Me, my bees, and the orchard

At long last I have now successfully set up a colony of bees in a local orchard, and I can't tell you how much pleasure that gave me. Nothing seems to happen quickly in the bee world, which I suppose is part the point of pursuing the kind of life style I want; slow living. I am not known for my patience, so being made to wait for weeks to work at the pace of others was a test of my resolve, and more than once I was ready to throw in the towel and give up on the idea.

Thankfully, I didn't because I now have a healthy colony of bees, that will need nurse-maiding over the autumn and winter months, but in doing this, I will learn about the personality and characteristics of the colony.  I have already learned they can be a bit feisty, as when I  moved them from the nucleus box they had been transported in, to my hive, I was given a welcome home sting for my troubles!    Is it worth it? Oh yes, even a sting couldn't knock the smile off my face as I watched them flying in circles around their new home, orienting themselves to the new location. I returned to see how they had settled yesterday and stood mesmerised as worker bees arrived laden with different coloured pollens, and others headed out to forage. It looked like Waterloo in the rush hour. So I am now officially a bee-keeper, albeit a novice!

My other news isn't quite so happy, and hit me hard, because I can't but help feel guilty that my ignorance lead to what happened. I lost one of my ex-batt girls; Agnes. It took me a while to figure out what was going on.

They had slowed down on egg production and their combs and wattles weren't as red as they had been, although they were still bright pink and they looked much healthier than when I got them back in March.

Stupidly, I had misunderstood their reluctance to roost in their coop the night before, in preference for the shed we had finished that day in their part of the garden.  I just assumed they were being fickle, and fancied themselves in the larger building.  How wrong I was. They were telling me something, but I wasn't listening.

Imagine the shock then when we opened the coop to let them out in the next morning as usual, to find Agnes, dead and Esther as Death's door.  I know we shouldn't get so attached to animals, and naming the chickens was probably a mistake, but I was so distraught.

After much heartache and investigation, I think that the culprit for their demise was Red Mite. Red Mite are tiny, lice like creatures that take up residence in the coop, and at night feed on the chicken's blood. If you get a serious infestation, this can cause severe anaemia in the hens and lead to sudden death.

So far I have used several lines of attack to defeat the evil mite which has included using a blow torch to sanitise the coop. Using Poultry Shield to the same end. A Pressure washer, and next week I shall use a fumer, as despite killing thousands of the little beggars, it's very tricky to get them all as they hide in the joints and some invariably seem to survive.

Whilst I am waging war against the Red Mites, the hens have a new coop, and after a worrying few days, where Esther hovered on the edge, and the others looked distinctly peeky, they have regained their colour and today we have even had eggs!

Once I am confident that we have the red mite under control, then I plan to get a few more hens as I now have two coops!