Just a very quick post to say that, finally, I have my bees. I got the call from my supplier to say that, following lengthy negotiations, the workers had finally accepted the new queen, subject to ratification at conference, and that as a result my hive was now ready for me to pick up.
My excitement was tempered by the fact that I was now faced with that three-quarter-of-an-hour journey over those Somerset country lanes to pick them up. Or, to be precise, the journey back with them sitting in the back of a small car. Here they are, perched daintily on top of the Tescos bag and the other crap that gets thrown in the back of said car:
(Note the small piece of foam rubber blocking the exit. The only thing between me and a swarm of angry bees.)
I’m exaggerating of course. In the event, I didn’t hear a peep out of them the entire journey – possibly because it was in the evening, long after they’d finished flying around and settled down for the night.
Once I’d brought them home, I took them straight to their final home in the middle of some apple trees. Cosy, isn’t it?
I gingerly removed the hive strap and foam rubber and stepped back. Nothing happened. Well, they were probably tired after their long journey. Car journeys do that to me, too. We’ll take another look tomorrow to see if they’re going to venture outside and check out their new home.