Towards the tail end of summer, the honey flow is done and dusted. Hives are having honey boxes removed, or patiently waiting, silently sealing their lids with secretions. As well as extracting and disease inspecting in the field, I have been learning the finer ropes, some of the hundred little aspects that are all essential to our business model.
Diversity, in all forms, is an advantage in beekeeping. Knowing how to manage people, time, and equipment is a must.
My background as a mechanic saw me in good stead last week after our 16-frame extractor rapidly deteriorated with a series of knocks mid-extraction-day. We were able to replace the bearings and bushes and have her back up and running before the honey set in the pump. I’d say, a good deal – on a beekeeper’s hourly rate.
Out of the extraction room I have been involved in running off and packing honey and I am also becoming familiar with our 300-litre stainless steel, water jacketed wax melter – a hungry beast that devours every last capping, cut-out, or cone of wax from the centrifuge.
Glorious golden blocks give way to childhood memories. The smell and the slum-gum. Dipping fingers and hands into molten wax, creating massive casts, that were only to be peeled off and put back in the melter. Earlier still, the solar wax melter my dad made, following instruction from the bible (Practical Beekeeping in New Zealand). An angled box with a glass lid, that you could melt a couple of frames in on a hot day and run off into the attached 2 litre ice-cream container. Suitable for the old man, a big-time hobbyist with his twelve beehives.
The solar melter was succeeded by an old washing copper with a lid, and then an ex-butcher’s fat-rendering vat that was heated by oil. This was probably as much a liability as it was an asset, and I recall there was an element of fear associated with it. In any case, caution was warranted as the setup was complete with steam plant and hot knife.
Gone now are the knives and steam plants, given way to the automated pricker and centrifugal filter systems. But not the melter, inconspicuously in the corner, indispensable.
Wax is a valuable substance. Young bees are fed honey which they convert through glands on their abdomens to wax scales. At a ratio of around eight parts honey to make one of wax, there is definite value to the bees. Not just scaffolding. Hexagonal marvels moonlight as brood chambers and larders, as well as insulation and inductors of air-flows. Mixed with other secretions it becomes the anti-bacterial, anti-microbial and anti-biotic glue – propolis.
To the beekeeper, bees wax is also prized. Not only monetarily, but also as a base product. Made into sheets of foundation or used to coat plastic ones. The fun really starts when you get home, and I imagine most beekeepers have had a go tinkering with salves, balms, candles, crayons and polishes (while holding their eyes open with matchsticks).
Maybe that last comment is just me.
One thing I love about beekeeping is the diversity of it all. Gone are the 50 hour working weeks of pollination (until we meet again), but the surefire thing is, there’s always something to do.
Cleanliness is next to godliness in the honey shed, but millions of bees make a lot of wax scales. Between wax and honey, our days consist of keeping everything running smoothly and cleanly. 60 drums of our early crop honey have been snabbled up and we are eagerly awaiting their departure from the shed before the real extraction season begins and the shed is packed with boxes again.
Most of you will be in the thick of it as well, but do take a second to taste the honey and savour the moment, as I leave you with these two quotes from British author Angela Abraham:
“The story of the bees was told in honeycomb, in both the dance that built its walls and the flowing fragrant ink.”
“The honeycomb was pockets of sweet bee-dreams, each one a story of wildflowers and summer days.”
Enjoy,
-Aimz
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