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Hidden Beehives
By: James E. Tew
Nary a hive
I just returned from a two-thousand-mile road trip to visit my two brothers and be introduced to some brand-new grandnephews and grandnieces. It has been a long while since I held a baby. I’m happy to tell you that not much has changed with baby holding basics.
No longer am I a young man and for the past few years I have been distracted with family health issues. This was my first significant road trip in several years. Thankfully, the drive, other than tiring, went well. I did not cause an accident and I found my way back home without incident. Thanks to my brothers (I don’t have sisters), it was a nice Summer getaway.
Just as you must have done, on this and previous trips, I have literally watched thousands of beehiveless miles pass by. Seeing a beehive – even a single hive – is always reason for comment. I ask myself, “If beekeeping is so important to U.S. agriculture, why are our beeyards very nearly invisible to the public?” I don’t have a clear answer, but I have often thought that we are missing a public-relations moment by being so obscure with our bee activities.
It’s not just us
It’s not just U.S. beekeepers who don’t show off their colonies. Years ago, when I visited Ontario and Quebec, I didn’t commonly see their hives either. It wasn’t common to see hives from the road in Mexico when I traveled there. On more extreme trips, such as one to China I took many years ago, bee hives were practically invisible. When our tour group did finally see beeyards near the Great Wall, we practically jumped from the moving bus. A later trip to Australia provided my “visible beeyard” high water mark. We frequently saw hives from the bus and we pointed out each apiary to the driver – a behavior that was amusing for the first few hundred hives, but one that, I suspect, later became tiresome to him.
But, alas, for road travelers in the U.S., seeing a neat, organized beeyard is disappointingly rare. I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter. I suspect it’s just the beekeeper in me. Seeing beeyards along the highway invigorates me and lends support to my bee interest. But for all I know, the public would not even notice a visible beeyard. Maybe it’s just me.
When I consider my own feelings, I realize that I, too, actually prefer my yards somewhat secluded. If I’m going to get stung; if I can’t keep up with grass cutting in the yard; and if I can’t keep my hives nicely painted, then I am inclined to hide the yard. In fact, I had stockade fencing installed so I can mysteriously hide behind that wall to do my secretive bee things.
Oh well, whatever. I will continue to look for hives along my pathways of life, and I will continue to evaluate mile after mile of what appears to be unexploited nectar and pollen plants – all the while wondering why someone doesn’t put colonies there.
Before I leave this subject, I want to add this comment. Increasingly, I like to have my beeyards private to avoid unfair stinging accusations. Through the years, I have written multiple articles on the difficulty of living near fearful neighbors and their reactions to insect stings – from any insect. I suppose that I am hoping that “out of sight, out-of-mind” will forestall my bees being blamed when the occasional yellowjacket stings a neighbor. Seemingly, anything that stings must be my bees. This is just one more reason for hiding my hives.
Meanwhile, back at home
Now that I am safely home and having gotten the “why are there no visible hives along the road thing” off my chest, I now roam to a topic that continues in my current vein of hive-hiding – bee houses (or bee sheds or shacks or whatever you call them.) At this point, Editor Jerry is sighing and saying, “Not that bee house thing again…”
A cool, hive house
As a young kid, I can remember being disconcerted that I did not sweat as much as my father when we worked outside. He appeared manly when dripping sweat while I was skinny, tan, red-faced and bone dry. I honestly recall wetting myself down so I would appear to be sweating; therefore, leaving the appearance of performing real work. No problem now. I sweat the point of being water wasteful. I have it in mind that one of the things a bee shed would do is keep me out of the heat and in the shade1.
Secondly, even though I have (mostly) agreeable neighbors, they are watchful as I work my colonies. Who wouldn’t watch – veil, white suit, and a smoker smoking? Neighborly comments are common. I accept the occasional remark as a bee-way of life, but I frequently think that I would like the privacy of an enclosed bee house in which I could perform my secretive beehive manipulations and contemplate apiculture. As with yellowjacket stings, I have it in my mind that if my hives were out of sight, they would also be out of my neighbor’s mind.
Third on my list is that such a house may actually offer some protection to the hive both in the Summer and in the Winter. In theory, by being cooler in the Summer and warmer in the Winter, my hives would be happier and healthier. Others, including me, have written in the past about some of the attributes of a bee house, but their time seems to have passed here in the U.S. Some places in the world still use them.
Documented concerns
Common reasons for bee houses not being in vogue are cost and space. For what it would cost to build a small bee house, I could buy several (even many) more hives. Then there is the concern about a commitment to a permanent yard. Moving beehives is one thing while moving an established bee house is something else altogether.
A complaint that I would not have anticipated is mice infestations. Some of the very old writings have figuratively cursed large mice populations within the bee house. With all the food reserves, dead bees, and protection from the elements, it would appear that mice had found the perfect year-round home.
But I argue
So, there you have it…a bee house costs too much, space for colony growth is limited, benefits to the colony are questionable and mice love such places. Yet, I cannot get the concept from my mind. I argue that I could control my colonies better within a house. Robbing would decrease, and defensive bees would be somewhat contained within the structure rather than randomly flying around my neighbor as she cuts her grass (ergo future legal problems). I suggest that it would be more conducive for me to do the some of the beehive tasks that I put off due to the heat and sun or cold. For instance, right now it is 90+ºF. You must know that I am not going to do bee work now due to all the sweat that I now produce.
Since colonies in a bee house do not require outer covers, but rather only inner covers or screen tops, I would save a bit of equipment cost. I would assume that the colonies would be more comfortable and in theory, produce more honey, but I can’t say that conclusively. Even if they did produce more honey, could it be a result of my performance of timelier beehive management procedures (i.e., requeening, adding supers, and reversing brood chambers)?
Finally, would a bee house be a hive number restrictor? If I only have room for eight colonies would that restriction control my hive number growth? Written another way, I only intended to have about ten colonies in my home apiary but I now have closer to thirteen. Like most beekeepers, I can always justify a few more hives – hives that I really don’t need. If I had space restrictions, would I do a better job maintaining the restricted number?
My plan
I need to tell you the absolute truth. Heads-up. This story does not have a happy ending. I bought small, Amish-built utility building that I planned to house about eight colonies – four colonies per side. At the start, I only wanted two – four colonies in the house. The building would (ideally) be electrified and hives would sit on racks along the wall about twenty-four inches from the floor. I would cut slits in the building wall and provide landing boards on the outside of the building. I would want double doors on each end of the shack to provide a venturi effect to help with ventilation. If the building was high enough, I would consider a ceiling fan, but that never happened. I thought that there would be a small amount of space for surplus equipment storage or even room to extract, but I have never tried to extract so near bee hives – plus I do not have ready access to water. Though I enjoy woodworking and construction projects, I bought a pre-constructed building that was assembled on site.
Planning is free, but implementation of this project cost me several thousand dollars. Would it ever pay for itself in increased honey production? I doubt it. Would this ever be a commercial venture? Absolutely not. Then I faced some zoning restrictions but I finally got the required permit to put up the building. I pulled the switch and had the building constructed.
Here’s the sad ending to my bee barn caper. About the same time, I purchased a subcompact tractor with a few related attachments. Until I got the barn ready for the bees, I opted to park the new tractor in this new barn. The truth is that, all these years later, the barn and the tractor have grown old together. It became the tractor barn. I never put bees in the building.
Obviously, if this was a great idea, more of you would already be using bee houses. As I wrote earlier, bee houses were common in years past so we have used them more extensively in years gone by. But even so, some of you do presently keep hives within or under sheds. From those of you who currently keep bees in such buildings, what has been your experience? Clearly, my personal plan went wrong.
I never had intentions of putting all my colonies in a bee house, but here at my home in an urban setting, I am still curious to know if such a building would make me a better bee neighbor and allow me to enjoy beekeeping more. Simply stated, the tractor’s storage needs superseded the indoor bee project. I still think about the possibility, but city ordinances preclude me putting up any more out-buildings.
So now, I am wondering about a temporary structure – like a tent or canopy. I have never seen such a hive covering. Have you? But such a structure would blow away during a storm or would need to be taken down as Winter approached. Protecting wintering colonies was one of my initiatives. So, no to that evolving idea. I need to calm down.
In retrospect
In retrospect, I hide my apiaries for a reason, and I am growing to realize that I will never have any of my bees inside a building. That ship has sailed. But try as hard as I can, I can’t get the concept out of my mind.
Again, I would ask that if you presently keep bees inside a structure, I would like to hear from you. In podcasts and in other articles, I have described assigned “bee rooms” that some turn-of-the-century houses had included. Human occupants physically lived with their colonies. Know this. The way we typically keep bees now is not the only way that bees have been kept in past decades. I just can’t help but feel that we are missing some unexplored possibility in this zany hive yard arena.
Thank you
I always, always appreciate you reading my rants. I can’t fully explain how much writing for you helps me in my old age. Thank you.
Dr. James E. Tew
Emeritus Faculty, Entomology
The Ohio State University
tewbee2@gmail.com
Host, Honey Bee
Obscura Podcast
www.honeybeeobscura.com
1 Tew, James E. (July1997). The Overheated Beekeeper. Bee Culture Magazine.
² Photo from: Root, A.I. 1882, ABC of Bee Culture. Medina, Ohio. Page 20
3 Photo from: Root, A.I. 1882. ABC of Bee Culture. Medina, Ohio. Page 19
