Today was the big day. We’ve been watching the weather and today was possibly the last day. Tonight it will rain buckets. Tomorrow the temperatures begin to fall, and we’ll descend into winter-like weather. Of course, It could warm up again, later in November. But there’s no guarantee. So today was the day that we had to winterize the bees.
This year, we’ve done everything “right.” We kept a lid on our varroa numbers. We fed them through the dearth of autumn. (Though, in reality, they continued to bring in resources well into October and didn’t eat much of what we gave them.) And, because studies show that smaller hives fare better in winter, today we completely took their hives apart and reconfigured them for winter. We also harvested some honey for ourselves–but not that much.
We have two hives this year. One is a ‘pedigreed’ hive–fancy Saskatraz bees from out of Canada. They have a reputation for being especially winter hardy and resistant to the dreaded varroa mites. The other is a swarm hive–local mutts. They came from a swarm hive that our friends have kept, for years now. So we know they can over-winter in Michigan’s cold climate. The swarm bees are pretty mellow. The pedigreed bees have a pedigreed attitude. We paid good money to get bees who think that they are better than we are. We suit up fully when we open that hive.
Or, almost.
Bees are not always organized about how they occupy a hive. It’s their home, their choice. But what you want going into winter, (as a beekeeper) is bees in the bottom, with densely packed honey above them for their winter stores. That isn’t always what they provide. Sometimes the frames will be only partially filled, or only built out on one side, but not the other, or having some of the cells uncapped and “wet,” that is, not fully evaporated down to the 17% moisture level that makes it honey. Capped honey never goes bad. Uncapped wet “honey” can ferment.
So our job today was to tear apart the hives and inspect, frame by frame, and to rebuild the hives with the best, fullest, honeycomb frames above the bottom, deep super, that will start as their home for the winter. As the winter progresses, they’ll eat the honey stored directly above them, and move up in the hive as they eat their way through the winter.
Our work today was a pretty invasive process and the bees were not impressed. We want the total hive (bees plus adequate winter stores) to be as small as possible, because the bees have to heat it, with just their body heat. A cavernous hive with spotty honey resources peppered through it is not a good recipe for winter survival. As extra insurance, we put hard sugar “candy” up in the very top of the hive, just in case the bees consume more in the winter than we’d estimated.
We started with the pedigreed hive. As anticipated, they were pissy about the invasion, and we had to smoke them aggressively. We were wearing full body bees suits, topped with heavy leather gloves. It was cool, about 54 degrees (F), so most of the bees were home. We won’t open a hive under 50 degrees–the bees will lose too much needed heat. The air was full of peeved bees. We were covered with bees. When a hive is alarmed the tone changes–the low hum of a happy hive picks up to a loud whine. We tried to work quickly.
At one point, a bee discovered my Achilles heel. I stupidly wore thin socks. The bee stung my ankle, right through that thin sock. There was nothing to do, but press on. It was, after all, the last day. It was my fault, really. I never wear thin socks when working the bees. What was I thinking? Just as we were closing up the Saskatraz hive, another bee found my other ankle. Damn. Well, at least it’s a matched set.
The swarm hive was much calmer. They didn’t like the invasion, but their pitch never ramped up to that warning whine. We’d worked out a system by then, pulling and examining each frame and sorting which ones were best to pack back into the hive for the bees. Those swarm bees made the chore a pleasure. It’s amazing how different two hives, side by side, can be in terms of temperament.
We finished and carted our tools and our harvested honey back down the hill to the house. We had to stop, several times on the way down, to brush bees off of us. It’s best to leave the bees at the hives. You really don’t want angry bees hanging around, or on you when to start to strip down out of your gear. Finally, when everything was put away, I could settle in to tend to my swelling ankles. Now, with the help of a hot cider, with just a touch of Irish whiskey in it, I can put my feet up and reflect on the success of the day. Ready for winter. Nearly perfect. Marred only a little my my failure to dress for the occasion.
(Sorry, no pics, my hands were busy.)
tworockchronicles 
It is so interesting to hear how beekeepers manage in other countries. Our climate here is totally different from yours but we would not open them to remove frames at temperatures under 15 Centigrade (15F) because the inside temperature is kept by them at between 32-35 degrees C.
We use Dadant hives, because everyone does in this area, and it means you can change equipment etc. Everyone also removes the top super and only winters the bees in the main, base box. This means emergency candy is not too far away from them, even if it gets very cold. Some people even over winter late swarms or small hives in nuke boxes.
It seems your colonies are much bigger than ours.
I have always thought everything tends to be bigger in the U.S.A. – your ice creams, your robins.. vive la difference! Amelia
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We use standard (10 frame) Langstroth equipment. Most use 2 deep boxes, followed by mediums for honey. From my perspective, that much honey in a deep box is just too heavy to lift, so we use one bottom deep, and mediums above. Sometimes, in peak season we’ll have a deep and three or four mediums up. If a hive needs more than that, we’ll split it into two. In autumn, the hive numbers shrink, as summer workers are replaces with a smaller core of sturdy bees, who’ll overwinter with the queen. By now, we should have been seeing dead bees out front–but the season has been mild and we still have a pretty full roster.
The winter objective is to decrease the total hive volume to two deeps, or even a deep and a medium, with a quilt box above. The bees, and some honey, are in the bottom box. The next box up is all honey (depending upon the size, deep or medium, that’s 65 to 90 pounds of honey, as winter stores.) The quilt box holds emergency sugar candy and pine shavings that serve as insulation, and to absorb excess moisture. When it gets colder–by December or so, we’ll put an outer sleeve of rigid insulation around the exterior of the hive. Your winters are much milder than ours. Part of the everything is bigger issue here is that there has to be enough honey to get them through the winter and early spring. I note that we’ll open the hives to a lower temperature than you (as low as 10 C), but that may be a matter of necessity–because our season is so short. The trend is to over-winter in smaller boxes–even nucs–if you have a large enough cluster to maintain temps, and enough honey.
Our robins? really?
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Your bees do have to last a long time in your winters. Ours are frequently out foraging during the winter on gorse and other winter flowering plants.
Our robins are sparrow sized. I have seen your robins the size of Thrushs in NY state.
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Sparrow-sized? Oh yes, then they are small by comparison. Some of our robins are as big as blue jays. But then, it may also be an issue of climate. Our robins need to be sturdy enough for a very long annual migration. I imagine that yours don’t go as far, or may even stick around through your mild winters. There is no forage here in the winter. Not for bees, at least. Some for birds, if they’re hardy.
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And–I note that you still have lovely color and flowers. We have only chrysanthemums left–and the color is in our trees.
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