Creating a Native Flower Garden

Grass is just about everywhere, and it’s really good at outcompeting other plants. So for those of us who want to create natural, native spaces, grasses can be a challenge. One way to deal with grass (as well as other undesired vegetation) is to spray it with a herbicide—several times over the course of the growing season to get a good kill. But if you want to avoid multiple chemical applications, another option is to starve the grass of sunlight. All you need is a tarp and some stakes. Mow down the area you want to convert to a native garden, stake a tarp over that area, and wait a year. (I recommend using a green tarp to minimize any eyesore for you or your neighbors.) Pretty much everything under the tarp will die, leaving a blank canvas for planting your natives.

On the left is the newly seeded bare ground that was covered with a tarp in 2020, and on the right is the tarp to prep another patch of ground for 2021.

I did my first “tarp kill” last fall after getting the idea from—wait for it—a t-shirt company in Iowa. After a hot summer of baking in the sun, I found a nice piece of bare ground when I removed the tarp a month ago. That gave me a perfect spot to sow multiple types of milkweed, prairie blazing star, blue mistflower (shown above), and other native seeds I’ve been collecting from my field lately. Because these are native wildflowers that are wind-dispersed, you don’t need to dig holes for them, or fertilize them, or otherwise make a fuss. Just sprinkle them over the cleared area and let nature take its course. You can always walk over the area to press them into the ground if you’re worried about the wind blowing them away, but the freeze-thaw cycles of winter will do most of the work.

Butterfly weed seeds ready to transfer to my native garden space.

The size of your tarp determines the size of your garden, and you can make a pretty significant native space this way if you’re looking to convert a piece of your suburban lawn. On the other hand, this method may not work for larger properties, which may require prescribed burns or herbicides to convert in a timely manner. I’m going to keep overseeding my pasture with natives to slowly reintroduce biodiversity, and in the meantime I’ll expand this area each year, one tarp at a time. I can’t wait to see what it looks like in a couple years, and I’m excited for the opportunity to provide a little Eden for my honey bees, the native pollinators, and other wildlife.

Best Gifts for Beekeepers, 2020

It’s October. The leaves are turning, the flowers are fading, and the bees are buzzing a little less than they were a few weeks ago. So it’s time for my annual attempt to answer the age-old question, “What should I buy a beekeeper for Christmas?” You can start by checking out my suggestions from 2018 and 2019, which are all still solid ideas. But I’ll reflect on my year and do another list based on the things I've found most useful over the last year.

Before jumping in, know that I am not affiliated with any of these companies or products. I include links so it’s easy for you to find and buy them if you choose, but I don’t make a penny from any purchases. Everything here is included because I like it, not because I’m shilling products.

Top Pick, Under $10

Screen Repair Kit

These screen repair patches aren’t pretty, but they’ll give me a couple extra years between replacing veils

Beekeeping veils are quite delicate, and the first part to fail is the mesh screen around the face. In my experience, the screen on a veil is good for about a year before it develops rips and holes. The solution most beekeepers use is to either duct tape the screen (which might work for a day), or buy a new veil every year or two. The duct tape solution is cheap but it’s not a long-term solution. The new veil works but it’s wasteful and expensive. That’s why I started using a screen mending kit a few years ago. It’s under $7 and has enough material to make several patches. With this kit , I can get three years out of a veil before replacing it. The only equipment required to apply the patches is a hair dryer. It bonds to the veil much better than tape, doesn’t block nearly as much air flow as tape, and it’s cheap. A good bit of kit for a beekeeper’s toolbox, if you ask me.

Top Pick, $10-$20

Mason Bee Nesting Box

A mason bee hive hung on a tree next to our garden with fresh nesting tubes installed

Hanging a mason bee hive can be a good way for a beekeeper to support native species. Small native bees pollinate plants that aren’t blooming in large enough numbers to get attention from honey bees, so a mason bee hive can improve pollination in a little family garden that can get ignored otherwise. A mason bee house is also a fun way to avoid being a “one trick pony” and get experience with a variety of species. While I’ll never learn everything there is to learn about honey bees, keeping mason bees has been valuable in providing an alternative perspective and a greater context about how my honey bees fit into the larger world of pollinators. Mason bees do require a little work—nothing like honey bees, but anyone putting up a nest should do some online reading about the process, or get a kit that includes good instructions. Just about any nursery or garden supply store will sell mason bee hives, which come in a wide variety of designs and prices. But a cheap one is fine to start with and will only run about $18.

Top Picks, $20-$50

Beekeepers like to read about bees. It’s one of the best ways for us to stay on top of new scientific developments and best practices, and also just to immerse ourselves in bee stories. I’m putting two options here—either one, or both, would make a great gift for a beekeeper.

American Bee Journal

American Bee Journal is the go-to magazine for beekeeping

The American Bee Journal is a staple publication that’s been around since the mid-1800s, and it’s a good option for someone who’s not already getting a bee magazine. ABJ comes out monthly and costs $29 for 12 issues, which is a real bargain considering the amount of information packed into each magazine. Over the years, I’ve subscribed to the two big bee magazines in North America—the other being Bee Culture—and ABJ has won the competition for my subscription dollars. (To be fair, I haven’t read Bee Culture since they hired a new editor about a year ago.) If a beekeeper gets just one magazine to keep up-to-date on the hobby, this should be the one.

2 Million Blossoms

2 Million Blossoms is great for more seasoned beekeepers

Wrapping up its first year of publication, 2 Million Blossoms is a newcomer to the world of bee-related literature. But its creator and chief editor, Kirsten Traynor, is not. She’s a honey bee biologist and former editor at American Bee Journal. The magazine is sent quarterly and costs $35 for an annual subscription. 2 Million Blossoms won’t bore a seasoned beekeeper with articles meant to help new beeks get started. It covers all types of pollinators and the flowers that feed them, which is refreshing as someone who’s read the same beekeeping tropes year after year in bee-focused magazines.

Top Picks, $50-$100

Leatherman Skeletool

Keeping pliers, a knife, and a screwdriver on your belt can save a lot of trips between the bee yard and the workshop

Most people have a Leatherman or a similar multitool sitting around their house. I’ve got them too, and really don’t use them because I’m not keen on jamming a chunk of metal into my pocket all day. But the Leatherman Skeletool is different. It’s the first multitool I’ve been able to carry day after day. The thing that makes this tool better than the others is the spring-loaded clip that fits around a belt loop. I don’t have to put it in my pocket or fumble with a sheath. I just hook it to my belt loop and forget about it. That is until I’m working my bees and I find a screw that needs tightening, or a bolt that needs loosening, or a bag that needs cut open. This little tool costs $65, but that’s only about a nickel for each time it’s saved me from hiking up and down the hill between my bee yard and my workshop.

Pollen Substitute

Bees collecting Mann Lake pollen substitute

Pollinators don’t pollinate for free. The relationship between flowers and pollinators involves an ancient form of payments, where a flower offers sugars and proteins to a honey bee, who in turn pays for the loot by (accidentally) fertilizing nearby plants. A vast majority of this pollen is taken back to the hive, where it’s used for its protein. But there are times when pollen is scarce, and beekeepers can provide a substitute in order to ensure their bees can raise healthy brood. This 10 pound pail from Mann Lake is $70 on Amazon (it’s only about $40 on the Mann Lake site, but you’ll have to buy a few of them to qualify for free shipping). For most small hobby beekeepers, the 10 pound pail will last a full year.

Top Picks, $100-$200

Lyson Hive Stand Brackets

Picture credit: Betterbee.com

A lot of beekeepers don’t think about hive stands until the moment they need them. As a result, many hive stands are made from whatever was available on short notice—often cinder blocks—which may be functional, but can also be an eyesore for beekeepers who dote over the beauty of their apiary. I usually build my own stands using a few 2x6x12 boards connected with steel rods. They’re great and relatively cheap, working out to about $18 in materials per hive the last time I checked. But they’re heavy, hard to level, and tricky to move. A better option may be this hive stand kit from Lyson. I don’t own one of these, but it appeals to me because it uses easy-to-assemble steel legs paired with 2x4 boards. The legs can be independently adjusted, so leveling should be far, far easier than with my homemade stands. The manufacturer claims a kit can hold up to five hives, though I suspect the fit would be too tight for my taste. Up to four hives is probably more reasonable. The kit sells for $95, but shipping the kit and purchasing 2x4 boards will likely push it closer to $130. Assuming it comfortably holds four hives, that brings the price down to about $33 per hive—quite affordable compared to most pre-built hive stands, and I’d argue better thanks to the ease of leveling.

Beekeeping as a Gateway to Conservationism

Being a beekeeper can put you in a weird position. Or juxtaposition really. The general population views you as someone who is saving the bees, and is thereby saving the environment. I definitely get more “thanks for your service” comments for being a beekeeper than I do for being a veteran. And that’s a good thing—I like that there are people who hold service to the environment in high regard. But then there are those folks who are a bit more passionate about environmental conservation—they tend not to see beekeepers in such a positive light, and can frankly be a bit hostile toward us. I admire the work these people do, and to be honest it doesn’t feel good to be criticized by groups that I respect so much. But are they right to throw shade at beekeepers? Like so many things in beekeeping, there’s not a simple black-or-white answer to that question.

My pasture is full of pollinator-friendly plants like this tall green milkweed

I concede that the arguments against beekeeping are real. But those arguments, including increased competition and disease pressures to native species, are—in my view—heavily dependent on the type of beekeeping. Commercial operations that manage thousands of hives probably warrant criticism. One-thousand hives, which is a low number compared to big commercial outfits, could flood an area with 50 million honey bees in the summertime. That puts a lot of stress on other pollinators in that same area. But most of us aren’t keeping a thousand hives. In fact, all but a tiny percentage of beekeepers manage less than 25 hives, and I suspect small operations like these can be good for local pollinators.

One of multiple catalpa trees I’ve got planted, which will provide nectar to honey bees but is also the only tree that can support the native catalpa sphinx moth

First of all, most beekeepers are initially attracted to the hobby by the promise of honey. To get honey, the bees need flowers. It doesn’t take a new beekeeper long to realize the importance of flower diversity, because if everything bloomed at the same time, honey bees would be starving for most of the year. So a new beekeeper inevitably starts browsing seed magazines and visiting her local nurseries, looking for plants that will give her bees a boost during the spring or fill a critical gap during the August dearth. As she learns more about different flowers, she’ll get at least some education on native versus non-native versus invasive plants. Over a couple years, the beekeeper will watch her new flowers like a hawk, hoping to see foraging honey bees. But what she’ll mostly see are tiny bees and colorful wasps she’s never seen before. So even her narrow focus on honey bees has provided benefit to other pollinators. But often it doesn’t end there, which brings me to my next point.

Beekeeping is a gateway into nature conservation. While we all started out with the goal of providing nectar to our honey bees, we inadvertently provided sustenance to untold numbers of native bees, beetles, wasps, butterflies, moths, hummingbirds, and bats that are living around us. After a couple years of seeing these pollinators, being curious about them, learning about their status in the world, I personally have shifted my planting efforts from honey bees to native pollinators. I’m under no illusion that my honey bees won’t also benefit, but I focus now on native flowers that can provide food for all pollinators. Over the last 10 years, I’ve spent a lot of money and effort trying to create a healthy environment for these creatures. Before I started beekeeping, I would’ve scoffed at the idea of spending thousands of dollars on the well-being of insects, but now it’s a passion that extends to nurturing and protecting all natural spaces. I believe this happens to a lot of hobby beekeepers. Over time we become more and more sensitive to environmental issues, and not just those affecting our honey bees.

Seeded goldenrod that now provides an important source of food to a healthy population of native double-banded scoliid wasps

So from a conservation standpoint it’s hard to defend having thousands of hives in one area (in defense of commercial beekeepers, it becomes much easier to defend from an agricultural standpoint). But 99% of beekeepers in the US don’t fall into that category, and I believe we are providing a net-positive impact on pollinators. So if you’re a beekeeper who’s been told you’re doing harm, just use it as an chance to reflect on your beekeeping practices. If you’re working to manage and minimize disease and pests in your hives, and if you’re making an effort to plant pollinator-friendly flowers, then I don’t think you should feel any guilt. In fact, you should probably be thanked for your service.

Moving a Swarm into a Nearby Hive

“Two feet or two miles” is an old adage in beekeeping. This refers to the distance required to move a bee colony from one place to another. The saying means you should either move the colony within two feet of its location, or at least two miles from its location. This is because honey bees have a knack for returning home; which is great so long as we don’t move their home. A hive you shift just a couple feet can be readily located by a returning forager, and a hive you transfer a few miles away will trigger the bees to reorient to their new location. When I had an outyard, this worked well for me—I could truck swarms to their new home 30 miles away, guaranteeing they wouldn’t fly back to the the tree I took them from. But now with my bees in one apiary, and with bait hives set up around my bee yard to catch newly birthed colonies that outmaneuver my anti-swarming efforts, the “two feet or two miles” axiom has become inconvenient, if not impossible, for me to follow. So how do I move a swarm to a new hive that’s more than two feet away, but nowhere near two miles away?

This swarm trap was positioned in a tree 30 feet behind an empty space on a hive stand

Well, I start by carefully planning the locations of my swarm traps. I’ve kept traps anywhere from 5 feet to 500 feet from my bee yard. What I’ve noticed over the years is that my swarms generally avoid the traps at either extreme of that range, and instead prefer those that are within 100 feet of the bee yard. I don’t know if that’s common for all bees, or if it’s because of my specific terrain (rolling valleys), the ecosystem here (forests and pasture), or other factors unique to my area. But because of this, I don’t even bother setting up traps anymore that are more than 100 feet from my hives. In fact, I try to position traps in the edge of the woods about 30 feet behind my bees. The exact locations of my swarm traps depend on where I’m planning to hive the swarm.

Comb being constructed outside this flower pot swarm trap

The swarm trap gets secured to a tree about 10-12 feet off the ground. I use both handmade boxes and flower pot-style cardboard traps. The boxes are great because they hold deep frames for tidy comb-building. But they’re stupid heavy when you’re on a ladder trying to fasten them to a tree, and they need a platorm—either a limb or something you build—to keep them level and secure. The flower pots are great because they’re so light and easy to take up a ladder—I screw them into garden lattice (most people use plywood), which keeps them light and provides nice big holes for mounting and securing. The downside to a flower pot is that the bees build freestyle comb that needs to be cut out and moved into a frame when you re-hive them (which you shouldn’t put off for too long with this type of trap). For that, I wrap several rubber bands around a foundationless frame, tuck the comb between the rubber bands, and stick it in their new hive.

A deep frame with the foundation removed; the rubber bands will keep the comb in place until the bees attach it to the frame

When moving the swarm, which I typically do mid-day, I first remove the trap from its tree and place it next to the hive I intend to put them in. The bees—finding their home disturbed—will begin fanning their nasonov pheromone to let the rest of the colony know where they’re at. I’ll also spray a bit of Swarm Commander (or lemongrass oil) into the entrance of their new hive. Then I leave them alone for at least a few hours. During that time, foragers will return to find their home is gone. They’ll fly loops in front of their old tree for a while, but it’s close enough that the nasonov scenting will draw most of them to the new spot. The squirt of Swarm Commander will also start drawing some of the bees into the new box, where I assume they’re impressed by a couple frames of already-drawn comb.

I come back later in the day, usually after I finish working my other bees, and by then most of the foragers have been lured into the new position by their fanning sisters. If there’s still a cluster hanging out on the tree, it’s a good idea to make sure the queen isn’t also there. Then scoop them up and take them to the new location. Even if a few fly back to the tree, the nasonov will probably help them figure it out eventually.

One day after moving this swarm into a nuc box, the bees were ignoring their old tree

At this point I break open the swarm trap and move the bees into their new hive, propping the trap against the hive to help any stragglers find their way. Within a day or two, all the bees will be re-homed and they’ll be flying to-and-from their new hive, as if that’s where they wanted to live all along.

Easy Solar Wax Melter

As the spring brings warmer, sunnier days, I realize it’s time to start melting batches of burr comb, honey cappings, and other wax scraps from frames that were pulled out of service last year. I don’t get much wax compared to other beekeepers, because I use a pin roller to uncap my honey during the summer harvest. I forego the wax in order to preserve comb for my bees. But I never waste what little wax I get, and turn the cleaned product into candles that can be used in my home or as gifts to family and friends. If you’re interested in how I turn the wax into candles, you can read about it here.

But before you can even think about making candles, you have to process the wax. If you’ve pulled burr comb out of a hive, you know that it can be filled with pollen, honey, and brood. These are not the ingredients of good candles or lip balm. To melt and clean my wax at the same time, I employ a homemade solar wax melter. Really it’s just an old cooler with a piece of plexiglass over it. The wax sits on a couple paper towels in an aluminum roasting pan you can get very cheaply at your grocery store—I use a nail to poke about ten 1/8” holes on one side of the pan. The pan is held at an angle, sloping downward, by a wooden platform I built out of scrap lumber. The holes should be on the low side of the pan, with a plastic food container placed beneath them to catch the dripping wax as it melts. To top it all off, I set a weight on the end of the plexiglass to help “seal” the air gap between it and the cooler.

This is the clean 10 oz block of wax I got out of the batch shown above

All told this setup probably cost me $30 ten years ago, and I’ve been using it to melt small batches of wax ever since. I can face it into the sun on a warm morning and by that evening I have a block of cleaned wax. The paper towels do a fantastic job filtering debris before it drips through the holes; you are likely to end up with a layer of honey below your dried wax, which can be fed back to the bees or spread on your toast. There’s very little involved in terms of labor with this setup, though I occasionally adjust the melter to face the sun if I happen to be walking past.

About 10 hours into a homemade beeswax taper candle

I managed to get about 10 ounces (283 grams) of wax processed from the batch shown in the top picture, which will be good for about three taper candles. I did this with a bare-bones set up, zero electricity, and very little time committed. The three candles that come from this effort will provide over 30 hours of light, aroma, and ambiance. On the next sunny day, I’ll do it again. And it’ll all pay off on a future winter night when there’s snow on the ground, the wind is howling, and my homemade beeswax candle is lighting the walls of my cabin.