You may recall that my two hives at Paul’s house have been struggling mightily, having been devastated by a brutal summer. Paul has been working hard to support the hives through the winter by feeding them sugar syrup. The syrup is converted into honey stores that the bees metabolize for energy and heat during the cold winter months. Without it they would die.
The feeding had gone uneventfully. Then last week or so, Paul tells me that a massive number of bees were seen in and about one of the two hives. And he also noted many, many dead bees at or near the entrance of the hive. One of my fears for these hives has been realized. The hive was robbed by another stronger hive. They were probably attracted by the syrup, and attempted to take over the syrup source, and no doubt pillaged the honey stores as well. This is confirmed by the fact that the population of the hive has gone down to almost nothing. My bees attempted to fight off the marauding hive, but lost. The verdict is determined empirically. All the dead bees are the evidence. They are largely mine.
Robber bees are always a threat. Hives contain a valuable resource–huge energy stores. Many animals (including humans) covet this sweet energy. It is much more efficient for bees to steal honey than it is to make honey from nectar. And of course this is exponentially more so in periods of dearth when there is no nectar flow. The best way to prevent robbing from other bees is to make sure your hive is strong. Failing that, you can also limit the size of the opening to your hive. This makes the hive easier to defend, much like a medieval fortress. You can also build a “robber screen” which is an ingenious structure that allows your own bees to enter and exit via a simple maze, but the robber bees do not know the way in, and try in vain to get through a screen.
Nor do you particularly want your own bees to rob other hives. Because weak hives could be weak for a reason. Such as infestation with contagious pathogens. And you don’t know what chemicals may have been used in such a hive. But it’s hard to know if your hive is robbing another. My father told me of a time when one of his hives was robbed of a large amount of honey, and a neighbor who also had bees reported “record” honey production by his hive. Cain slew Abel. It’s an age-old story.
Largely unattended bees suffered through a record-hot summer and dearth. They became very weak, and last-ditch efforts were undertaken to save them. But the efforts were in vain, as a stronger hive located them and robbed and killed them. You can imagine that this would be very frustrating and disheartening to a beekeeper. Yes. But better to learn lessons with the bees, instead of with things that are more important. Attend to that which needs attending from the very beginning, lest you weaken and become prey to the unscrupulous, in a time where none can save, no matter the effort. And from my perspective, rather than Paul’s, keep important things close to you so that you can more easily monitor them. And if you cannot, then train others to do so in your place. Do not rely on untrained reports.
In some ways, as time passes I become much less sentimental about my bees. I began as someone who was very concerned about losing even a few bees that might accidentally be crushed when putting the hive lid on. And now the loss of an entire colony is met with a sigh and shrug. It’s like the difference between being a pet owner and a farmer. The farmer grieves unnecessary loss, but not in the same way. The cycle of life is more apparent, more obvious, and more banal to the farmer, I think. Great epochs have come and gone. Mountains have lifted into the sky, and been washed into flats. Empires have risen and fallen away. And a colony of bees has died. There will be no memorial. The hive will be recycled for another colony, who will pick up where they left off, with no memory of it, but the smell of something of it, lingering in the wood and comb.