hammock of honeybees

hammock of honeybees

hanging from a honey locust

branch -- ignoring thorns

On my way to town, I spot my neighbor Alitza in her white beekeeping outfit, standing near her hives. I wave and she waves back, but with a "come here" kind of gesture, so I back up and stop by her black pickup truck. She says she's got a swarm in a honey locust tree. Do I have time to watch her capture it? Of course! I race back to the house for my Canon, attach the 70-300mm lens and change into white pants and shirt.

The swarm on the branch is fairly docile, but lots of bees are milling all around, so I stand back out of the way. Alitza sets up a stepladder under the branch and climbs up to inspect the swarm.

Then she sets the swarm capture box near the hive where this swarm came from. The bees in this hive were new, but she doesn't know why they swarmed. She's been feeding them with sugar water because there aren't enough flowers for foraging yet. But something made some of them unhappy. Maybe they thought there was honey in the honey locust tree. There are still many bees in the old hive, so the ones who swarmed must have a new queen. Luckily they didn't swarm very far.

Slowly, carefully, Alitza trims away some of the branches from around the swarm. The bucket is to catch the swarm once the main branch is cut. At one point she has to stop to remove the long, sharp thorns that have gotten stuck in her veil and shirt. With my telephoto lens, I can see the bees piling up in a cone around one of the stiletto thorns sticking up from the middle of the swarm.

Finally she makes the last cut through the branch that holds the swarm.

The bucket was to catch the swarm once the branch was cut, but she doesn't have to use it. Holding the end of the branch with the swarm intact, she slowly descends the ladder.

And carries the swarm over to the swarm box.

It's a bit of a squeeze to get the branch into the box.

Gently she shakes the branch to dislodge the remaining bees. She hopes she got the queen.

Next she inserts four frames into the swarm box so the bees will have something to settle onto.

The covered swarm box, showing the hole where the bees can go in and out, sits on top of the old hive, which also has many bees congregating around its door.

After the bees in the swarm box have settled down, she transfers the four frames into a new hive, already loaded with more frames. The new hive sits a little ways away from the other hives, on the east side of a cedar tree. It's an easy way to get a new hive, she says. Hopefully, they'll stay put. 

sweet scent of wild plum

sweet scent of wild plum -- 

honey bees hover over 

froth of white blossoms

With frost continuing into May, the wild plums blossomed late this year. The first fruit trees to bloom, their sweet scent quickly attracted our neighbor's honey bees, as well as other pollinators such as native green bees, wasps and even horse flies. I, too, am drawn by the alluring fragrance and stand for a long time with my nose close to the small, frilly white flowers, attuning my breath to the hum of the bees.

butterflies pirouette

butterflies pirouette

on the pink lips of milkweed

half closed, half open 

Early June, time for Red Milkweed, Queen Anne's Lace and Bird's-foot Trefoil to take their turn blooming. This butterfly looks like it had a close encounter with a hungry bird.

Butterflies, large and small, singly and in groups, flock to the deep pink pom poms of Red Milkweed. 

Honey bees delve into the golden coins of Bird's-foot trefoil.

And wasps explore the white doilies of Queen Anne's Lace.

head down in the golden

head down in the golden

anthers a honey bee collects

nectar and pollen

Mid-April and we've had frost the last few days. I left the fruit trees to their fate but did cover my potted house plants put out during the hot spell in March. The tree peonies are already in full bloom. In just two weeks they emerged from tiny, tight, purple-green buds into huge, flounced blossoms enclosing a golden tassel. This morning the fuchsia blossoms and the serrated green leaves hung limp, but by midday the flowers have lifted their faces to the sun. 
          Honey bees, attracted by the bright pink petals, are diving headlong through the fringe of golden anthers at the center of each flower to reach the nectary with its sugary solution. In the process, the pollen gets stuck to the bee's hind legs. As the bee crawls around it deposits pollen grains on the sticky pink stigmas, either on this blossom or another one, thus fertilizing the ovules at the base of the the stigma. 
          One bee keeps diving into the folds of the petals, fruitlessly seeking the path to the source of sustenance. She finally finds her way to the mother lode, already being mined by a fellow forager. 
          By late afternoon the magenta petals have closed over the golden heart of each blossom. One lone bee keeps searching for entrance, but the flower seems to be saying, "Closed for the day, come back tomorrow when the sun is overhead."

spring at Bonnefield Lake

spring at Bonnefield Lake,

wild plum humming with bees,

couples everywhere

Early April but it feels like July, 88 F (31 C). I'm sweating as I walk around Bonnefield Lake after lunch. Passing a thicket of wild plum in bloom, humming with bees drawn by the sweet scent, I spot a pair of bikes lying on the path. Their owners, drawn by the water, are perched on the bank. Completely engrossed in each other, they don't even notice me passing by. A pair of ducks do notice me before I see them, flying off in a flurry of splashing water. And a pair of snapping turtles, sunning on a dead cedar tree a few feet from shore, slip into the water when I approach.