Watching the Hive Entrance Is Better Than Television

The first time I suited up to inspect a hive, I was scared. I had this image in my head of thousands of bees just waiting for an opportunity to sting me. My bee suit felt about three sizes too big, my gloves were bulky & awkward, and I was trying very hard to pretend I wasn’t nervous.

Rene looked over at me and said something that surprised me.

“Don’t worry about opening the hive yet. Just stand here and watch the front door.”

So I did.

At first, I didn’t understand what I was looking at.

It was just… bees.

Hundreds of them.

Some leaving.

Some arriving.

Some buzzing around in circles.

It looked like complete chaos.

Then Rene started pointing things out.

“See those two?”

I watched as two bees began wrestling right at the entrance. A few seconds later, one of them was sent packing while the other calmly walked back inside.

“The guards,” he said.

Wait… What? They have guards?

Then he pointed to another bee.

“Look at her legs.”

I hadn’t even noticed. Hanging from each back leg were two bright golden-orange balls of pollen, packed so tightly they looked like little saddlebags ready to burst. It was as if she had collected tiny pieces of sunshine from the flowers and was carrying them home to the hive. She landed, disappeared into the hive, and almost immediately another bee launched into the air with empty pollen baskets, headed back out to the flowers.

Once I saw it…

I couldn’t stop seeing it.

One bee came home.

Another left.

One returned carrying little bundles of yellow, orange, or even deep red pollen.

Another took off with empty baskets, ready to fill them all over again.

It reminded me of watching airplanes at an airport.

Every flight has a destination.

Every arrival came from somewhere.

And if you stand there long enough, you start to notice something else.

Most of them leave in almost exactly the same direction.

Somewhere out there, beyond our bee yard, they’ve found a patch of flowers worth visiting, and thousands of tiny bees are flying the same invisible highway back and forth all day long.

These days, every hive inspection starts the same way.

Before I ever pick up my hive tool…

Before I crack open the lid…

I stand quietly and watch the entrance.

You can learn a surprising amount before you ever open a hive.

You can see if they’re bringing in pollen.

You can watch orientation flights as young bees learn where home is.

Sometimes you’ll catch guards turning away an intruder.

One of my favorite things to watch is when the drones get evicted.

If you’ve never heard about drones, they’re the boys of the hive. Their only job is to mate with a queen from another colony. They don’t gather pollen. They don’t make wax. They don’t help raise baby bees. All they do is eat the collonies resourses. Eventually, the workers decide freeloading season is over, and the drones are politely, but firmly, shown the door.

Watching them drag these big, confused boys out of the front door is both fascinating… and just a little funny.

The first time I saw it, I couldn’t believe what I was watching.

One afternoon I climbed out of the truck and wandered over to the hives while Rene was still putting on his bee suit.

I wasn’t wearing one yet.

I stood there less than a foot from the entrance, completely fascinated, watching the bees come and go. Meanwhile, Rene got stung before he even finished getting dressed.

Go figure.

Watching the hive entrance has taught me something else, too.

First impressions don’t tell the whole story.

At first glance, it looks chaotic.

Thousands of bees flying everywhere.

But if you slow down and really watch…

It’s anything but chaos.

Every bee has a purpose.

Every bee knows exactly what she’s supposed to do.

The guards stand watch.

The foragers come home carrying tiny pieces of sunshine strapped to their legs.

The nurse bees wait inside.

The whole colony moves with a rhythm that’s almost impossible to appreciate unless you stop long enough to notice it.

If you ever visit our apiary, Rene will probably hand you a bee suit and say,

“Let’s open a hive.”

Me?

I’ll probably hand you a chair.

We’ll sit quietly for a few minutes and watch the front door.

Because before you ever understand what’s happening inside a hive…

You learn an awful lot just by watching the bees come home.

Thank you for spending a little time in the hive today.

Until next time,

~ Tracy 🐝