flower of Last Resort?

Of all the flowers in the United States, goldenrod is probably the second-most spoken of by beekeepers (the first is clover). But the funny thing is it usually goes untouched by bees. Or at least by my bees. I have goldenrod blooming here from August through October, and I check it often for foragers. It’s the soldier beetle I see dominating the goldenrod, covering the plants in a moving mass of feeding and mating through mid-September. Bees, on the other hand, are hard to find on the yellow flowers for most of their bloom period. It’s not until late September that I start seeing honey bees on goldenrod, suggesting it’s a little-desired flower for honey bees in my area. Only when there’s not much else to forage does goldenrod becomes a menu option. I’m not disparaging goldenrod. On the contrary, I’m grateful it’s available so late into the year; but it hasn’t been the panacea for fall honey harvests or winter food stores often touted by magazines, websites, and presentations at beekeeping clubs.

Honey bees don’t start showing up on my goldenrod flowers until late September

Are Wild Bees Healthier Than Kept Bees?

It's not uncommon to hear beekeepers lament the fact that we have such a hard time keeping our bees alive while wild colonies (more accurately feral colonies) get along just fine without any human intervention. The "proof" for this is typically a tree they've seen housing the same bee colony for years--or even decades. This leads us to speculate that by constantly meddling with our bees, they don't have a chance to develop a natural resistance to pests and disease, namely varroa mites. There is probably some truth to the improved survival rates of feral colonies, but bee researcher Tom Seeley has mostly attributed this to the high rates of swarming in feral hives compared to domesticated stock. It makes sense that a feral hive will outlive an untreated domesticated hive if it's getting frequent brood breaks from swarming. Brood breaks help control varroa by taking away their ability to reproduce inside capped brood cells. We beekeepers generally take measures to limit swarming, because--while it's good for varroa control--it's not good for honey production and we essentially lose half a colony each time it happens.

I took the above picture at a nearby nature reserve. I've seen bees flying in and out of this tree for the last few years. But today there were no bees. They had either perished or absconded. The odds are they were overwhelmed by varroa mites. (There are other possible explanations--the best one I can think of is they swarmed and the virgin queen failed to successfully mate.) But that's not really the point. The point is that this tree will probably be reoccupied by a swarm of bees in the spring. And people who visit this park will swear that the tree has been continuously occupied by bees for as long as they can remember. After all, the tree had bees two years ago, and last year, and now it's still got bees. Unless you monitor the tree very closely and very often, you'll have the impression that it's the same colony in there, year after year after year. And so is born the myth that wild bees have magically developed resistance to varroa mites. While in fact, wild honey bees are often just swarms from a nearby beekeeper. Their lifestyle (i.e. frequent swarming) may give them an edge, but genetically the bees are just as susceptible to diseases and pests as the bees in our apiaries. The illusion of their pest resistance shouldn't be used as an excuse to neglect the health of bees in our own yards.

Honey is Thirsty

A small "dry room" helps keep honey moisture in check during processing

In my part of Missouri, the average daytime humidity during the first 20 days of July was 95%. Not only does this make a bee veil pretty uncomfortable, but it also makes it hard for our bees to dry their honey to the same degree as a colony in Arizona, where the average humidity this month has been closer to 40%. This is because honey is hygroscopic, which means it readily absorbs moisture from the air. Colonies deal with this by extracting water while they're transfering nectar from bee-to-bee, fanning the nectar once it's in open cells, and then capping those cells with wax once the honey is sufficiently dehumidified. The resulting low moisture content and protective wax are a couple factors that give honey its superpower of being able to last indefinitely without spoiling.

Honey is particularly vulnerable to absorbing moisture while it's being processed (hygroscopic rehydration). At this point we've taken it from the bees, who have been working so diligently to remove water. We're also cutting away the protective wax cappings. During this phase I'm checking my moisture levels often using a honey refractometer. When I uncap a frame and it measures at 18-19% moisture, I don't have much wiggle room so I need to ensure that number doesn't climb while they honey is exposed to the air. Most of us don't have a dedicated honey house, so one option is to use a "dry room" to control the environment for your supers and honey buckets. A dehumidifier in one of these little tents can easily create Arizona-like weather and negate the moisture uptake you get during extraction and bottling; potentially being the difference between honey that lasts 2000 years and honey that ferments next spring.

My bees will never produce honey that rivals the moisture levels enjoyed by beekeepers in dryer areas. This is perfectly fine because I love our honey, and wouldn't want to change it. Frankly, when I hear of a local beekeeper selling honey at 15% moisture content, I'm curious (suspicious) about how they managed such a low number in such a humid environment. But if you're like me and want to offer raw honey with minimal manipulation, check your moisture levels to ensure they're below 18.5% and keep your processing area dry to minimize water uptake.

How to Split a Hive (Or Raise a Queen in a Queenless Colony)

This spring I made 10 splits. As of July, all 10 are queenright, each with a mated queen the workers raised themselves. I'm always surprised at how strong the market is for new queens, and while there's definitely a legitimate need for queen suppliers, I suspect most requeening could be done by individual beekeepers without relying on outside help. I've never bought a queen. Each of my colonies has a queen that can be traced back to an original Carniolan mother bee from my first nuc. As long as I like my stock of bees, I'll stick with raising my own. Below is the guide I made to help make timing decisions when I'm splitting each spring. If you're nervous about splitting or dealing with a queenless colony, follow these steps and I bet most (but not all) of the time you'll be successful. And once you're comfortable raising your own queens, you'll be a much more independent beekeeper.

Mowing around new splits with a scythe.

To split a hive, start with Step #1. For a queenless hive, start with Step #6-2.

1. Try to split in April after the bees have a chance to build up their population, but before the main nectar flow. Ideally there are queen cells in the hive.

2. From the parent hive, transfer one frame of brood with attending bees, two frames of stores with attached bees, and two empty frames into a nuc. If you’re using a full-size box instead of a nuc, you’ll need more frames.

3. Include the queen on the transferred frames*, plus shake a frame of bees into the nuc. So in total the nuc gets three built-out frames, four frames worth of bees, and the queen. *For the most effective swarm control, you must find and transfer the queen into the new hive.

4. The parent hive is left with at least five frames of brood and stores, but no queen. The brood left behind in the parent hive should at least include eggs or young larvae; preferably there will be at least one or two queen cells.

5. The old queen should begin to grow the nuc colony, and the parent colony is left with plenty of resources to raise a new queen.

6-1. The parent colony will still likely produce a honey crop, and the nuc can be moved into a full hive after you have a laying queen. Now for the split, skip to step 7.

6-2. (Queenless hive only) Take a frame of eggs and/or very young larvae from a queenright colony and transfer it into the queenless hive.

7. Seven days after the split (or frame transfer) there should be capped queen cells in the parent hive.

8. Fourteen days after the split, if there are still no queen cells in the parent hive, consider moving a frame of eggs from the nuc to the parent so the queenless colony has queen-making material.

9. Wait a total of 28 days after the split to see if you’ve got a laying queen.

10. If not, check again 7 days later.

11-1. SPLITS: If the parent hive can’t successfully raise a queen, combine the nuc back into the hive.

11-2. RE-QUEENING: If the queenless hive can’t raise a queen, consider buying a queen or combining it with another colony.

The Sweetest of Clovers

I seed my pasture with a lot of bee-friendly flowers each year. This year that included buckwheat, dutch white clover, yellow sweet clover, crimson clover, borage, white prairie clover, and more. With all of these blooming right now, the bees' preference is obvious--they love the yellow sweet clover. In fact, as long as the yellow sweet clover is in bloom, you're hard-pressed to find bees on the other flowers. This plant is a nitrogen fixer and was historically used extensively for hay, which is why it's a widespread "weed" now. If you've got a bit of land and you're looking to give your bees a source of nectar, consider putting yellow sweet clover down. I get mine from a local feed & seed store. It's surprisingly cheap, and pays you back in honey.