From A to Bee (2 page)

  I made it my mission to learn everything I could about bees. I would get a couple of hives, bore my friends and family (even my morris-dancing father) with my new-found wisdom of the bee world and have a simple aim. Despite established hives being able to produce upwards of forty jars of honey per year, I only wanted to produce one pot of honey this year. Yes, that's right, just one jar of honey. It might not sound an awful lot but I have heard it can be rare for first-time beekeepers starting from scratch to get any honey in their first year. I hope you enjoy the journey.

My beekeeping career started today with the first of ten two-hour classes. I found the beekeeping course by performing a Google search and discovering that there were beekeeping associations that ran evening classes. I was already starting to feel old even thinking about beekeeping, let alone thinking about attending evening classes.

  I was feeling quite nervous as I drove to the local school where the course was being held, as I simply did not know what to expect. I was pleased to be earning brownie points as well as learning a new skill because, should we ever win the lottery, Jo and I would love to send our son to this rather grand school set in the heart of the Surrey countryside. Therefore, I reasoned, this was to be a reconnaissance mission as well as an evening class.

  While driving along on this miserably dark autumnal evening, I was wondering how beekeeping could possibly take ten weeks to learn. Surely these little black and yellow insects would be easy to look after. I was more interested in what the fellow enthusiasts were like, let alone the teacher. I had a very clear vision, probably gleaned from my knowledge of morris men: usually old, with beards, red cheeks and noses, well-rounded tummies and generally a fondness for drinking ale. I felt that beekeepers and morris men would be cut from the same cloth. I wondered if being beekeepers-in-the-making, beginner beekeepers would only have partial beards, slight tummies and merely a hint of reddening of the cheeks and nose. The teacher, on the other hand, being fully qualified, would have all the attributes of the morris man.

  As I drove into the school's vast driveway I was immediately in awe of the beautiful building in front of me, softly lit by floodlights. It was Gothic in appearance with impressive stonework and the most imposing arched windows and doorways dotted around its facade. I could just imagine Sebastian coming here. I approached the door of the classroom (which was one of the outbuildings and not so impressive, having probably been built in the 1960s!) with my heart beating slightly faster than usual. The strange nervousness of a new situation was dawning on me – as well as the frightening thought of a room full of morris-dancing beekeepers.

  I opened the door and walked into the classroom. In fact, everyone looked pretty normal. Only about 40 per cent had beards – none of the ladies did – and there were only a few rounded tummies. They all said hello to me, which was nice. The classroom had desks laid out in two horseshoes, with a desk at the front. Having only just got there on time I was the only one sitting in the smaller, inner horseshoe with everyone else behind me. I felt like a naughty schoolboy having to sit closest to the teacher and voiced this point to the others to subtle smiles.

  So the most difficult bit was done. Nerves gone, I just had to sit down and enjoy the next two hours. David, the teacher, was incredibly informative and immediately likeable. I hadn't spotted him straight away as he was standing off to one side. He was also the slimmest of the lot and had no reddening of the cheeks either, putting him way off my stereotypical beekeeper, though he did have the tell-tale beard. I later found out that he was one of the top beekeepers in our area. How do they measure this? Honey production? The beekeeper with the most beehives? Who knows, but I was certainly fortunate to be learning from him.

  This first session covered the basics and gave an insight into the world that I was about to enter. Within ten minutes I realised why these courses were ten weeks long. There was so much to learn. I drove home from the session utterly in awe of what I had just learned. I now know what honeybees look like (they are not the fat, hairy bees which are so obviously bumblebees but in fact look similar to wasps but with not so harsh colouring) and realise just how important they are to the world in which we live. I got home, offloaded a load of (what I believed to be) useful information to my wife, and then remembered about the reconnaissance mission. I told her about the school: brownie points duly earned.

  I can't sleep but I know I'm hooked on becoming a beekeeper.

It is now two days on from the first day of the course that changed so many of my ideas about the honeybee and I find that I cannot stop thinking about them. One fact on my course amazed me and I feel I have to look into it a little more. Doing this will introduce me to the practical side immediately and make it all feel a bit more real.

  I learned during Wednesday's session that bees can forage up to 3 miles away from the hive. This fact astounds me. Imagine the journey these little bees do, just in the search for nectar and pollen!

  I am truly desperate to look at a local map but I don't want to rush into this. I have a notion of sitting down with a nicely brewed cup of coffee with a map spread out in front of me. I will locate where my hives are to be based (have not got a clue where yet) and get a pair of compasses and plot a nice circle around my hives to the tune of 3 miles. There is a side of me imagining a World War bunker-type operation, complete with the map sprawled out over the table, low-level lighting, cigarette smoke hovering overhead and me manoeuvring little bee models around the map with funny-shaped sticks.

  I know I have a 1:25,000 map of the local area somewhere so I reckon this will be enough to tell me all I need to know. How many farms are there around here? How many fields for foraging and what types of crops are grown? This is obviously of utmost importance for the bees – I've heard that oilseed rape, for example, produces a very early honey harvest; if you leave it too long it goes rock hard apparently. I hope I don't have too much of that nearby. I feel fortunate to live in the country with lots of room for them to forage. I wonder if there's a difference between urban and rural bees and their respective honey…

After a short trip away with work, which meant being out of the house at 4 a.m. and only just arriving home at 11 p.m., I have had enough of my corporate world for today and am very tired. I have worked in the overseas property business for four years now and it involves a lot of international travel. For the first couple of years it was fantastic but now that I can even tell when Gatwick Airport WH Smith has restocked its shelves the travelling has lost its appeal. However, with map in hand, I feel that now is the time to see where my little ones might fly to.

  Jo and I get into bed and I bring with me the map and a glass of wine; who says romance is dead?! I also bring a pair of compasses ready to draw a nice circle around a proposed hive location to see just how far my bees will fly. I think this an ingenious plan though perhaps not the best implement to take into the marital bed. I then notice to my utter dismay that we are located right at the bottom of the map; I can therefore only see the top of the 3-mile circle.

  Even though I can only see half the story I still know this is a huge area for my bees to forage – a total area of nearly 19,000 acres after some quick mathematics. I immediately realise why they say that bees literally work themselves to death. As I view the area I also realise just how little I know about my local landscape and, due to the fact that I live in pretty much the middle of nowhere, how little I know about the farming and agriculture around me.

  I feel that I have to know more about this 'bee fly zone', and that I need to have a drive around to familiarise myself, not least because in that compass half-circle I count about five public houses. Imagine what I might find in the other, more populated half! As I am drifting off to sleep I feel it is entirely justified as maybe, just maybe, my bees might fly into the gardens of the public houses at some point and I might need to go and see what they are like. What a lovely excuse to go and investigate. A job for the weekend I think.

It's the second session of the course tonight and again I come away with a great appreciation for the 'humble' honeybee. For such little insects they are unbelievably sophisticated. Essentially the topic for this evening is the colony itself and its structure, but I can see that David is itching to tell us all some amazing facts: