We’ve had a week of warmer days, so it was time to check on the bees at our son’s farm. I have decided that calling myself a beekeeper isn’t the correct title. I don’t keep bees. I watch them. I occasionally feed them with pollen cake and syrup. I harvest some of their honey. I put devices on their hives to help them stay warm in the winter. The bees to the res of the work. They decide when it is time to head out to collect pollen and nectar from the plants on the farm. They keep their hives clean. They care for the developing larvae. They ensure the queen has food and is kept at an appropriate temperature.

Bees, however, are a form of agriculture. The bee colonies at the farm came from nuclear colonies that I purchased and installed in hives that I bought and built at the farm. The nuclear colonies came from California and were imported into Washington by a friend. Their heritage, like mine, is European. Their genetic strains can be traced back to Italy and Russia. Domestic honey bees are not native to our area. There are approximately 600 varieties of bees that are native to Washington, including alkali bees, blue orchard bees, also known as mason bees, western bumblebees, leafcutter bees, fairy bees, green sweat bees, and nomad bees.

At the farm, a few digger bees are already appearing, and I’ve seen mason bees out as well as the honey bees from our colonies. We are being careful with the bees that we tend. We don’t want them to displace any of the native pollinators. However, the farm grows quite a few plants that also have been imported. The native trees in this area include evergreens, poplars, birch, hawthorn, bitter cherry, and Pacific madrone. The apple, pear, plum, and other fruit trees in the orchard were imported. The blueberry bushes were planted after the farm was developed. The tulips, hyacinths, daffodils, and dahlias were all imported plants. Most lavender and other decorative plants have been brought to the farm. These plants need insect pollinators, so there is plenty of space for a few domestic honey bees.

Raising bees is something that I have wanted to do for a long time, but I had reserved it for retirement because I wanted to have enough time to give the bees my attention. I’m a bit busier than expected in retirement, but the bees are not demanding. I was also inspired to tend bees because of my friendship with a brilliant professor, an amateur beekeeper. He was a practical man with a scientific mind that he brought to all his activities. He had developed his observation skills and combined them with his voracious appetite for reading. He did not need to show off his knowledge but enjoyed sharing the honey his bees produced. I enjoyed consuming that honey. He would donate cases of pint jars of honey to our church rummage sale. Once, I offered to buy any that were left over, but none were left over after the sale. The following year, I bought several jars of honey when the sale was opened to the public.

The bees encourage what I call “slow work.” They can become riled and defensive if I move quickly among them. Last year, I was stung a couple of times when I tried to rush my chores with the bees. I am resolved to try to avoid being stung this year. Yesterday, I was checking on the bees, so I removed a few boxes of frames and looked in on them. I refreshed their syrup, and that was about all. Over the next month, I plan to move their frames into different boxes with fresh paint. The boxes they are in have been outside for two years and need a bit of refreshment. I can move the frames from one box to another without disrupting the bees too much. But if I rush the process, the bees won’t remain calm. When they swarm around me, it is best that I walk away and allow them to calm down before resuming.

I need to calm myself down. If I am afraid of being stung, the bees seem to be able to sense my nervousness. When I am calm and quiet and work very slowly, the bees go on without paying me too much attention. The friend from whom I purchased the bees and occasionally purchase supplies calls it the Zen of beekeeping. I’m not a practicing Buddhist and am no expert on Zen, but I know that part of Buddhist meditation is paying attention to breathing. When working with the bees, I focus on breathing, taking deep breaths, and remaining calm. I grew up around sheepherders and cowboys who spoke to their animals, and I talk to the bees a bit while working with them. I keep my voice calm and greet the girls.
In a bee colony, only drones are male, and there are only drones when the colony produces a new queen. Most of the bees I see are female workers. Bees don’t have ears with bones like humans do. They don’t hear the way we do. They can sense vibration and respond to the vibration of the wings of the other bees in the colony. The perform “dances,” moving their bodies in repetitive patterns to communicate with other bees. They can give directions to productive flowers for nectar and pollen to other bees. I assume that they can communicate danger as well. It seems that the bees recognize me, or at least they recognize the scent of my bee suit. Individual bees occasionally crawl on the suit, but they don’t stay long. They have other things to do. My gloves often have a bit of pollen on them and can be interesting to the bees, but their visits are brief.

I am grateful for the bees' presence and the opportunity to keep and watch them. I’m a novice. This will only be my third year of tending bees. They, however, seem to tolerate my inexperience and have a lot to teach me.