Irish beekeepers are an industrious lot: this year's conference featured sessions on honey and husbandry, stings and queens, and how bees love a good chat, writes ROSITA BOLAND
IF YOU EVER thought an aquarium of exotic fish was entertaining, all I can say is, forget the fish, and install an observation beehive instead.
I’m at Gormanston College in Co Meath, where the Federation of Irish Beekeepers’ Associations is holding its annual week-long courses for beekeepers at all levels, and I’m in danger of being late for the first talk because the observation beehive outside the registration office is so beguiling.
This is a large shallow panel sandwiched between glass, containing the beginnings of a wax comb and many, many bees being busy within. There is a pipe-like opening to the grounds outside, to allow the bees to come and go from the hive. Watching the bees through the glass is utterly hypnotic. It’s like looking inside someone’s head; seeing the intricacies of, literally, an entire self-contained industry.
Someone points out the queen bee to me; noticeable among the hundreds of other small dark bodies by a distinctive white mark on its back. I first assume the queen has been marked by the other bees in some kind of ritual, until it is kindly pointed out to me that the marking is done not by its fellow bees, but by its human keeper. Clearly, I have everything to learn.
This year marks the 50th annual summer course held by the federation at the college, and numbers in attendance are higher than ever. There are some 367 people in Meath this week for the courses, the majority from Ireland, but roughly a quarter from Britain, Italy, The Netherlands and Germany.
I am a bee novice. Myself and 80 other people of all ages squash into a 1950s classroom for the first talk of the week in the preliminary level course, called simply, “Getting Started”.
Philip McCabe, our speaker, is the third generation of beekeepers in his family. When his father died at 94, he was buried with six bees – six live bees – “to carry my father’s spirit”, as McCabe tells us. The same ritual happened for his grandfather.
McCabe is a natural teacher; a lively speaker, and a fine storyteller who effortlessly imparts his enthusiasm for the beekeeping he so clearly adores. These are some of the things I learn during his talk:
Wear protective clothing. “Bees,” McCabe warns darkly, “will get in where you wouldn’t believe. Be prepared for stings,” he states briskly. “But if your throat swells up [possible signs of anaphylactic shock], seek medical attention straight away.”
Talk to the bees. “They can’t hear you, but it calms you down.”
Don’t visit your hives when you’re not in a good mood. The bees will sense it, and it will upset them, and possibly “get their gander up”. Translated: they’ll sting you. “It takes 22 minutes for the sting to enter.”
Bees and horses do not mix. Don’t site your hive anywhere near horses.
When installing your hive, the best orientation has the entrance to the southeast. Don’t worry about having hives near the house. “There’s nothing of interest to a honey bee in your house, unless it’s an opened jar of honey.”
DEPENDING ON WHAT level of beekeeping you are at, among the many other topics on offer during the week, along with practical demonstrations, are: Drones in the present day; Queen rearing on a small scale; Honey fit for a king; Communication in the honeybee colony; and Beeswax for cosmetics and flowers.
The beekeepers’ federation has 2,100 registered members, of whom 667 have signed up in the past year. Why are so many people becoming interested in beekeeping?
“For the past three years, I haven’t seen one single honey bee in my garden,” explains Inga Reed from Kilkenny, who is taking the preliminary course. “Not even one. That worried me. It’s the main reason I’m taking this course and keeping a hive. The bees will help propagate my fruit trees.”
Richard Molloy, a biology teacher from Galway, confesses that, like Pooh Bear, he has “always loved honey. I love getting jars of honey from different countries and comparing the different tastes.” In his opinion, Irish and Scottish heather honey are the best.
Gypsy Ray, originally from California and now living in Kilkenny, already has two hives and wants to start a third. “I’m fascinated by what bees do,” she explains. “They are so intelligent. People are keeping bees now because of the times that are in it: they’re keeping chickens and bees and growing their own organic vegetables. I’m keeping bees because they’re good for the environment – and the honey they produce is a bonus.”
irishbeekeeping.ie
Colony Collapse Disorder Where have all the bees gone?
Honey bees are vanishing. They have been disappearing since the 1940s, but their decline has accelerated dramatically worldwide in the past four years.
Bee colonies matter because they aid the pollination of fruit, vegetables and flowers and are thus a vital element of the food chain. The US alone has lost billions of bees in recent years.
A colony can mysteriously die off in just two days, from as yet unknown causes. This is known as Colony Collapse Disorder, when adult bees vanish from the hive, leaving honey and pollen behind.
The phenomenon has been taking a toll on beehives worldwide since 2006. Researchers still know little about the disorder – except that more than one agent is at work. No single pathogen, parasite, pesticide or other environmental factor shows up in every manifestation of the disorder, making it extremely difficult to determine the cause.
