My final dive into a brood box of the season is for the removal of the Apivar strips at end of the late-summer miticide treatment. Typically, this occurs in early- to mid-October, and I'll choose early afternoon on a warm day when the bees are still likely to be foraging. That wasn't a problem this year as the weather is still unusually warm, and the bees remain preoccupied with the Himalayan balsam in the valley bottom. Every third or fourth returning bee bore the characteristic broad pale thoracic stripe indicating where they'd been foraging. There was also a lot of yellow pollen being brought back, perhaps gorse or ivy. Used Apivar strips Apivar treatment should take 8–10 weeks if there is brood in the colony … and there is during late summer and early autumn. When the strips were added (the 5th of August), many colonies had 7–9 frames of brood. Since then, the brood nest has gradually contracted, and those I inspected had no more than 2–3 frames of brood, and many less. This contraction of the brood nest will continue as the weather cools. We have yet to have any overnight frosts, but the last couple of nights have reached low single-digits (°C), so it probably won't be long. The bees will be clustering overnight, and the laying rate of the queen is dropping fast. ****Why not sponsor The Apiarist?**** Sponsors of __The Apiarist__ receive a newsletter on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping __every__ week, at least 50% of which are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship supports my research and writing, and costs about the same as a coffee and doughnut a month, or less annually … go on, you know it makes sense. Become a sponsor ## Oxalic acid Once the colonies are broodless, or are just ticking over with minimal levels of brood, I'll treat with oxalic acid (OA). ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

In early March 2020 I went to Oban on the west coast of Scotland to talk to the local beekeeping association about _Varroa_ management. At the pre-talk meal {{1}} I said it was probably my last in-person talk as a 'lockdown' would inevitably soon be imposed. I was wrong, but only by three weeks {{2}}. The 'stay-at-home' order, to reduce COVID-19 transmission, was introduced on the 23rd of the month. I was also wrong because during the intervening period I talked (on queen mating and polyandry if I remember correctly) at the SNHBS AGM; attendees were already keeping their distance, not shaking hands and giving a very wide berth to anyone coughing. It was the Covid phony-war period, but everyone knew that seismic changes were imminent. Other than (again) demonstrating that I can be wrong about several things simultaneously, these events were the beginning of a fundamental change to the way society — and, of relevance to this post, _societies_ — work. That first lockdown and the subsequent ~14 months of intermittent restrictions on social mixing marked the beginning of online talks to beekeeping associations {{3}}. Since then, I've given ~120 talks, about 98% of which have been online. In the early 2020s this was enforced, more recently it's through choice. The Zoom share price jumped 900% as beekeeping associations started online talks (not the only reason). The subsequent 900% drop in the share price was due to some major security issues with early software releases. Now, more than half a decade after that Oban talk, I'm about to start the first of my winter talks to beekeeping associations, all but one to my local association will be online. The talks where I'm on the other side of the microphone, on beekeeping, wildlife and birdwatching, will also predominantly be online. These changes have been both beneficial and detrimental. Although I know many hanker for the 'good old days', when everyone met for a natter and a cup of tea, overall I think the benefits outweigh disadvantages … for both speakers and those in the audience. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Despite it still being _“T-shirt and shorts”_ weather, autumn is here. We've had some lovely warm days, and the bees continue to busy themselves on the Himalayan balsam. As a beekeeper with 'short arms and deep pockets', this suits me just fine {{1}}. My winter feeding is almost complete and most colonies have only needed half a block of fondant. The large pile of unopened blocks are securely tucked away in long-term storage for next season (or later), with a few retained for late winter/early spring top-ups if colonies feel light. I'm gradually ticking off the tasks on the 'to do' list in preparation for the winter ahead. There are still too many wasps around to use the steam wax extractor (unless I want to do this in the dark, or — even less likely — after wine o'clock. Er, thanks but no, thanks.), or to have a bonfire of old frames {{2}}, but as soon as the first frosts arrive I'll be _'on it'_. Once that's done, the boxes currently occupied by those frames will be empty, so can be stacked up and strapped up for the winter ahead. As I've previously noted, this part of the Scottish Borders is very windy, and anything not secured soon disappears over the fields. But all those tasks will be done to a different soundtrack … no more twittering swallows, or the incessant disyllabic calls of chiffchaffs, or the ratchet-like reeling of grasshopper warblers. Instead, there are skeins of honking geese high overhead, flying in from Iceland or Greenland, and wheeling flocks of golden plover down from the high hills with their haunting plaintive whistling calls. The recently planted fields by the house now have a 'fuzz' of new, bright green {{3}}, growth. It looks like winter wheat, which is mildly disappointing as I was hoping for ~80 acres of oil seed rape 😄. ### Failing to prepare and preparing to fail Over the next few weeks and months my beekeeping will be largely restricted to retrospective analysis of the season just gone, and planning for the season ahead. Yes, there will be a few visits to the apiaries to check for fallen trees, upturned or underweight hives, or for fence repairs and hedge trimming. However, in terms of what I consider to be the more _enjoyable_ bits of beekeeping — managing colonies, queen rearing, working with the bees — it'll all be in my head. ~~Along with the voices 😉.~~ Of course, some beekeepers will give no thought to their bees between now and mid-April. Once the honey is taken off they 'disengage' (assuming they were ever engaged in the first place). They might treat for Varroa … or they might not. Hives are left overwinter with no mouseguards, or (_Yikes!_) with queen excluders and supers still _in situ_. Some colonies may not even be fed. Next season will start in the same way as the season just finishing. Little or no preparation, with no clue why things worked or did not work, and no idea until that fateful day in mid-April whether the bees survived or not. If they did survive, the beekeeper will be reassured that their _'hands off/tough love'_ approach to the discipline works, and see no reason to change. Bees are remarkably resilient, and they can survive a surprising amount of neglect. However, that doesn't mean that's the best way to manage colonies. ****Why not sponsor The Apiarist?**** Sponsors of __The Apiarist__ receive a newsletter on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping __every__ week, at least 50% of which are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship supports my research and writing, and costs about the same as a coffee and doughnut a month, or less annually … go on, you know it makes sense. Become a sponsor ### Quantifying success Compare that 'disengaged' beekeeper to someone — let's call them the 'engaged' beekeeper — who tries to work out what happened when things go wrong, or (perhaps more rarely) to understand why other things have been such a success. I'd argue that there are a couple of ways to easily determine which is the more successful approach, and one way that is far less easy to quantify … but much more important. 1. **Colony losses** , particularly overwinter. These are distressingly high when reported in national association surveys (25–35% in some seasons), but often remarkably low when I discuss them with some 'engaged' beekeepers I know (routinely under 10%, and, not-unusually, zero). If you assume that the truly 'disengaged' beekeeper is unlikely to belong to an association, or fill in surveys, then I think it's also likely that their losses are at least as high as the worst headline figures reported. 2. **Honey yields**. Inevitably these vary depending upon location and season. However, well-managed colonies can produce a lot of honey in a good season. Steve Donohoe (_aka_ The Walrus) reports an average of 44 kg per production colony this year, and a lumbago-inducing 149 kg per colony for Paul Horton. My figures are close to Steve's. For comparison, the Scottish Beekeepers Association 2025 survey reports an average honey yield per colony of 9.6 kg {{4}}. The 2026 figures have yet to be published. And what about those 'disengaged' beekeepers? Who knows? 3. **Satisfaction** of doing something well, and understanding it. The first two are simple numbers, both of which could be converted — directly or indirectly — into £££ (if you wanted). Hives and honey are both valuable. The last is priceless. Which, in a roundabout way, brings me to my notable ~~failure~~ absence of success this season; queen mating, and the start of this winter's attempts to understand it better. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

If you started beekeeping this year, you'll probably still be acutely aware of how much the essential equipment and accessories cost. Of course, the 'essentials' vary depending upon who defines them. Ask an experienced beekeeper and the list will be rather modest … a hive, extra supers, hive tool, smoker, beesuit _etc._ It's likely that the beekeeper will _assume_ you'll enjoy the hobby, so may want to expand the number of hives you manage in the future. Based upon their own experience, they'll probably also expect you are embarking on a pastime that you will _still_ be enjoying in 30 years time. Therefore, they will stress the importance of _compatibility,_ and the likely _longevity_ of the items you purchase. Alternatively, if you made your choices from the _'must have'_ items listed in the suppliers catalogues, you'll probably be on the way to the bankruptcy courts. New-fangled hive designs, multipurpose tools, and 'optimised' _something-or-anothers_ will have featured on your shopping list. Or _lists_. It's unlikely you'll have purchased everything you needed from a single source, and you may well have run out of some things during the season. Supers are a perfect example. Most 'starter hives' are supplied with one or two, but (in a good season) you might need five. _“Been there, bought the T-shirt”_ , as they say. ## Growing old together Whatever you've ended up with, the bare essentials, or a warehouse-full of stuff, you'll probably still be using the same equipment in three decades {{1}}. That's because the majority of beekeeping equipment, if looked after reasonably well, lasts for years. 'Reasonably well' does _not_ mean mollycoddled, or treated gently all the time. Beekeeping is a very physical occupation. Lots of prising, lifting, and carrying. Hives don't 'wear out'. They're designed to sit out in the elements all the time, withstanding the ravages of the sun and the rain. Cedar boxes need no additional protection, but polystyrene hives _must_ be painted to make them UV resistant. Warped, and possibly beyond repair 😞. A few cedar boxes might become sufficiently warped that they are no longer 'beetight'. However, this is relatively rare {{2}} and can usually be avoided by constructing them carefully in the first place. Ensure they are built square — ideally on a template — using glue and screws to hold everything together. I'm still using the cedar hives I started with almost twenty years ago, and they were secondhand when I purchased them {{3}}. Most of my poly equipment is well over a decade old, dating back to the time I expanded from half a dozen hives to ~25. Painted poly is impervious to just about everything. Indeed, one of the complaints is that it is an environmentally unfriendly material that cannot be recycled. ## Avoiding the landfill _'Just about everything'_ , by definition, has exclusions … I can think of three that have affected me: * Wasps * Mice * Gravity If I lived in Canada I might have to also include bears on this list, but I can only write about things I have experience of. Over the last few weeks, as I start to tidy things up for the coming winter, I've repaired a few poly boxes damaged by wasps, mice, or gravity. I expect these boxes will be usable for many more years, and are likely to outlast my beekeeping … and probably me. I thought I'd therefore write about repairing poly boxes this week. Since this barely justifies a thousand words, let alone my usual 23,664, I'll expand the topic to include a couple of other things I've either fixed or improved recently. The autumn is a good time to deal with these repairs. It's still warm enough to work outside, there's no real practical beekeeping you should be doing, and — if forgotten or avoided — you'll kick yourself next April when you actually need the equipment. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. It's thanks to sponsors (the paying subscribers) that the lights remain on, and the servers are maintained … without them __The Apiarist__ could not appear every week. Why not join them? Sign up as a sponsor ### Build it, don't buy it If your preferred hobby is racing J-class yachts then the expense involved in buying a couple of WBC hives, a beesuit, and a smoker probably isn't a worry. However, for the rest of us, the relatively high cost of equipment — particularly in the first few years — means that it makes sense to build things if you can. I've written numerous articles here about DIY for beekeeping, so won't repeat myself. _This_ equipment also sometimes needs to be repaired, and that provides an opportunity to _improve_ the original design (or marvel at your prescience in getting it right first time 😉). I'll deal with the poly damage in the reverse order to the list above, and will then discuss repairs and/or improvements to two of my 'homegrown' beekeeping _essentials_ … my hivebarrow and an _'unwobbler'_ for my extractor. Like the poly hives, these have been used pretty hard for a decade or more, and have recently benefitted from some TLC. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

It's as if a switch has been flicked. A month ago I was sweating profusely while heaving the weighty supers from the hives, stacking them in the shed, and subsequently extracting bucket after bucket (after bucket 😄) of sparkling, golden honey. In between times, I was replacing the pilfered stores with heavy blocks of fondant, uniting colonies, and moving nucs from their summer quarters to sheltered apiaries for the winter. It was a lot of backbreaking work, but I was accompanied by the constant _mewing_ of dispersing buzzard families, the now-mute warblers in the hedgerows, and the swallows constantly flitting about overhead. When I stopped for a breather, there was always something to distract me from the _'hard graft'_. The weather was still warm — it still felt like summer — and the foragers (at least those lucky enough to be within range) were absorbed with the Himalayan balsam along the river. But, in a few short weeks, that's all changed. All the resident swallows and martins have gone, and those still overhead — as singletons or small groups — are just passing through, resolutely moving southwards for the winter. I get the impression that the adults leave first, with the young of the year — those lacking outer tail streamers — following along later. The stubble has also gone. In the last fortnight the field in front of the house has been ploughed, harrowed, fertilised, sown, and rolled. There's been a constant procession of expensive machinery trundling past, followed by its undulating cloud of gulls, crows, and buzzards. The deer and hares that crept out into the stubble every evening now skulk in the field margins … and will stay there until the new growth appears. The hives are appreciably quieter now, with activity restricted to the warmer parts of the day, as both the conditions for foraging and the forage that is available deteriorate. Although the beekeeping season still hasn't formally finished, it's clearly _finishing_ … and I, for one, am quite relieved. ## Too much of a good thing If you have any more than a few hives, and particularly if you get involved in more intensive activities like queen rearing, beekeeping means you are busy for most of the summer months. There's always something to do, or in my case, something I _forgot_ to do that I must make a note to _actually_ do next time I'm in the apiary. Nucs to feed, frames to build, queens to mark, supers to add, hives to unite, laying workers to curse, and the million and one minor tasks involved in our hobby. These provide both a physical and intellectual challenge, and what make beekeeping so engrossing. But it's unrelenting. Miss an inspection, or a queen cell, and things can quickly spiral out of control. The situation is usually recoverable — and I can't stress enough how much clipping your queens helps — but, if you're anything like me, the errors and the bodged 'fixes' increment as the season progresses. Not every hive, and not even in every apiary, but enough to make me grateful for the enforced halt to proceedings precipitated by the end of the summer nectar and the falling temperatures. It's about now that real beekeepers go on holiday. If they've been fed and treated, the bees won't miss you. It's still hot enough on the continent to swim in the ocean, get a tan, or sit in the shade with a cold beer. My life is a holiday, so I'm not disappearing abroad … instead, I'm already making preparations for the season ahead 😉. Or, so far, a _single_ preparation … the fondant I ordered last Friday was delivered first thing on Monday morning {{1}}. My back, still twingeing from moving supers, was tested to near-destruction shifting the boxes to long-term storage. In the interests of giving my back a rest, and with all colonies now busy chomping down their fondant, I've concentrated on catching up with some beekeeping news and background reading. Let's deal with the bad news first … ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

_Regular readers_ , and those who have taken the time to rummage through the archives, will know I'm a big fan of using fondant for all my autumn and winter feeding. It's something I've been doing for over 15 years, and — except for feeding of colonies when queen rearing or mating {{1}} — it's the _only_ way I feed sugar to my bees at _any_ time of the year. However, in looking back though the cobwebby archives I realise that the information is rather diffusely spread. I've regularly discussed _'opening a block of fondant over the hive and leaving them to get on with things'_ , but have less frequently mentioned nucleus colonies or mini-nucs. Even more rarely have I acknowledged the small number of (minor) _problems_ that may occur when feeding fondant, and how to avoid them. Early September {{2}} seemed like a good time to prepare a comprehensive post on feeding fondant, covering the why, how and when of the topic, and addressing some _'edge cases'_ (as someone debugging a computer program would call them) which are unusual, and typically involve things going awry. Don't worry, none of these are sufficiently problematic to alter my opinion that feeding fondant is almost always the best way to feed colonies. In this post I'll ~~briefly~~ discuss the benefits of feeding fondant instead of syrup (or honey 😱), and sourcing the fondant. I've outlined the benefits of fondant relatively recently in _'Preparing for winter'_ , but have updated and expanded them here with additional information. Preparing for winterWinter preparations should start during late-summer colony checks. With thorough preparation, the right colonies, low levels of pathogens and ample stores, losses should be very low, giving you — and the bees — a flying start the following spring.The ApiaristDavid (The Apiarist) Access to this post requires a paid subscription to __The Apiarist.__ The post is 3000+ words long, and took several hours to write and illustrate. None of it is AI-generated 'slop'. Paying subscribers (sponsors) keep the lights on here, they keep the servers backed up, and they pay for the coffee I drink when writing. A paid subscription costs about the same as a large cappuccino a month, or less annually, and gives you access to an archive of ~700 posts, a new article every Friday, and irregular __Beemusings__ posts. Become a paid subscriber The rest of the post will focus on the practicalities of using fondant. Where to buy it, how to prepare it, adding it to the hive or nucs, and when and how to remove any 'leftovers' (as well as what to do with them). I then close by describing some (always minor) problems I've encountered using fondant, and ways that they can be avoided or resolved. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

_Did the miticide treatment work?_ A simple enough question, but not one that's straightforward to answer. What is meant by work? Does it mean _'kill mites'_ , or does it mean _'prevent the overwinter loss of the colony'_? The latter involves the former, but the former does not guarantee the latter. ## How can something work, but not work? You can kill easily _thousands_ of mites in a heavily infested colony, but the colony will still perish if the mites were killed _too late_ in the season to benefit the bees. For example, if you add Apivar strips to a previously untreated colony in early November you'll often see a distressingly high number of dead mites fall through the open mesh floor (OMF) {{1}}. I've seen colonies where I could use a finger to trace patterns through the countless mites that accumulated on the _Varroa_ tray within 48 hours of applying the strips. My research students refused to count a mite drop of more than 2,500 mites _per day_ , simply recording the colony as +++. We even tried _weighing_ the piles of mites rather than counting them {{2}}. These colonies almost always perished during the winter {{3}}. ****Why not become a sponsor?**** This post is for sponsors only. Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, ~50% of which are __only__ for sponsors. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … or less for an annual membership. Become a sponsor This is an example of the miticide treatment working (_i.e._ it killed mites), but — paradoxically — not working (_i.e._ the colony died). In contrast, conduct a shook swarm on a heavily infested colony in July, and treat the resulting _broodless_ population with a miticide. You may again see a very high mite drop if the colony is heavily infested, but they will almost certainly survive the subsequent winter with no further treatment {{4}}. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

_“This is the way the season ends, not with a bang but a whimper”_ , with apologies to T.S. Eliot {{1}}. A few weeks ago I felt I was struggling to keep up, now I'm looking for things to do. Well … almost 😉. Beekeeping is a seasonal activity. In my part of the world, I'm busy from early April until late August. In some seasons things start early, bringing March into play. In others — like this year — they end prematurely. The prolonged drought conditions that prevailed during the summer brought forward the flowering of many sources of forage, and simultaneously put paid to any chances of a good crop from the late-season heather. As a consequence, the summer honey supers were filled by late July, and removed in the first days of August. This is almost a full month earlier than last year, which (admittedly) was later than usual as the farmer planted a big field of late-season _Phacelia_ which was too tempting to ignore. Two photographs of a field of __Phacelia__ taken 11 days apart (on the 8th and 19th of July). This year, the _Phacelia_ was spectacular in early July, but largely over by the third week of the month. Inevitably, I delayed taking the supers off in the hope that the bees might do something useful with the rosebay willow herb, but I needn't have bothered. The supers came off a week or so later {{2}}. In a 'normal' season (_i.e._ one involving rain) I'd then expect a couple of days of frantic preparation before taking the bees to the heather. However, a reconnaissance trip showed the moors were parched and brown, with barely a trace of purple. After a day or two of _“Will I? Won't I?”_ , I decided to not bother this year {{3}}. About 50% of content on __The Apiarist__ is for the paying 'sponsors' of the site who ensure the lights stay on, the servers are backed up, and my coffee machine continues bubbling away while I write. Without sponsors, the coffee would not exist, and nor would the site. If you're not a sponsor, you're probably missing the best bits 😉. Sign up as a sponsor The majority of colonies were given fondant and Apivar, and left to get on with things … leaving me just a few odds and ends to deal with. Primarily these were colonies where the queen status was unknown … either large colonies I'd requeened, or that appeared to be superseding, or queens in mating nucs that I was waiting to start laying. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

The Plain English Campaign promote (not unsurprisingly) the use of plain English {{1}}, and have campaigned against _“gobbledygook, jargon and misleading public information”_ since 1979. Their website has several (clearly written 😉) guides to using plain English; using shorter or simpler words where possible, avoiding overly-long sentences, preferring active sentences over passive, effective use of lists, and avoiding jargon. Anything that makes written English more accessible — particularly when clarity and a lack of ambiguity is essential — is commendable. The Plain English Campaign website has a statement on AI, but they don't have an AI-based _'convert my confused scribblings into plain English'_ web application, which feels like a missed opportunity {{2}}. I hate to think what they'd make of _The Apiarist_ … thankfully, the absence of a web application means I'll remain blissfully ignorant. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor ## Instructions for use The Plain English Campaign offer several forms of accreditation, and list many government and statutory organisations that have been awarded a Crystal Mark _'seal of approval for the clarity of printed or online documents'_. The Veterinary Medicines Directorate (VMD), who oversee the licensing and approval of veterinary medicines in the UK, are not listed {{3}}. Having read the documentation provided with licensed miticides, I think I understand why. Whilst it would be hypocrisy of me to criticise poor English, I'm a practising beekeeper and I have a reasonable working knowledge of current miticides. I've long-thought that the instructions that accompany miticides, and define how they should be used are, at best, disappointing. At worst, some are barely fit for purpose. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Like anglers, beekeepers often obsess about the weather. They both need something to blame when things go less well than they had hoped. How many times have you heard _“too little rain, no nectar”_ or _“too hot, they weren't biting”_? Or, to give them the benefit of the doubt, this ~~compulsion~~ healthy concern simply reflects the influence of the weather on their hobby. I was reminded of this at 7 am today when I listened to the weather forecast … there's another _'heatwave'_ on the way, but overnight temperatures will be _'feeling a little fresher'_. My first thoughts weren't about nectar or fish, they were about the impact these temperatures have on _Varroa_ control using thymol-containing miticides {{1}}. These products include Apiguard (in the UK and US), Thymovar and Apilife Var {{2}}. For very good reasons — relatively inexpensive, no evidence of resistance, natural and organic, no wax-soluble residues, ease of administration — these are popular treatments. However, many beekeepers do not appreciate the impact the temperature has on their use, or the best way to maximise their miticidal activity. This post is for paying sponsors only. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. Don't trust those AI-generated advertising sites containing an illogical selection of contradictory beekeeping advice … and, at the same time, help ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor So, in late summer, to avoid having to complain that it's _“too hot, the queen has stopped laying”_ , or _“too cold, the miticide won't be working”_ here's my explanation of how thymol-containing treatments work, when they work (and when/why they don't), and how to ensure they work effectively. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

The solution to what? The solution to the three-part problem that increasingly faces beekeepers wanting to minimise _Varroa_ mite populations _and_ reduce their winter colony losses. These are: * Increasing resistance — and the geographic spread of this resistance — to the 'hard chemical' miticides like Apivar and Apistan {{1}}. * The inability of oxalic acid (OA) to penetrate the cap on sealed brood. * The absence of a midwinter brood break in many temperate regions, something which will be exacerbated as the climate continues to warm. In fact, there may be a fourth part to the problem, the desire of beekeepers to avoid the use of hard chemicals altogether (due both to resistance and the wax-soluble residues they leave behind) in favour of organic treatments. In the absence of _Varroa_ -resistant colonies, at least two annual miticide treatments are typically required: 1. A late summer treatment, applied after the honey harvest and (ideally) before the production of the long-lived winter bees that will maintain the colony until the following spring. 2. A midwinter treatment to 'mop up' any mites that survived the late summer miticide, and/or that subsequently managed to reproduce in the small amounts of brood reared in the latter months of the year. I discuss these, and the importance of timing things correctly, in Rational Varroa Control. For comparison, I've also previously written about what happens when you use Irrational Varroa Control, applying an inappropriate treatment, at the wrong time, and in the wrong way … _don't do this at home (or in the apiary)_. ## The more, the merrier? I use two treatments a year, but it's not unusual for beekeepers to use different strategies that suit their bees and beekeeping _e.g._ an application before the spring nectar flow, or in midsummer for colonies going to the heather. These may be in addition, or instead of, a late summer and midwinter treatment. I know of some beekeepers who use four applications a year, and this may become increasingly common as miticide resistance becomes more widespread. The problem with additional applications is that they have to be squeezed in between the main nectar flows (as there are no treatments allowed when there are honey supers on the hive {{2}}). Depending upon where you live, this can prove unachievable … at least if you follow the instructions to the letter on the miticide packaging. For example, the gap between spring and summer nectars is too brief (2–3 weeks) for an application of Apivar or Apistan. During this period the colony will contain lots of brood, making OA ineffective. The best option might be formic acid (and there's just about enough time to complete an application most years) though you risk queen losses, particularly if the weather is hot. FormicPro … the only miticide that kills mites within capped cells. Not least because I'm so poor at predicting when the nectar flows are {{3}} I've stuck to a two application strategy (late summer and 'midwinter' {{4}}) for 10+ years which has worked very well, with winter losses of ~5% over that period. ### Forewarned is forearmed I want to avoid additional treatments, but I also want to be prepared when Apivar-resistance eventually arrives in the UK {{5}}. In addition, I'm acutely aware of the importance of the timing of the 'midwinter' treatment, and the difficulty many beekeepers have in getting it right. Since OA does not penetrate sealed cells, the colony _must_ be broodless for this treatment to be effective. In my experience, _'broodlessness'_ and _'midwinter'_ rarely occur at the same time, discussion of which is complicated by the absence of a precise definition of midwinter. Does it mean midway between the start and end of winter, or the coldest part of the winter? If it means _either_ of these, then it's _almost certainly_ not the appropriate time for OA treatment. In my experience, a broodless period — **if it occurs at all** — happens in very late autumn, or early winter. At my latitude (55° N), I expect my colonies to be broodless sometime in November {{6}}. But it's not guaranteed. And, with climate change, these broodless periods will shorten and/or disappear altogether. Which is why I've followed with interest the development, licensing and use of slow-release OA strips. ## Slow- or extended-release OA strips The principle is straightforward. OA kills mites by direct contact. Absorbent strips are soaked in a solution of OA and placed in the hive. Typically, the strips are cellulose, the OA solution is prepared in glycerine, and the strips are either hung between, or laid across the tops of, the frames. Bees moving around the hive contact the strips, and the OA kills any phoretic mites. As new brood emerges, any mites initially present within capped cells transition to the phoretic phase of their life cycle … hopefully to subsequently perish when they are exposed to OA. The OA is released over a protracted period — the strips remain in place for 42–56 days, covering at least two brood cycles — and published studies have claimed that treatment is temperature-independent. VarroxSan (photo Vita-Europe) VarroxSan is a commercially-available slow-release OA product from Vita. Studies indicate that VarroxSan kills ~95% of mites, a similar level to that achievable with other effective miticides. When I first discussed it, it was only licensed in the US and Uruguay. It appears now to also be available in Canada {{7}}. Considering the problems in predicting the winter broodless period and the need to _mix'n'match_ treatments to minimise resistance, perhaps using slow-release OA strips in winter would be an effective strategy to follow a late-summer Apivar treatment? A recent study has tested exactly this scenario where a commercial beekeeper had experienced increasing Apivar resistance. Two formulations of slow-release OA strips were tested during the winter, and mite levels, colony strength and survival were monitored. The results, which I found surprising, are relevant to beekeepers where a winter broodless period is not guaranteed. This post is for paying sponsors only. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and their support ensures __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor I'll discuss the results and what I think they mean for practical _Varroa_ management — both with Apivar and OA — and introduce an interesting resource which could help beekeepers identify likely broodless periods in their own colonies. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Everything you wanted to know about honey supers but were afraid to ask. Or, more accurately, everything I can think of about using honey supers … partly because it came up in conversation a couple of times this week, and because it's timely with the summer nectar flows nearing completion. Inevitably this is going to reflect the way I use and manage my honey supers, rather than being an unbiased overview covering every eventuality. Some things will be omitted altogether _e.g._ cut comb and sections, because I don't have enough experience of what works and what does not. I'm going to restrict my discussion to the use of supers for nectar storage and honey production, so nothing here about brood and a half {{1}}, queen banking, or using super frames in the brood box. On certain topics I'll be dogmatic. This either indicates I've tried alternatives and know from experience what a terrible option they are. Alternatively — and perhaps more likely — I've _thought_ about the alternatives and can see no justification for why they'd be better, so I stick to what I _know_ works. ****Why not become a sponsor?**** Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, ~50% of which are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … or less for an annual membership. Become a sponsor However, as with everything to do with beekeeping, there's more than one way to do it, so if you have any 'top tips' please add them to the comments. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

It's turning out to be a bonanza summer for beekeeping. The third heatwave has conveniently coincided with the flowering of acres and acres of _Phacelia_ , and the colonies are furiously piling in the nectar. Actually, that's not quite accurate … there's nothing _furious_ about it. Even colonies that have previously been a bit temperamental are decidedly 'mellow' thanks to the consistently good weather and ample nectar. Instead, they are single-mindedly filling the supers, and studiously ignoring my occasional meddling. If you are also experiencing these conditions, and this is your first season of beekeeping, _do not_ assume it's always like this 😉. It's not even unbearably hot here in the Scottish Borders, particularly as I try to do my 'bee work' early or late in the day. In another 3 weeks or so it'll all be over (other than the heather which will just be starting) and I'll know whether it's been a record season in terms of honey yield per colony {{1}}. As I mentioned a fortnight ago, it's about now that I start making decisions about which stocks to keep, and which to unite. This post is about positive and negative selection strategies to improve your bees. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

How often have you read the words, _“Varroa is the greatest threat to bees and beekeeping”_? If you're a _regular reader_ of _The Apiarist_ then you've read it here, many times. It's true … up to a point. However, it's really a convenient abbreviation for a much more wordy explanation of the _real_ threat to bees and beekeeping. _Varroa_ _alone_ is not an issue, in much the same way as a mosquito is not really harmful. It's the viruses that the mite or the mozzie transmits that do the damage. A mosquito bite might be painful, or cause a local immune response {{1}}, but it's only if the mosquito carries dengue or yellow fever virus you're likely to be very unwell {{2}}. ## DWV In the case of honey bees, it's deformed wing virus (henceforth DWV, for obvious reasons) that is the most significant virus transmitted by _Varroa_. DWV is ubiquitous, at least as far as honey bees are concerned. There are detectable levels of DWV in all honey bees, including those in regions (such as Colonsay) where _Varroa_ has never been present. In the absence of _Varroa_ , DWV causes no overt disease, and no apparent problems for either individual bees, or for the colony {{3}}. In _Varroa_ -free colonies DWV is transmitted horizontally during trophallaxis, and vertically (via eggs and sperm) from the queen/drones to the progeny. Under these conditions, DWV levels — the _amount_ of virus per bee — are usually very low. If _Varroa_ is present, these transmission routes remain functioning in the background. However, when the mite feeds on a developing pupa, it transmits DWV from the last pupa (or adult) bee it fed on. This transmission route bypasses the usual immune mechanisms that protect the bee (scientists recapitulate this route by simply injecting virus using a syringe). As a consequence, the virus replicates more, and reaches tissues it would otherwise not have access to … where it causes damage. Virus levels are much higher … perhaps 1–10 million times _higher_ in some pupae {{4}}. This typically results in one of three possible outcomes: 1. The developing pupa dies pre-emergence. 2. Developmental defects occur, such as the _'does what it says on the tin'_ wing deformities {{5}}. The bee emerges, but is unable to contribute to hive activities and is soon chucked out of the entrance where it inevitably perishes. 3. The worker {{6}} _appears_ developmentally normal, but is nevertheless severely compromised. Amongst other things, they have impaired learning abilities, lousy communication, poor foraging skills, and — at least in the case of winter bees — a much-reduced lifespan. And it's the last outcome that accounts for high colony losses. If the numbers of winter bees are significantly depleted before the queen is laying well the following spring, the colony will perish. Recently emerged workers showing the classic symptoms of DWV infection. So _“Varroa is the greatest threat to beekeeping”_ is both true and false. It's the viruses that _Varroa_ transmits that are the real threat, but _only_ when the mite transmits them. ## Self-amplifying science Scientific research has a tendency to be self-amplifying. In the case of viruses, those that cause the most significant disease are often identified first (DWV was identified in 1982 by Brenda Ball and Bill Bailey {{7}}), resulting in follow-up studies that reinforce their importance. Experimental systems — such as methods to grow or quantify the virus — are developed that make studying the virus a little easier, which facilitates additional studies. More ambitious experiments follow, with additional controls to demonstrate the significance of the results. And, to ensure continued funding, the science is published. With more funding secured, the cycle starts again. At the same time, _other_ research teams start to work on related aspects of the same problem. After all, its important, just look at all the money being spent and publications arising Inevitably, some results obtained are contradictory … they suggest prior work was incorrect, or misinterpreted {{8}}, or over-interpreted. Other work provides novel insights and justifies further research. This isn't a bad thing, it's scientific progress. Over time, our _understanding_ (which is what is really important) of the biology of honey bees, mites, and viruses increases. However, it's _'two steps forward, one step back'_ progress … incremental advances, with lots of back-tracking, repetition and revision. This knowledge, coupled with empirical beekeeping experience, is what informs our hive _management_ practices … _e.g._ when and how to minimise _Varroa_ levels. Having spent part of my career studying DWV {{9}}, I still keep up with the literature. There have been a recent flurry of DWV/_Varroa_ papers. These nicely illustrate some of this spectrum of scientific contributions — the novel, the over-interpreted _etc._ I've had a few emails from _regular readers_ about a couple of them, so thought I'd expand on my emailed responses here, rather than repeating myself in the future. I'll let you decide whether they are interesting, wrong, misinterpreted or truly novel, but I will comment on their relevance to practical beekeeping as the viruses I'm discussing are probably present in all your colonies. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Heatwave 2.0 has been and gone, Prime Minister 9.0 appears to have been (amicably?) decided {{1}}, and the newspapers have instead reverted to saturation coverage of the 'soccer' World Cup. In the hope of also attracting some errant Google search activity I've used a sporting term for the title of the post, though it was primarily chosen to reflect the stage we've reached in the beekeeping season. The June gap has closed again. It wasn't very protracted, and most colonies continued to find bits and pieces to forage on. The only ones that needed feeding were mini-nucs and my queenright cell raiser. The former because the foraging workforce is simply too small, and the latter because _any_ break in nutrition — at least during the ~5 days between grafting and the new cells being sealed — is likely to result in sub-par queens. Flowering blackberry, Ardnamurchan, early July 2023 The blackberry is now flowering well, and it's probably the start of the main summer nectar flows. I say 'probably' because this is only my second full season in the Scottish Borders {{2}}, last year was far from typical, and so I don't have a lot to go on. At least, I hope it was atypical, because the 2025 summer yielded little honey 😞. This time last year the supers on my colonies next to 25 acres of brightly flowering _Phacelia_ remained echoingly empty. The crop flowered from late-June for about a month. It yielded nothing. In contrast, a few weeks later after a bit of summer rain, some late-sown _Phacelia_ near another apiary produced a reasonable crop in late-August, but those supers didn't come off until early September. This causes two issues; it overlaps (completely) with the heather, and it's getting late in the year to apply miticides to protect the developing winter bees. If you want to avoid the AI 'slop' that increasingly contaminates beekeeping websites then please consider supporting __The Apiarist__. Sponsors ensure the continued existence of the site, and receive regular sponsor-only content. Claude is super-polite, but struggles to mark queens or find day-old larvae, so why trust its (his?) judgement when seeking information or entertainment on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping? Yes please … sign me up as a sponsor ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

_“What's the greatest inconvenience for experienced beekeepers?”_. If I were to ask this question I'd expect a lot of different answers; cheap supermarket (p)honey, the fubar'd differential on the Landy, the daft licensing restrictions on Api-Bioxal, and incessant spousal nagging about propolis on the sofa. What? Me? However, if I asked _enough_ beekeepers I'd wager that some of the most 'popular' responses would be about poor queen mating and laying workers. These topics are (tenuously) related. _'Poor queen mating'_ includes the loss of the queen on her nuptial flights. This inevitably renders the colony queenless, quite possibly terminally {{1}}. Unless the beekeeper is _'on the ball'_ {{2}} the colony will go on to develop laying workers. Poor queen mating occurs for a multitude of other reasons as well … lousy weather, insufficient drones, low fertility drones (or queens), house martens _etc._ For this reason it's a rather tricky topic to discuss definitively. Instead, I'm going to focus on the other inconvenience … laying workers, not least because I've just shaken out _yet another_ colony that developed them after a queen failed to return from a mating flight {{3}}. ℹ️ Laying workers are adult unmated female workers that lay unfertilised eggs. These develop as drones, and are often reared in worker comb, which wrecks it. Colonies with laying workers cannot be requeened, and take time and resources (brood from elsewhere) to fix. And this doesn't always work. The title of this post sums up my views of laying workers. I consider them a curse. Once laying workers develop, without intervention, the colony is _always_ doomed. With intervention, the colony may _still_ be doomed … but the demise of the colony is a long, drawn out affair that wastes valuable resources taken from other hives. On which, more shortly. If you want to avoid the AI 'slop' that increasingly contaminates beekeeping websites then please consider supporting __The Apiarist__. Sponsors ensure the continued existence of the site, and receive regular sponsor-only content. ChatGPT (or his more polite cousin, Claude) has never opened a hive or marked a queen, so why trust its judgement when seeking information or entertainment on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping? Yes please … sign me up as a sponsor ## Laying workers and rebel workers … the same, but very different What are laying workers, why do they occur, and what works (and does not work) in dealing with them? The biology of laying workers is fascinating. Whilst beekeepers have been aware of them for centuries {{4}}, recent research has demonstrated that there are actually _two_ types of laying workers that arise under different conditions. 1. 'Classic' **laying workers** are _adult female workers_ that activate their ovaries after queen loss. The absence of queen mandibular pheromone (QMP), and pheromone produced from open brood, results in ovary activation, and this happens in predominantly younger adult bees. These laying workers have _better_ developed hypopharyngeal glands (HPG), so resemble nurse bees rather than foragers. These laying workers develop in response to environmental change (the loss of the queen) as _adults_. 2. **Rebel workers** are egg-laying workers that arise in response to an absence of QMP during _development_. These conditions occur when a colony swarms, leaving eggs and open brood in a colony that is queenless. QMP levels (usually spread through trophallaxis) drop precipitously, and some worker larvae develop in a more 'queen-like' state. The resulting workers have better developed ovarioles and mandibular glands (_i.e._ queen-like, rather than worker-like), but _underdeveloped_ hypopharyngeal glands. Although rebel workers can also only lay unfertilised eggs, they have a higher reproductive potential (_i.e._ they lay more eggs) than classic laying workers; they have more ovarioles and their ovaries are activated to a greater extent. They also exhibit behavioural differences which I'll discuss later. Rebel workers are considered a _distinct sub-caste_ of honey bees. ℹ️ I'm going to use the abbreviation LW to indicate laying workers of __both__ types, but 'laying workers' or 'rebel workers' to indicate the __specific__ type where I need to distinguish between them. Although they arise via different mechanisms, in terms of practical beekeeping, their impact on the hive (and how to deal with them) are broadly similar … and I'll get to those in due course. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

I've just reached the _'and breathe …'_ part of my season. This is the period between spring expansion and summer consolidation. It's the time when I realise I _am_ more-or-less in control of things after all, contrary to all the evidence a fortnight ago. Colonies are at or near maximum strength. The urge to swarm has been controlled, contained, coerced … or belatedly overlooked with a resigned shrug. Hopefully, rather more of the former than the latter. Apiaries are busy with a mix of production colonies (somewhat less tall now the honey supers are off), splits containing queens being saved 'just in case', and lots of nucs with virgin queens waiting for good weather for mating. The apiary in early June I've almost certainly run out of something or other — supers, clearers, feeders, or frames — but managed to sidestep calamity using a combination of _“that'll do botchery”_ , borrowing and last-minute _'plus P &P'_ purchases. Hopefully, rather more of the former than the latter. After a rewarding but always-frantic four to six-week period, the spring nectar sources largely stop yielding, and what passes for serenity (in my apiaries) arrives. At least, that's what it feels like to me. Your-mileage-may-vary (YMMV) … these things are influenced by the climate, the weather and the local environment. ## Local bees and local beekeeping When I lived on the remote west coast there were no 'artificial/agricultural' nectar sources. Colony build-up was slow, and nothing significant happened before the end of June or early July. Queen rearing in May was almost unheard of {{1}}, and many colonies never made swarm preparations, but unfussily replaced their queens by supersedure in August or September. However, the majority of my beekeeping — in the Midlands, Fife and (now) the Scottish Borders — has been in rich agricultural areas, with the _'boom and bust'_ availability of nectar, particularly oil seed rape (OSR) {{2}}, determined by soil/climate suitability, demand and current subsidies. __“Hectares of dazzling yellow, nectar-rich, OSR”__ (early-May 2026) In these areas, while the willow and gorse _start_ the colonies off in the spring, the hectares of dazzling yellow, nectar-rich, OSR flowers in April and May are the dominant influence on colony development. And, once the OSR goes over, everything pretty much grinds to a halt if there are no alternate sources of nectar available. This is the 'June gap', and the impact it has depends upon your location and your bees. ## Touchy, touchy One thing you may notice is that colonies become (more) bad-tempered. I retrospectively inserted 'more' to remind you of the colonies that you really should be in the process of requeening because you've _already_ identified their temperament is ~~homicidal~~ less virtuous than it should be. All my colonies were within reach of OSR during May, though some were closer and worked it almost exclusively. Now the OSR has finished, all seem a little more resentful of my _'frame-fumbling'_ , though none have disgraced themselves sufficiently to end up in the 'naughty corner' or, worse, under special measures. However, I have acquired a queenright nuc from a colony of _absolute monsters_. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

In terms of good beekeeping advice, Ted Hooper's book (_Guide to Bees and Honey_) takes some beating. It was first published almost three decades ago. My copy, the fourth edition, dates back to 2008. The illustrations (line drawings, or B&W images) make it look dated, but the text remains relevant and is better than many of the 'up-to-date' publications. My copy is well-thumbed, has been read cover-to-cover several times, and is still regularly used to check some detail I've either forgotten, or (more likely) never knew in the first place. Most recently, I was looking up Hooper's advice on choosing which queen cells to keep and which to cull. I still remember being amazed when I first read this section, as he describes opening and resealing a cell to check it's occupied: > _If you wish, you can gently open up a flap on its side towards the base [and] take a look at the queen pupa and then push the flap back and carefully repair the cut._ I've never done this, at least not successfully {{1}}. Hooper favoured heavily sculpted cells because he considered those with smooth walls indicated that there was _“usually something wrong with [the developing pupa]”_. That's one interpretation … but I can think of several others. I've always had the impression that cells become more sculpted over time, as they receive extra attention from the workers {{2}}. However, if Hooper is right, it begs the question _“Which comes first? The dud pupa, or the smooth cell?”_ Is the cell smooth _because_ the bees can recognise a substandard developing pupa (so ignoring it), or is the pupa dud _because_ the cell is smooth? For example, contamination of the wax might reduce the attention given to the cell by workers, or the absence of a critical cohort of 'cell-sculptors' (entirely hypothetical … or are they?) in the hive might leave the cell unattended, leading to failure of the developing queen. ## The art of the possible Is this testable? Of course, it is. Let's assume you start with larvae grafted into plastic queen cups (like JzBz, Nicot, or your own 3D printed cups). All (!) you would then need to do was swap smooth and sculpted queen cells _just_ before pupation starts _i.e._ immediately prior to the cell being sealed. At this point, the larva remains floating in a bed of royal jelly within the plastic cup, with the wax of the queen cell being extended 'below' it, ready to be occupied when the larva reorientates vertically at the onset of pupation. Replacement of a natural queen cell with one built from a specific type of wax (screenshots from a video from Fang __et al__., 2026) As far as I know, this hasn't been done {{3}}, so we don't really understand why some cells are sculpted and some are not. However, in a recent paper published in the leading journal _Nature_ , scientists have used _exactly_ this technique to show that the wax the queen cell is constructed from has a _profound_ impact on the development of the queen (Fang _et al.,_ 2206). In a nutshell … queens reared in cells made from queen cell wax are _bigger_ than queens reared in cells made from worker wax. This suggests that there's something rather special about queen cell wax. And there is … but it turns out that not only is the wax _different_ , but the workers that construct the cells are also _different_ , in terms of age, behaviour, physiology, and genetics. Those 'cell-sculptors' are not so hypothetical after all 😉. This is an extraordinary piece of science, and provides novel insights into the construction and role of the cell in queen development. ****Why not become a sponsor?**** Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, many of which are for sponsors __only__. This post is for sponsors. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … with discounts for an annual membership. Become a sponsor The paper is — to put it mildly — data rich. The study took 6 years and has 20 authors. Many beekeepers won't have access to it, and (of those that do) most won't read it, and/or won't have the science background to understand it. That's a pity as the research is fascinating and remarkably complete _i.e._ it doesn't leave too many unanswered questions {{4}}. In addition, I think there are implications for beekeepers interested in queen rearing, both in terms of the hive and the bees that populate it. Finally, I think this work shows how little we really understand of this fascinating and exceptionally well-studied insect. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

I doubt that many readers of _The Apiarist_ also read the _Daily Mirror_. Those who do will be familiar with the tabloids' infatuation with the weather, evidenced by the frequent articles and dramatic headlines they employ. There's barely a ~~warm week~~ heatwave, ~~damp week~~ deluge, or ~~cold week~~ icy blast forecast that doesn't get exaggerated billing. Presumably they've done their market research, and they know it attracts subscribers (or perhaps 'clicks', as they don't sell many physical newspapers these days {{1}}). The __Daily Mirror__ don't have a ° symbol in their headline font Climate change must be _'the gift that keeps on giving'_ as far as the _Daily Mirror_ is concerned. ## Couch potatoes _vs._ real potatoes Anyone who spends time outdoors probably takes more notice of the forecast (and the weather when it arrives) than someone who is office-bound all week, and sofa-bound all weekend. By comparing the forecast with reality they learn how to interpret future predictions. Here in Scotland we know that it's rarely as hot, or cold, or wet as the meteorologists in the South-East predict. And it's _never_ as extreme as the _Daily Mirror_ suggests 😉. Whilst there's some truth to the adage _“there's no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing”_ , for many outdoor activities, benign weather (it doesn't have to the 'good') certainly helps. And it doesn't only help us … it helps the things we're working with as well. My potatoes went in once the threat of frost had largely passed, and my beekeeping really picked up once temperatures of ~14 °C could consistently be relied upon (the potatoes and the bees were the real beneficiaries here). Other than my potatoes, the weather has been on my mind for three reasons; my attempted prediction of when swarming would start, getting new queens mated, and avoiding heat exhaustion when inspecting colonies on the warmest days last month. Let's deal with those in reverse order. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

I made the comment last week that all unexplained colony losses are due to _Varroa_ , unless there's unequivocal evidence they are due to something else. If there are three weeks of rain in November, the stream floods, and you watch impotently as your hives are washed away downstream, I'll grudgingly accept that _Varroa_ wasn't to blame. However, 'unexplained' losses, in particular the majority of winter losses, are likely due to the detrimental effect of mites and the viruses they transmit within the colony. This is why I stress that mite management — minimising the mite numbers in the colony — is such an important component of beekeeping. Some beekeepers appear to be able to achieve this without the use of chemicals, but for most bees and most beekeepers it involves the correct use and application of miticides {{1}}. Miticides — literally mite killers — are chemicals administered to kill mites and reduce their number in the hive below an acceptable threshold. Because _Varroa_ mites are members of the _Acari_ subclass of the Arachnids, along with ticks, these chemicals are sometimes termed acaricides. The only good mite is a dead mite. ## Regulatory approval Mites, like ticks and bees and beekeepers, are living things, and so share many basic physiological and biochemical processes. To receive regulatory approval, the _benefits_ of the miticide must outweigh the _risks_ associated with its use. Typically, those risks would be for the bees — that is, the host organism — or the beekeeper, but they could also include environmental risks {{2}}. A miticide may be very effective at killing _Varroa_ , but if it were highly toxic to humans by trace level contact, it would not be approved. Although many _products_ have received regulatory approval, the range of _active ingredients_ (_i.e._ the chemical constituent that kills the mites) they contain are disappointingly limited. This post is only available to paid sponsors of __The Apiarist__. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor There are numerous formulations, some involving combinations, but all belong to one of three types of _organic_ chemicals (formic acid, oxalic acid, thymol), or one of three types of _synthetic_ chemicals (pyrethroids, organophosphothionates, and formamidines). ❗ I'm excluding Norroa™️, the recent RNAi-based therapy, from this post. Firstly, it's too new for there to be sufficient information on side effects after long-term usage. Secondly, it's not actually a miti****cide****. It suppresses mite reproduction, but __does not kill__ the mites. RNAi-based therapies are highly specific, but there's good evidence from other systems that resistance can occur. Time will tell whether this is also true for Norroa™️. Almost all approved miticides will kill 90 to 95% of Varroa if used appropriately. In this case, “appropriately” means when administered in the right way, at the right dose, and at the right time. Rational Varroa controlSuccessful Varroa control involves understanding that when you treat is probably more important than what you treat with.The ApiaristDavid (The Apiarist) Of these, at least in terms of benefits to the colony, timing is probably the most important. The right dose at the wrong time might be ineffective as far as preventing overwinter colony loss. I've discussed this at length in a previous post titled “Rational Varroa control”. If used in a manner that kills 90-95% of the mites, _timing_ is much more important than the particular miticide used. Therefore, it makes sense to take other factors into account when choosing which miticide to use; cost, availability, ease of administration … and the side effects associated with its use. And there _will_ be side effects. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Two and a half million motivational posters bearing the words _Keep Calm and Carry On_ were printed for distribution in mid-1939. In the end, few were ever displayed, and they were forgotten until being rediscovered in a bookshop in Northumberland, in 2000 {{1}}. The rest, as they say, is history. The wording has become internationally recognised. It is used as a decorative motto on a range of products … and an almost limitless number of internet memes. Despite this overexposure, the wording — emphasising stoicism, self-discipline, fortitude, and calmness in adversity — seemed appropriate for today's post. ### Keep Calm and Keep Bees _'Adversity'_ and _'beekeeping'_ aren't words I expect to find in the same sentence. It may not always be a scene of peace and serenity, but there should be few things more calming than spending some time on a warm afternoon watching the bees quietly going about their business. The opening paragraph of Underland by Robert Macfarlane captures the feeling perfectly: > _Late summer heatwave, heavy air. Bees browsing drowsy over meadow grass._ At least, that's what it should be like. If, when you arrive at the apiary, things are like this, and when you leave — having completed your inspections — they're much the same, then you should be pleased with yourself, and with your bees. Your intrusion, whilst undoubtedly noticed, was soon forgotten. Your inspection technique — the smoking, frame handling, and general absence of fuss — didn't overly disturb the bees. You were tolerated, if not actively welcomed. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor But it's not always like that. Sometimes events get a little out of control, or it appears as though things are conspiring against you. Or both. You, or the bees, get flustered. Or both. And then things can rapidly get messy. You don't feel in control, or you do things in a rush. To avoid this, you need to _“keep calm and carry on”_. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

If you go to the apiary in the early afternoon on a lovely day in late May you'll often find the air filled with a swirling mass of bees. Try following the flight of an individual bee — not always easy — and you'll see she's flying in uneven, ever-widening, spirals as she gains altitude. You'll eventually lose sight of her amongst the hundreds of other bees doing the same thing. Beginners can, understandably, mistake these flights for swarming activity. However, swarming bees leave the hive in a mad rush and the swarm quickly assumes a 'shape'. The bees don't disperse, but instead become concentrated, eventually settling on a nearby branch or fence post, forming a cluster (the bivouac) around the queen. Orientation flights at a nuc entrance In contrast, these spiralling bees do not rush out of the hive all at once, and they do not settle. They (briefly) disappear … off, up and away. The activity peaks and then declines. The exodus of bees from the hive tails off, and — although it's not really possible to distinguish them — the bees return, mixed up with the nectar- and pollen-laden foragers. And, the entire process may be repeated the following afternoon. The steady stream of foragers going to and fro are temporarily boosted by a 'flash mob' of new flying bees. These are young bees on their orientation flights. This flight activity is particularly noticeable on a warm, settled, sunny afternoon following a period of poor weather. Foraging may continue even in pretty dire conditions, but orientation flights are a fair weather activity. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Like many beekeepers, I'm often _thinking_ about my bees at any time of the day or night. But like most beekeepers, I do my beekeeping during the day. But not just any time during the day. Most of my beekeeping is done between late morning and mid/late afternoon. That's a 6-hour window, or just 25% of the day. During the rest of the time, the bees look after themselves — I don't bother them, at least, not usually. In temperate regions, other than during a heat wave, that 6-hour period straddles the time when it's a good temperature to open the hives. And, of equal importance, it includes the temperature at which the bees are much more tolerant of my meddling. The lows and highs over the last fortnight My bees are reasonably well-tempered at the ~~best~~ worst of times, but they're a lot better at 15 °C than they are at 5 °C. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor The timing of my trips to the apiary are therefore determined by my need to do something on a specific date (regular 7-day colony inspections, checking splits for queen cells, feeding the cell raiser) _and_ by the temperature. If the timing is important, it takes priority. I do whatever is needed _irrespective_ of the temperature. However, if there's some flexibility in the timing, I look at the weather forecast … and then usually have another coffee before setting off to the apiary. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

How many bees does it take to rear a queen? Using _nano-colonies_ , scientists have shown that as few as 100 bees can rear a new queen (Lamas _et al.,_ 2025). That's right, 100 nurse bees in a perforated plastic cup in an incubator, provided with a 12-hour-old queen cell (i.e., one that's _just_ been started), will rear the queen to emergence. There's no difference between the mating success of queens reared like this and those reared in a traditional cell builder {{1}}. However, if you read about methods employed by beekeepers you'll often see towering cell raising colonies recommended, consisting of two or three brood boxes packed with young and emerging brood. Following the addition of grafted 12-hour old larvae to the cell-raising colony, the resulting queens are reared until close to emergence, and then transferred to mini-nucs for subsequent mating. For the small-scale, enthusiastic amateur, both of these methods are unachievable … and undesirable. The nano-colonies, because you need a laboratory, considerable dexterity and the time to optimise the setup. The towering cell raiser, because it requires a _huge_ number of bees. If you've only got 2 or 3 colonies, establishing a double or triple brood box queenless cell raiser uses almost all of your stock. Irrespective of their scale, both these methods use _queenless_ colonies, and therefore the resulting queens are reared under what is termed the _emergency_ response. ## Queenright queen rearing But think about what happens in a natural colony — for example, one living in an old oak tree. The likelihood of the queen suddenly dying is very small. Nevertheless, the colony still needs to reproduce (swarm), and the queen must be replaced (supersedure) as she gets old and infirm. In these situations, new queens are reared in the _presence_ of the existing queen. The _swarming_ and _supersedure_ responses result in the production of new queens under _queenright_ conditions. In addition to being queenright, these colonies are not abnormally large {{2}}. The reality is that the majority of queens — in both free-living colonies and in thousands of 'managed' hives (in the absence of swarm control) — are reared under queenright conditions. Bees have been around for millions of years, and queenright queen rearing has worked very well for them. As I'll describe in this post, I think queenright methods are _ideal_ for the small-scale amateur beekeeper who wants to rear a few queens for their own apiary, or for friends. This is a long post (~5,000 words) covering both the principles and practice of queenright queen rearing, together with the tips and tricks that make the difference between success and failure. Access is for sponsors (paying subscribers) of __The Apiarist__. Sign up as a paid subscriber These methods require minimum amounts of specialist equipment, all inexpensive (or easy to build), and can be successfully employed using a _single_ hive. The method can be repeated, producing a trickle of queens over several weeks or months, with minimum disruption to the normal activity of the hive. Beekeepers often have to choose between making bees or honey … queenright queen rearing is about as close as you can get to achieving both 😄. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

We're still in that 'frame-building' part of the season I referred to last week. A bit too cold to open the hives for long, but still very pleasant to be outside working in the sunshine. I _have_ opened my hives, but as the afternoon cooled the foragers returned _en masse_ and their compliant acceptance of my meddling segued to mild resentment. I did what I had to, and closed them up _pronto_. Other than one queen who appears to be on a 'go slow', with little brood in the box, all the hives are thriving. I'm going to give the slow queen the benefit of the doubt {{1}} and call it 100% overwinter survival. That's what happens when you leave them with a bit of space and there's a nectar flow. The popular press have picked up the _'_ devastating winter losses_'_ story now, so it must be true. Perhaps I'm one of those freak outliers that confounds proper statistical analysis? It will be interesting to see what the BBKA or SBA winter survey results show … though without validation it's unlikely to be particularly illuminating. Inevitably, the weather will be the blamed. For once, that _might_ be correct, though not for the obvious reasons. I wrote about this in March in response to questions I was getting during winter talks. Winter losses 25–26Do wet winters kill bees? Winter losses in ’25/’26 appear to be unusually high. Inevitably, the miserable winter rain is blamed. However, I suspect the problem may be due to the earlier drought, a shortage of pollen, and the timing of winter bee production.The ApiaristDavid (The Apiarist) As I've said many times before … I only really believe it's something other than _Varroa_ if it's _obvious_ it's something _other_ than _Varroa_. The weather might have been _involved_ , but it wasn't the _cause_. Anyway, let's move on. ## First impressions Just because my hives were _thriving_ doesn't mean they were equally strong. Broadly they fell into two groups; the native/near-native dark bees and the yellower Heinz _'57 varieties'_ mongrels. The latter were stronger, some with 9+ frames of brood in all stages, which — unusually for me — have now been Demaree'd (more on that in a future post). 29th April 2014 … sunshine and abundant nectar is never a certainty in Scotland The weather is now set fair, with the first _warm_ high pressure system wafting in from the Azores. The 'natives' should soon catch up. However, if we'd had a fortnight of rain/sleet/snow (not unheard of in late April or even early May), the Heinz bees would have probably starved {{2}}. The local OSR is probably about 30–40% in flower now. If you look obliquely across the fields it's a dazzling yellow, but if you look down on a patch (or if you're looking onto a sloping field) the gaps are obvious. The strongest hives are very busy collecting pollen, and have some fresh nectar in the box, but I've only supered a few colonies so far. Having partly regained the use of my battered thumb {{3}} I can now grip gimp pins again, so I'm busy completing the last of my frame building. Tea, foundation and warm sunshine. It's wonderful to work outside, with a cup of tea, a row of pins held between my lips, the smell of fresh foundation, the odd inquisitive bee buzzing about, and the sound of skylarks reciting their medley of springtime hits. Just remember to finish nailing in the foundation, and use _all_ the gimp pins, before taking a slurp of tea 😉. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor ## Bait hives Swarming will start here within the next month, so (in my area of the Scottish Borders at least) now is the time to prepare and set out bait hives. I recovered some old, empty, dark frames during the colony inspections last weekend, retrieved the bait hives from the pile, brushed off the cobwebs, and put everything together. So, where to place them? ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

I'm aware that beekeepers in the south of England are already wrangling swarms and starting their queen rearing. However, up here in the Scottish Borders, the season starts at a more sedate pace. As the spring warms up, there's a period when it's still too cold to open hives, but it's warm enough to build frames outdoors. There's a week or three when you can build all the frames you need for the season, feel very virtuous having done so, and not miss too much beekeeping. However, don't start too soon. A poorly aimed hammer with cold fingers and thumbs creates a world of pain. Frame building accompanied by skylarks and sunshine (before the thumb incident) My frame building is currently on hold after a non-beekeeping DIY fiasco resulted in my thumb and pinky being entirely swathed in Elastoplast. Nevertheless, I did manage to build a few dozen frames before I was rendered incapable of holding a gimp pin, so I've at least made a start. ### Gimp pins I've always called frame nails 'gimp pins', but a quick check suggests that the latter term refers to a somewhat cruder product used by upholsterers to secure fabric covering on furniture. Perhaps I'll try to use 'frame nails' in the future … While we're on the topic, I'd strongly recommend you only purchase _first quality_ ~~gimp pins~~ frame nails, rather than the seconds that suppliers sometime sell. These include all sorts of misshapen monstrosities (spade ends, missing heads) which _'slow the flow'_ when you're building frame after frame. A standard frame uses 11 gimp pins {{1}}, three of which are usually driven through the 'wedge' and the wire loops of the foundation to hold everything securely together. Abelo Mini-Plus frames slotted together Of the frames I did manage to finish, a couple of dozen were for my new Mini-Plus Abelo hives. These are cleverly designed half-sized National frames. They're used individually in the Mini-Plus hive, or joined together to create a full-size National frame. I discussed my plans for using these in a recent post on queen rearing; super-sized eggs and no grafting … what's not to like? These half-size Abelo frames only require two gimp pins to hold the (rather thin) wedge in place. My plans necessitate the use of unwired foundation and the sheets have a tendency to fall out of these frames because the wedge doesn't always hold them very securely. Once the bees have drawn the comb out, everything will be fine, but until then, it's a bit precarious. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor ## Frame clamps I've had a similar experience with full-size sheets of unwired foundation (in brood or super frames _e.g._ for cut comb, or to go through my hydropress). Typically, the frame looks fine before you take it to the apiary, and then — right around the time you're putting it into the hive — the foundation slips. How did I not manage to take a better photograph? A sheet of unwired foundation that's broken free from the securing wedge nailed in place. _Grrrr!_ … very frustrating. I'm sure there's a 'correct' way to fix these sheets of unwired foundation securely. For example, you could run a bead of molten wax along the underside of the frame and glue them in place. But that's not going to be a workable solution in the apiary. A bit of lateral thinking was required. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

In Swarm-ready? last week, I made the comment that it was _“baloney”_ when the naysayers claimed that swarm control was detrimental to the colony because it was 'unnatural'. I knew when I made the comment that it wasn't entirely true. Since this is beekeeping, every statement needs to be qualified. Other than _“knocking back queen cells isn't swarm control”_ , there are very few absolutes in our hobby. Without question, swarm control _is_ beneficial. It keeps the population together as a honey-gathering force, it negates the risk of losing swarms to the environment (where they cause problems for others), and it avoids the repeated loss of swarms and casts that may threaten colony viability. Finally, and perhaps most significantly, it _'saves the bees'_ ; the majority of lost swarms that are not re-hived will perish. Swarm control of _any_ form, is undoubtedly better than _no_ swarm control. Nevertheless, for certain populations of bees in the hive, swarm control _may be_ detrimental. And, knowing _why_ it's detrimental, you'll realise that some swarm control methods are almost certainly less damaging than others. These methods might be considered 'better' if you are the sort of beekeeper who likes to rank things 😉. I am. Access to this post requires a paid subscription to __The Apiarist.__ The post is 4,500+ words long, and took several hours to write and illustrate. None of it is AI-generated 'slop'. Paying subscribers (sponsors) keep the lights on here, they keep the servers backed up, and they pay for the coffee I drink when writing. A paid subscription costs about the same as a large cappuccino a month, or less annually, and gives you access to an archive of ~700 posts, a new article every Friday, and irregular __Beemusings__ posts. Yes please! Sign me up 😄 ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Here's something that caught my eye last week … a Jenter-like system made entirely from beeswax that avoids the need to graft day-old larvae. The authors report it produces larger queen cells, and bigger, more _'queen-like'_ queens, than larvae grafted from the same source. Tempting, very tempting 😄. The majority of commercially reared queens are produced from grafted larvae, transferred manually from natural comb to a plastic queen cup. These are presented vertically in a queenless cell raiser, fed copious amounts of royal jelly, and eventually emerge as queens. Amateur beekeepers use similar methods, but some struggle with manual grafting of larvae of less than one day old. Poor eyesight, unsteady hands, and dodgy hand-eye coordination result in larvae being missed or damaged. Inadvertent compensation frequently leads to the selection of larvae that are too old. Together these result in low acceptance rates or the production of substandard queens. ## Jenter and Nicot Cupkit systems One solution is to use a Nicot or Jenter “cassette system” for queen rearing, in which a caged queen lays directly into plastic cups which are then presented to a cell raising colony. Both are designed to produce numerous larvae of the right age, without the need for grafting. Jenter queen cup components and holder These cassette systems are not inexpensive (the Nicot Cupkit version is ~£75 and the Jenter system is currently £114 😱). An additional drawback is that queens may be reluctant to lay when confined in them. __Beemusings__ posts are only available to paying subscribers (sponsors) of __The Apiarist__. Why not sign up and see what you're missing? Sponsorship costs about the same as a large cappuccino a month, with discounts for annual membership. Sign up Recently, some fiendishly dextrous researchers at Jiangxi Agricultural University have produced a Jenter-like system entirely from beeswax. Using it, they demonstrate that the queens they produce appear to be _better_ than queens reared by grafting of larvae _from the same original frame_. Sounds good … read on. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Well, are you? It seemed that no sooner than I'd pressed the _'Submit'_ button on the post last week, that _regular reader_ Frazer commented that there were already swarm cells in Kent. By the end of the month there were reports of swarms _lost_ in Hampshire. By the time this post appears the 'swarm front' will have crept further north. Many more readers will be discovering how prepared — or otherwise — they were for the swarm season this year. Queen cells will have been found, queen cells will have been missed, and swarms will have been lost. __Oops!__ Beekeepers will have wandered down to the apiary, idly pondering if it was time to add a super, and — to their surprise — found a bivouacked swarm hanging in a nearby bush. _Oops!_ Or — both a surprise and a disappointment — you discover a much-depleted colony, a dozen sealed swarm cells, and no sign whatsoever of the missing bees. Any chance of a bumper spring honey crop has disappeared over the apiary fence 😞. Every year, starting about now, there's a four to six-week period — the swarm season — when swarms should be expected. It's often the busiest time of the year for beekeepers. During this period you need to be prepared both for queen cells in your own colonies, and for swarms in the local environment. As Benjamin Franklin didn't say _“By failing to prepare you are preparing to fail.”_ ****Why not become a sponsor?**** Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, many of which are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … with discounts for an annual membership. Go on … you know it makes sense 😄. OK, I'm convinced, sign me up! In this week's post, I'm going to give an overview of what to look for in your colonies and the equipment you need to deal with swarms that are about to be lost, or the bivouacked swarms you find (or are asked to collect). Experienced beekeepers will know most of this, so I've also included an update of absconding swarms and re-hiving distances, and of my swarm predictions. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

After the _magnum opus_ last week, I thought I'd write something shorter, easier to digest and covering a mix of topics … albeit with much less easy queen rearing. Whether I actually achieve that remains to be seen 😉. _Cusp_ has several meanings, but I'm using it to mean _'A point of transition between two different stages or states; a verge, brink, or threshold.'_ It seemed appropriate considering where we are with the 2026 beekeeping season. It's on the way … but it hasn't _really_ started. A few days ago it was mid- to high-teens (°C), with lovely warm sunshine and a gentle breeze. The bees were really hammering the gorse and willow. It was a perfect day to inspect a few colonies and see how things were progressing after the long winter. I didn't. Today is cold, grey, and wet. It was predicted to be 12 °C, but barely reached 8 °C. Many weather forecasts these days include a _'feels like'_ guide to the temperature. This takes into account the actual temperature, and things like wind speed and humidity. I'm well aware what the _'feels like'_ temperature felt like. I walked the dogs this morning, and it felt like I should have stayed at home and had another coffee. ****Why not become a sponsor?**** Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, many of which are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … with discounts for an annual membership. Become a sponsor Looking ahead {{1}}, the predicted temperature doesn't exceed 11 °C for a week, and the _'feels like'_ high wobbles between an underwhelming 7 °C and a very disappointing 3 °C … with overnight frosts {{2}}. ## False starts Those temperatures are why I didn't have a quick rummage through the brood boxes last weekend. The small amount of information I _might_ have gleaned would have been more than outweighed by the disruption it would have caused the colony. The bees might not thank me, but they'll benefit from keeping the propolis seals intact. The only hives briefly opened were the couple that got more fondant to tide them over the next week or two. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

About 250 years ago A.G. Schirach, a pastor in Kleinbautzen, Eastern Germany, showed it was possible to rear new queens from larvae laid in worker cells. François Huber described Shirach's _“conversion of a common worm into a royal one”_ when he repeated the experiments a few years later. In 1794, Huber published his studies. The addition of eggs and young larvae to a queenless colony resulted in them provisioning the _“worms with a thick bed of jelly”_. Huber then removed the initial 'worms' (larvae) and replaced them with two day old worker larvae, which were subsequently reared into queens. Many beekeepers will recognise the two key features in that paragraph that characterise many current queen rearing strategies: * Use of a _queenless_ colony to rear new queen cells; the cells are being reared under the _emergency response_. * Grafting — the manual transfer of beekeeper-selected larvae — from a donor colony into cells in a queenless cell-raising colony {{1}}. Since then, for ~230 years, _nothing_ has really changed. In the latter half of the 19th Century G.M. Doolittle popularised queen rearing by grafting directly into wax cups. He initially used natural 'play cups', and later described the creation of cups from warmed wax moulded around shaped dowels. This use of wax cups wasn't Doolittle's invention, but it became known — and still is — as the Doolittle method {{2}}. Laidlaw & Eckert discuss the history of queen rearing in the introduction to their, appropriately titled, book _Queen Rearing_ (1962). Laidlaw & Eckert, 1962 The 'state of the art' methods they go on to describe — remember, from ~60 years ago — are essentially _identical_ to those currently used to rear the vast majority of queens {{3}}: * Manual selection and grafting of day-old larvae into artificial queen cups (often now plastic, rather than wax). * Presentation of the grafted larvae to a queenless cell-raising colony where they are reared under the emergency response. * Use of nucs or mini-nucs for queen mating. But, although the methods haven't changed in 60+ years, we've learnt a lot in the intervening period about how the colony _naturally_ rears new queens. It's quite an interesting story … but it's ignored by most beekeepers when rearing queens 😞. ### Science, and the _'art of the possible'_ Honey bees are fascinating insects. They are studied by scientists interested in the evolution of eusocial behaviour, or waggle-dance communication, or pheromones. Or, for that matter, how larvae are selected by the colony when rearing new queens. This is arguably the _most important_ decision the colony makes. If they get it wrong, the swarmed colony will perish … or, simply prolonging the inevitable, not thrive, and fail to reproduce (swarm) the following year. Scientists can _only_ meaningfully study events that are reproducible. This allows experiments to be repeated to provide statistical rigour to the conclusions. Queens are reared in response to three different conditions: * Queenlessness — the **emergency** response * A failing, ageing, or substandard queen — the **supersedure** response * Overcrowding, or a reduction in the queen retinue pheromone — the **swarming** response Whilst you _can_ induce overcrowding, or use geriatric queens, scientists cannot _reproducibly_ create conditions for swarming or supersedure. Doing so is all a bit hit-and-miss. Therefore, in studies of queen rearing, scientists rely upon the induction of the emergency response. The great thing about the emergency response is that it works … _every time_. And, in studies of queens reared under the emergency response, we now know that the colony is **extremely selective** in the larvae they choose to rear new queens from. Their future depends upon it, so it's not surprising that they're picky. Unfortunately, beekeepers _manually_ selecting larvae for grafting are unable to discriminate using _any_ of the criteria used by the bees. Inevitably this means that some larvae beekeepers choose would have been overlooked or rejected by a colony rearing a new queen. But, all is not lost … Most queens are reared by beekeepers under the emergency response. Since that is also how scientists have also studied how queens are reared, the scientific results are _very relevant_ to practical beekeeping. Knowing what the bees do should allow beekeepers to rear better queens. 💡 This is an unusually long and detailed post. Covering both __why?__ and __how?__ these methods produce good queens took me longer than expected. If your email client has truncated the newsletter, you should view the entire post on the website. ## Trust the bees In this post, I'm going to briefly outline the current understanding of the science relevant to queen rearing, and then describe two practical approaches to exploit this to rear queens. Conveniently — and importantly — one of these approaches is suitable for those with no previous queen rearing experience, and requires no additional equipment. It is therefore appropriate for relatively inexperienced beekeepers who are interested in rearing a few queens for their own use, or to share with friends. ****Why not become a sponsor?**** Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, many of which — ****like this post**** — are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … with discounts for an annual membership. Become a sponsor The second method is really a logical extension of the first, requiring a little specialised equipment, and involving some slightly more advanced hive manipulations. Nevertheless, it should be well within the capabilities of beekeepers with 2–3 years of practical experience. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

This is a continuation of the post from a fortnight ago, and I recommend you start there for the preamble if you're a new subscriber (or forgetful 😉). Although the views I express in these two posts are primarily for people _starting_ beekeeping, there may be things of relevance to those entering their second or third year who are keen to expand their hive numbers. It may also be of relevance to those _training_ new beekeepers, and who want to reinforce the need to choose equipment wisely {{1}}. The financial outlay you _have_ to make when starting beekeeping is a lot less than the commitment the catalogues and websites _imply_ you should make. Nevertheless, you probably will have to part with a substantial chunk of cash before you get your bees … {{2}}. You need a hive for the bees to live in, the PPE (personal protective equipment _i.e._ a bee suit and gloves) to keep you safe and feeling confident, and a hive tool and smoker for colony inspections. Those items provide what's necessary to _house_ your bees, and to check they're still in the box in the weeks after you put them there, and not (yet) making plans to swarm. But it doesn't end there. Although it _might_ not be used in your first season, you will need additional equipment to ensure you _keep_ your bees. Keep as in _keep them from swarming_ , a process that results in the potential loss of ~75% of the workers, and _any_ chance of getting a good honey crop that season. This is the kit required for successful swarm control. Unfortunately, from a financial standpoint, this additional equipment — the easiest and least expensive option being a simple 5–frame nucleus hive — will be needed almost from the outset. When swarm control is required, you don't have the time to order something suitable online and await delivery. Furthermore, your beekeeping friends are likely busily applying _their_ swarm control, so may not have any spares to borrow. ****Why not become a sponsor?**** Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, many of which are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … with discounts for an annual membership. Become a sponsor I discussed the bee suit, gloves, and the hive tool in part 1. This week I'm going to focus on the choice of the hive, a nuc for swarm control, the smoker, and a couple of 'luxury' items that will make your early forays in beekeeping both easier and more enjoyable. ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Inexorably, as the earth's axis tilts, the days are getting longer … and warmer. The morning frosts have largely disappeared, the fieldfares and redwings returned to Scandinavia, and the oystercatchers are noisily squabbling over territories in the soggy meadow by the burn. Single-digit daytime temperatures are replaced by double-digits, with the occasional day reaching the balmy low/mid-teens in the sun. And it's on these warmer days, when you visit your apiary, you realise how rapidly colonies expand at this time of the year. Although there may not be agreement on whether spring has started — meteorologically it starts on the 1st of March, but astronomically it won't be here until the 20th {{1}} — the bees are busy making preparations to exploit the seasonal increase in nectar and pollen availability and, in due course, for swarming. There's still snow on the hills, but the days are lengthening and getting warmer. The diutinus (long-lived) winter bees are gradually being replaced by new brood as the queen increases her egg-laying rate. _'Changeover day'_ , the date when the colony population stops decreasing, and starts increasing again, occurs around this time of the year {{2}}. Rearing all those new bees requires lots of protein and carbohydrate. On good days the bees will be out foraging; around here that's mainly on the abundant gorse and willow. However, not all days are suitable, and on these the bees dig deep into their stores. This is the time of the year when colonies can starve to death in a matter of days. An apparently strong colony at the end of February can be moribund a week later if the weather is poor, or forage is limiting. It's a tragic site. You open the hive and almost all the bees are dead, with just a few pathetic stragglers tottering about weakly. It's too late to save them. Having got the colony through the worst of the winter, you've lost them when you're within sight of the finish line. ## Fondant top-ups All that tragedy is avoidable by ensuring the colony has sufficient stores, and supplementing them with fondant if there is _any_ doubt. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

Welcome to the wonderful world of beekeeping 😄. If you are one of the hundreds of trainee beekeepers currently attending a _Start Beekeeping_ course with a local association, you will probably be filling time between the weekly sessions fervently reading equipment catalogues and websites. You will be — in equal measure — tempted, confused, concerned about making the right choice, and astounded at the costs for the '_essentials_ '. How do I know this? Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. Warwick and Leamington Beekeepers (my beekeeping _alma mater_) provided their trainees with a copy of the Thorne's catalogue. Six weeks later, at the end of the course and before ever opening a hive, I had a list of equipment I felt I _must_ buy, a very tatty and well-thumbed catalogue, and a billion questions such as _“DN4 or DN5?”_ and _“Should I purchase the 'BeeExpert' Taranov board 'SwarmSaver™️'?”_ {{1}} The course tutors did their best to answer the questions and tried to discourage the most egregious equipment choices. Nevertheless, boundless enthusiasm, a cold spring, and weeks spent salivating over the catalogue, were too much for some. Orders were placed, boxes and boxes of stuff arrived, and it was _still_ far too early to open a hive. My first smoker … a bit small, hard to keep lit, but still used now and then. I'll discuss smokers in more detail in part 2. I was fortunate. I had a youngish family, a big mortgage, and little spare cash. Other priorities (and the bank manager) delayed me 'pushing the button'. And then I got a lucky break. A previous association member, discovering they were allergic soon after starting the previous season, was selling up. Their mentor — my mentor — put them in contact with me. They had bought little and wisely, and I bought the lot for a song. Almost everything I bought is still in use every season (~18 years later). I think there are only two exceptions … the hive tool, which was an abomination and soon lost, and the smoker (which I still have, and use very occasionally, but is really too small). ## Early lessons I started with the bare minimum, not what the catalogues tell you are essential, invaluable, game-changing, or revolutionary. In fact, if they describe _anything_ like that, it's a sure bet the item is unnecessary. Remember, beekeepers drive knackered vans, while those who sell beekeeping equipment drive something newer, sleeker, shinier, faster, and _considerably_ more expensive 😉. Other than the hive tool and smoker, the kit included a cedar hive (floor, brood box, supers, crownboard and roof), a queen excluder, and a bee suit. There were also a few bits and bobs for making frames. All were reasonable quality, but none were top of the range. Most, as I said, are still in use. And it was _still_ a few weeks before I had my own bees. I think there are several important lessons here: * There's no rush. It will be weeks, and probably 2–3 months, until you'll be needing most of the equipment, so take your time in making the right choices {{2}}. You don't need everything now. As I'll explain, the first thing you require is probably _not_ the hive. * You also don't need new or top of the range _anything_. Beekeeping equipment should last decades. If you have the option to buy used, then do (I'll discuss some basic precautions in part 2). If you don't, then buy something that will last, and continue to be usable {{3}}. * There's not much that is actually _essential_. Buy what you require, but no more. If you enjoy the hobby you'll have many, many years to buy, build, and borrow _other_ equipment, when and if you need it (or _think_ you need it {{4}}). In one of my talks, I say (about equipment) _“You never have enough, until you have far too much”_. However, that doesn't apply in your first season … buy the bare minimum. 💡 Part 2 will follow in a fortnight or so, and will be for subscribers … to avoid the entire post being ripped off and regurgitated, unattributed, by ChatGPT. ## Buy once, buy wisely I'm not going to tell you what to buy, but I will make a few suggestions to help you decide. In addition, I will mention a couple of things you should probably _not_ buy. Not because they don't work (frankly, the bees rarely care … they cope admirably with all sorts of ill-chosen and badly designed equipment), but because there are _better_ alternatives that will make your first hesitant steps in beekeeping _easier_. And if you find it easier, you'll enjoy it more. The names and makes I mention are those I have experience with, but they are not specific recommendations. Instead, they are an indication of the _types_ of things you should be considering. _Regular readers_ know that there are no adverts or affiliate links on this site, and that any equipment I use has either been bought or built by me (_i.e._ there are no positive reviews in exchange for promoting stuff I've been given). Even buying the basics, the outlay is likely to be considerable. So, do what I did, and see if any of last year's trainees are abandoning the hobby. You might be lucky and save a chunk of cash {{5}}. Buying wisely means thinking about the future. * Is the item of sufficient quality to last for years? * Does it conform to standards of any type? Despite what you might be told or read, there are precious few of these in beekeeping (and there certainly aren't for hive types), perhaps other than frame dimensions. However, _compatibility_ is critical, as I discuss below. * If there's a choice (and there often is) choose the item that makes things easier for you and/or your bees. I'll give a few examples later — queen excluders, supers, gloves, and hammers (!) — but it applies to _everything_ you purchase. If it makes things easier, you'll enjoy the hobby more. That means you'll probably continue beekeeping … which makes it all the more important it's compatible and of sufficient quality to last. ## Compatibility Frame dimensions and the bee space {{6}} around them define the internal size of the box to accommodate your bees. Since you should be purchasing your bees locally, and because you might need to borrow equipment from your mentor, it makes sense to use a frame size that is widely used by local beekeepers. Ask around. If everyone uses Langstroths, you're sorted. They use Nationals? OK, use those. Smiths? Fine. Skeps? Er, not so much 😉 {{7}}. No frame type is inherently 'better' than any other. But it's not _quite_ that simple! Frames come in different depths. You can't fit a deep frame into a standard depth brood box. _Vice versa_ does fit, but it leaves the bees lots of empty space which they'll happily fill with comb, making inspections problematic. So, you need to know the frame dimensions (National, Langstroth _etc_.) _including_ the depth of the frame … and that defines the box you need to accommodate them. Unfortunately, the supposedly standard hive types (_e.g._ Nationals, Langstroths, or Smiths) are really only standards with regard to their _internal_ dimensions, with the caveats on depth outlined above. Even then, the _width_ of the box can vary {{8}}. The _external_ dimensions of the box are determined by the numbers of frames _and_ the material the box is made of … and these vary. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign me up as a sponsor ### Stacking — where fancy design meets practical reality Worse, the _interface_ between the boxes may differ. Some are flat, some are lipped, some are overhanging. The interface __between__ boxes determines compatibility In many ways this is the most important limitation for future compatibility. A defining feature of beekeeping is the lifting and stacking of boxes on top of each other. We do this to provide the bees with more space to expand into, or to store honey in, or during the various hive manipulations used to stop swarming, or to split the colony to make more bees. And, if the boxes do not stack, then _“_ _Houston …~~we~~ you have a problem_ _”_. You might be able to _balance_ one box on top of another, but they're either not secure, or the bee space is butchered. This results in the bees being crushed, or lots of brace comb (_and_ crushed bees). Boxes with flat interfaces stack on top of other flat boxes, irrespective of the manufacturer {{9}}. Flat, lipped and overhanging interfaces determine whether boxes will mix'n'match. The lipped image is a poly nuc because I don't own any lipped full-size hives. The overhanging interface shows the underside of a poly super. The curved corners mean the box will not stack on boxes with similar external dimensions (see below). Boxes with lips, or overhangs, are almost always manufacturer-specific {{10}}. Worse, they're almost certainly specific to _that particular iteration of the hive design_ made by that manufacturer. The design might change next year, or in a decade. The change will be justified as providing improved function, but I suspect it's as much to do with improved _profits_. Don't get me wrong, these hive designs with upstanding lips, or overhanging edges, are likely all perfectly good. But buying them ties you to a particular make/design for the foreseeable future. Until they start making something slightly ~~improved~~ different. And, when that happens, you will be left with boxes of different designs/types, some of which are mutually incompatible. That way lies madness {{11}}. Uniting incompatible boxes requires a shim to ensure the interface is stable and beetight. #### Do your homework I'm getting ahead of myself. The first thing you should be thinking of buying isn't a hive. But since we've come this far, now's the time to go back and re-read the catalogues and websites and look carefully at the hive designs. Think of this as _'informed homework'_. Be aware that some manufacturers sell hive types with the same general name, but that are incompatible _with each other_ , to say nothing of compatibility with a hive of the same 'type' from a different manufacturer. Now you're starting to understand the issue 😄. Ask your association about the hive/frame types that predominate locally. Now you know what to look for, you'll probably realise that your choice is more limited. In Part 2 I'll discuss other factors to consider when choosing your first hive. In the meantime, although you've not got bees yet (and you won't have for some time), visits to the training apiary should be starting once the weather warms up. You will need to feel comfortable and confident when the hive roofs are lifted, so the first thing you should be thinking of acquiring is a bee suit. ## The bee suit Faintly ridiculous, _deeply_ unflattering, … and yet absolutely essential. Bees should not be aggressive, but they can be defensive if the hive is opened for too long, or the manipulation is heavy-handed {{12}}. You therefore need to be properly protected so that you feel confident. That doesn't mean you will never get stung. The odd sting or two should be expected (per season, not per inspection), and it's a reminder that the bees are unhappy about something you're doing. Your association may have suits you can borrow to start with. If not, and definitely before you have your own bees, you will need to buy one. Buy a suit, not a jacket/trousers combo. The fewer gaps there are, the less likely you'll find a bee inside the veil, or targeting the soft tissues near your armpit (or worse … much, much worse 😱 {{13}}). The flexibility that separates offer, includes the flexibility to allow the bees to get in. There's a huge choice. A polyester/cotton mix is fine, but make sure you buy one that isn't too restricting; stings will rarely penetrate if the suit is a bit baggy, and you'll be doing a lot of bending and stretching. As I said, unflattering. Don't worry, you'll get used to it and will soon think nothing of going to the petrol station, or round the supermarket, in your suit on your way back from the apiary. Make sure the veil is detachable, that the zips are good quality, and that the areas where the zips meet (in particular, under the chin, or at the nape) have Velcro-type closures. The wrists should have thumb loops. Pockets, integral knee pads, and embroidery are all nice to have, but not required. I've only ever bought and used BBwear. The BBwear suit I bought secondhand is still the one I routinely use … I wore it to the apiary this afternoon when adding my microalgal pollen patties to the colonies. It's been repaired by the manufacturer (new veil and a couple of new zips), and it should last at least another 20 years. When I started, my association had a deal of some sort with BBwear, who offered discounts for new members. Ask your association. Alternatively, if you attend the beekeeping shows, they used to offer discounts to purchasers who didn't take the bundled gauntlets with the suit. And, believe me, _you do not want the gauntlets_ 😉. If you've enjoyed reading __The Apiarist__ , please consider becoming a sponsor. Alternatively, since my late-night writing is fuelled by caffeine and cake, you can help offset my outlay on these __essentials__ by pressing this button. __Thank you__ 😄 Buy me a Coffee ☕️ ### Extremities Your hands, wrists, and ankles {{14}} need protection. Ankles (and feet) are easy. At least when starting out, wear wellington boots, and tuck your bee suit inside them. Bees tend to crawl _up_ things, so if one crawls from the ground onto your foot, they may get inside the suit if you wear it _over_ your boot. Wellingtons are also useful as apiaries can be muddy and wet. In the future you may well find wellingtons are too hot or clumsy for everyday beekeeping wear. However, when starting out, it's one less thing to worry about. Hands and wrists are the things that are closest to the bees when doing an inspection. The soft inner forearm and wrist are often particularly sensitive to stings, and there can be a tempting gap between the end of the bee suit sleeve and your glove. Gauntlets might seem the obvious solution. Don't. Just don't. Other than bending and lifting, beekeeping is all about _manual dexterity_. Gauntlets singlehandedly (and two are worse 😉) destroy that dexterity. You cannot feel the bees, or the lugs of the frames, or — with the thickest and most 'protective' gauntlets — the handholds recessed into the sides of broods and supers. You _will_ crush more bees, which release alarm pheromones {{15}}, and so will consequently get stung more. Of course, you might not _feel_ the stings because of the thickness of the gauntlets, but the colony will get increasingly agitated and defensive. This makes the colony inspection a lot more difficult. And you'll have the same problems next week. The sting pheromone soaked into the gauntlets will agitate the bees _before_ you do anything to the colony. You'll begin to think you've bought an aggressive colony from an unscrupulous supplier, or worse, you'll consider abandoning the hobby {{78 Washing the gauntlets helps remove the pheromone … but makes them even less flexible, so reducing your dexterity further.}}. But the good news is that all of those problems are avoided by not wearing gauntlets in the first place. Gauntlets, Marigolds and long-cuff nitrile gloves ### The thinner, the better It seems antithetical, but you'll get stung _less_ if you wear thinner gloves. Much thinner. Long cuffed nitrile gloves are thin enough you can feel a little _'bzzzz'_ if you're about to crush a bee between your finger and the frame lug, and they're thin enough to pick the queen up by her wings if needed. You will be more aware of what everything feels like, and will very rarely get stung through the gloves. If you do get stung, the barbed portion of the sting gets stuck in the glove, not your finger, so you feel very little {{16}}. I wear nitriles for 80% of my beekeeping. For the remainder I'll wear standard Marigold-type washing up gloves. These are harder wearing, so useful if you're doing lots of lifting, carrying or frame manipulations. They are also (almost) completely impervious to stings. If the colony is 'hotter' than normal — for whatever reason — Marigolds provide the necessary protection. For beginners, Marigolds are a much better choice than gauntlets, but I'd encourage you to try nitriles. All these gloves should be considered disposable, but they can be re-used multiple times in the _same_ apiary (to avoid disease transmission to _other_ apiaries), so the 'wastage' is probably acceptable. For the same reasons I tuck my suit into my boots, I stretch the cuffs of the gloves over the ends of my sleeves … which explains the need for thumb loops. Without them, the sleeves inevitably ride up with all that stretching and reaching. ## Hive tools There are a dizzying range of hive tools available. Dadant list ~11, Mann Lake ~14, and Thorne's ~23. Confused? You will be. Some I've yet to lose. Considering they're all just bent bits of metal that do pretty much the same thing, that should tell you something, though I'm not entirely sure what. 'Uncharitable me' (surely not?) thinks it is the equipment suppliers selling stuff we don't really need, but marketed in such a way we'll think it's an essential. For example, an extra long hive tool to reach into the depths of the brood box and/or for more 'leverage'. Propolis is sticky stuff, but it's not superglue, and I've yet to find frames so stuck together a normal hive tool (used properly) wasn't enough to loosen them. And, _“the depths of the brood box”_? Really? Just remove another frame and put your entire arm in … your fingers are _much_ better at retrieving whatever you were going to use the hive tool for. A very small hive tool However, for once, it's not _just_ marketing. The reality is that hive tools are a very personal choice. During an inspection you'll be holding one most of the time, so size and weight are an important consideration. I have medium-sized hands, and the larger hive tools all feel unwieldy and clumsy. Conversely, the small ones may not provide enough leverage. _Try before you buy_ , but — even then — expect to buy several before you find one that feels perfect. And, when you do find the right one, buy some spares. Like queens, they can get to be elusive (you drop both in the grass, but the hive tool can't find its own way back to the hive). Not too big, not too small … the Goldilocks of hive tools (for me). I'd recommend buying stainless steel (the cheap ones aren't) and make sure it has a sharp 'edge' for removing propolis and brace comb. Keep it in a sealed container soaking in a strong solution of washing soda {{17}} as part of your good apiary hygiene. My favourite is the one shown above. I bought a dozen when they were last available. The 'new low price' currently shown on the website is for a different, appreciably lower quality, variant {{18}}. ## Not long now The weeks between January and early-March can feel interminable for beekeepers in temperate regions {{19}}. Winter is slipping away, but spring isn't really here yet. But it's coming. An amphitheatre of sound, filled with the song of skylarks Over the last ten days or so I've watched rooks starting to build their straggly nests in the leaf-free tops of the tallest oaks, and been dazzled by the drifts of snowdrops in the low sunshine. I've walked across fields bathed in the songs of skylarks establishing their territories, and watched a free-living colony of bees in a nearby tree turf out the corpses that had accumulated during the cold weather. The nearby 'bee tree' and snowdrops in the hedgerows Most of my colonies are looking good, considering the season hasn't really started yet. All appear alive and well (so far, it's still a month until I can be certain they've survived the winter), and have pollen patties, and fondant if needed. On the better days, for an hour or so, they're foraging on the flowering gorse and hazel catkins. The willow has yet to flower, but are close to bud burst. Overwintered colony on 1st February 2026 My preparation for the season is at about the stage I'd expect it to be (_i.e._ well behind schedule 😞). Inevitably, I've bought some new stuff I probably didn't need, and — commendably — have nearly finished building some things I did. However, the pile of bundled unassembled frames in the shed aren't getting any smaller, and I know I've got to make a start on them soon. In the next post on 'equipment for beginners' I'll discuss hives, bits for hives, and nucs. And yes, you'll need one of those as well 😉. _Now, go do your homework._ ****More like this?**** That's over 3,000 words you've just read on bees and beekeeping. If you want more of this __every__ week, then why not sign up as a sponsor of __The Apiarist?__ About 50% of posts are now for sponsors __only__ , and sponsors ensure that there will be comprehensive, well researched and entertaining posts on sustainable beekeeping appearing every week. Yes please … sign me up as a sponsor Share this post: Equipment for beginners — part 1 first appeared in _The Apiarist_ in February 2026 * * * {{1}}: Those Q's are easy to answer … DN5 are better (Why? Stronger, less brace comb), and no, it doesn't exist. And, even if it did, you _still_ don't need it. {{2}}: Beginners should not get bees _early_ in the season … leave it until it's _dependably_ warm. Inspections are much easier. {{3}}: If not by you, by someone else. The reality is that beekeeping isn't for everyone. Some start with unbridled enthusiasm, but — for whatever reason — decide to give up. If that's the case, wisely chosen equipment will be easier to sell (and at a better price), to help someone else start beekeeping. {{4}}: Which is not the same thing at all 😉. {{5}}: Lots of people start beekeeping every year. However, the numbers of beekeepers are not increasing _that_ fast. Therefore, a significant proportion of people who start beekeeping must be giving up. Do the maths! {{6}}: Hopefully, this has been described in your beginners course … it's the ~8 mm of so space the bees move through. Much more or less than that, and they reduce the space with brace comb. {{7}}: I'm being flippant … however, there's an important point to be made here. Learn how to keep bees using what I would term 'usual' methods … that means removable frame hives, swarm control, mite management _etc_. It's the easiest way to _succeed_. After you've mastered these things, by all means try other management methods. However, anyone promoting skeps, uncontrolled swarming, or no mite control **for beginners** is being irresponsible. To paraphrase Benjamin Franklin … they're being _'prepared to fail'_. {{8}}: There are National hives that take 10, 11 or 12 frames, and Langstroths are usually 8 or 10 frame boxes, though there are apparently others as well. {{9}}: But remember, _stacking_ does not mean they'll necessarily all be _aligned_ … that depends upon the dimensions of the box. {{10}}: Those with overhangs might _look_ as though they'll stack on boxes with flat interfaces, but they usually don't. I could show you the T-shirt 😞. {{11}}: That's another T-shirt I've got. {{12}}: The first often happens during demo inspections in the association apiary, and both can be features of inspections by beginners. {{13}}: Another T-shirt. {{14}}: And feet if you routinely wear sandals. {{15}}: Well, you would, wouldn't you? {{16}}: The volume of venom injected is much reduced as the post-sting pumping of the venom by the stinger is _not_ into you. {{17}}: Addis sell a Clip-Tight food storage container that is ideal for keeping the hive tool(s) in. {{18}}: I know, because I've bought one 😞. {{19}}: In the Northern Hemisphere … if you're in New Zealand it will be July and August I presume.

As introduced last week, the foulbroods are serious, notifiable, brood diseases. If diagnosed in your bees, their presence will necessitate the destruction of some or all infected colonies. Devastating for the bees … and the beekeeper. In the UK, American foulbrood (AFB) outbreaks are at a relatively low level, and — thankfully — slowly decreasing. In contrast, the incidence of European foulbrood (EFB) is either stable or increasing, perhaps due to changes in the dominant circulating strain over the last few years. I'll primarily focus on EFB for the remainder of this post, largely because outbreaks are at least 10-fold more frequent than AFB. However, since the mechanisms of transmission are the same — direct horizontal transmission between bees (_e.g._ during robbing), indirect horizontal transmission on fomites (inanimate objects that are contaminated _e.g._ hive tools, smokers or unsterilised boxes), or vertically from a parental colony to a swarm — most of this post _also_ applies to AFB. As the title indicates, this post is about swarms … specifically, it's about swarms originating from areas where foulbroods are established, or recently introduced. Apiary hygiene and beekeeper-mediated transmission (by moving or purchasing bees from infected areas, for example) are topics for another day. ## Endemic areas In some areas EFB is endemic. It appears every year, often causing multiple outbreaks and numerous individual cases {{1}}. If symptomatic — or, perhaps worse asymptomatic {{2}} — colonies from these regions swarm there is a reasonable chance that the disease will be spread. If you collect swarms, do cut-outs, or set out bait hives, either to boost your own stocks or to prevent 'lost' swarms from being a nuisance to others, you need to be aware of the risks. This applies _wherever_ you live. However, it is particularly important if you are in or near a region with foulbrood infections. In this post, I'm going discuss _'spillover'_ from hectads in which disease is present, and cover possible options available when collecting swarms from — or near — these areas. These options include euthanising swarms, rather than risk spreading disease to your bees. ## The problem The following image is an animation showing areas with EFB disease from 2016 to 2025. ❗ The image in the email newsletter is not animated (the file is too large), and simply displays cumulative outbreak data for a decade. Please view this post online after 6 pm GMT on 20/2/26 to see the animated image. Cumulative EFB outbreaks per hectad 2016-2025 The darker the colouration of individual squares (each is one hectad) the more outbreaks were identified in the year indicated. Watch carefully … there are several things that are obvious. 1. Disease is widespread across much of central and southern England, and eastern Scotland. 2. Some hectads 'light up' once and then never reappear. These are pretty randomly located and appear to be _sporadic_ outbreaks. 3. A limited number of hectads appear 2–3 times during the decade, either in sequential years, or separated by negative years, but they are generally not surrounded by _other_ coloured hectads in the same or subsequent years. 4. A small proportion hectads are (almost) always coloured, some darker than others. These are hectads in which disease is _endemic_. 5. Hectads with endemic disease tend to be surrounded by clusters of _other_ hectads with disease. These may have fewer outbreaks (paler colour) and disease may not be present in every year. Nevertheless, the clusters north of the River Tay, around York, in Norfolk, Kent and east Somerset, are reasonably obvious. Other clusters, albeit less extensive in area or duration, also exist. If you are within one of these clusters you _should_ be acutely aware of the disease risk in your area already. If you are adjacent to an endemic hectad, or its surrounding cluster — remember, you could walk from the centre of one hectad to another in about 2 hours, and bees probably forage (or rob) and swarm well beyond the hectad boundary — your bees _are_ at risk. ****Why not become a sponsor?**** Sponsors receive weekly posts on bees and beekeeping, ~50% of which are for sponsors __only__. Sponsorship costs less than a coffee and a slice of flapjack a month … or less for an annual membership. This post is only available to paying sponsors. Yes please … sign me up 😄 I specifically stated 'clusters' in the paragraph above. The overspill from endemic areas means that disease may (at least in some seasons) be widespread. Since disease is identified retrospectively, how can you mitigate the risks? Are you only at risk if you receive a warning email from the NBU? And, if you are at risk, what precautions can you take, and what can you do about swarms of unknown origin? Should you decide to euthanise a swarm, what methods are practical and relatively easy to undertake? ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

I was originally going to title this post _“It could be you”_ , but I wanted to include the word 'swarm' and hint that the source of a swarm is often not known. Most responsible beekeepers reading _The Apiarist_ probably conduct thorough, regular, inspections _and_ clip their queens. They apply swarm control promptly when it is needed. Those that don't, lose swarms {{1}}. I am not intending to discuss _ownership_ of bees or swarms. If they're in your hive, they're your bees. If they've swarmed, and left your land, then all bets are off. Anyone trying to claim ownership of a lost swarm, before it is safely hived again, is probably wasting their breath {{2}}. Instead, I intend to discuss whether you _want to own_ the swarms that you are asked to collect, or that you attract to the bait hives you set out. More specifically, I'll be discussing reasons why the _last thing_ you might want is ownership, but that _not taking responsibility_ for the swarm is either foisting the problem on someone else, or storing up problems for you (and other beekeepers) in the future. And that's because today I'm going to discuss pests and pathogens associated with swarms, covering _Varroa_ briefly (as it will always be present, and is trivial to deal with), and the foulbroods in more detail. 💡 This is a two-part post as there is too much to cover in one week. Foulbroods are a topic I've not covered previously, so there are few previous posts to cite. Be warned … at the end of part 2 of this topic I'm going to discuss euthanising swarms. Please do not bombard me with comments about _“saving the bees”_ {{3}}. **Honey bees do not need saving.** There are too many of them in some environments, and any swarms carrying foulbroods threaten the survival of _all_ colonies within range … managed or otherwise. But what is _'within range'_? That's what I'll first focus on, because you need to know that to determine whether you are at risk. Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure __The Apiarist__ continues to appear every week. Sign up as a sponsor ### This post is for subscribers only Become a member to get access to all content Subscribe now

<p>A female solitary bee, such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ceratina"><em>Ceratina</em></a><em> flavipes</em> (a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carpenter_bee">carpenter bee</a>), leads a busy life. She builds the nest, lays eggs, feeds the developing larvae, provisions the nest with stored pollen, defends it against parasitic wasps, and seals it securely for overwintering.</p><p>But, if you experimentally force two <em>C. flavipes</em> females to <em>share</em> a nest, they spontaneously divide the workload. One lays the eggs and guards the nest, and the other becomes non-reproductive and does the foraging.</p><p>A similar separation of roles is seen when ant queens are forced to share the same nest; one lays eggs, and the other does the next excavation.</p><p>These are examples of a reproductive <em>division of labour</em>. It doesn't evolve. Instead, it happens immediately. It is an innate feature of sociality.</p><p>Some readers may be familiar with this; if you mow the lawn, you probably don't also do the ironing. That's not a <em>reproductive</em> example (obviously!), but it <em>is</em> a division of labour.</p><p>It is thought that natural variation between the individual carpenter bees (or ants) accounts for this division of labour; one is more 'reproductive', the other more adapted for foraging.</p><p>Honey bees exhibit a similar reproductive division of labour; the queen lays the eggs, and the workers … do the work.</p><p>But there's a lot more work to do in a honey bee nest containing 30,000 workers, 10–20 kg of stores and pollen, thousands of developing larvae and pupae, and consisting of an architecturally complex 3D structure.</p><p>They achieve this by exhibiting an <em>additional</em> division of labour, an age-related one. Individual workers belong to one or more <em>temporal</em> or <em>behavioural</em> castes — nurses, guards, foragers — and these vary, both over time and between bees.</p><p>Scientists term this age-related division of labour <em>'temporal polyethism'</em> {{1}}.</p><p>It is essential for colony survival, but it is something that is disrupted during natural processes like swarming, or unnatural events like a Pagden artificial swarm, or populating mini-nucs.</p><p>Or, in fact, most major hive manipulations.</p><p>What accounts for temporal polyethism, how is it maintained, and how is it restored after these natural and unnatural events?</p> <div class="kg-card kg-cta-card kg-cta-bg-yellow kg-cta-minimal kg-cta-link-accent "> <div class="kg-cta-content"> <div class="kg-cta-content-inner"> <div class="kg-cta-text"> <p><span style="white-space:pre-wrap">Sponsors get more … posts, news, and information on the science, art, and practice of sustainable beekeeping. They also have access to over a decade of legacy posts, and ensure </span><i><em class="italic" style="white-space:pre-wrap">The Apiarist</em></i><span style="white-space:pre-wrap"> continues to appear every week.</span></p> </div> <a href="#/portal/signup" class="kg-cta-button kg-style-accent" style="color:#FFFFFF"> Sign up as a sponsor </a> </div> </div> </div> <p>Finally, is it relevant to practical beekeeping, or can we just safely (but gratefully) ignore it?</p><p>We <em>can</em> ignore it, but perhaps we shouldn't.</p><div class="gh-paid-content-notice"><h3>This post is for subscribers only</h3><p>Become a member to get access to all content</p><a class="gh-paid-content-cta" href="https://theapiarist.org/temporal-polyethism/#/portal/signup">Subscribe now</a></div>

Colony temperament is determined by their genetics, the amount you disturb them, and the environment. You must select the first of these when rearing queens. To do that well you need to minimise the second, and understand the third. This post discusses all three, and the role of pollen availability.

Large, larger, largest. Some comparisons of honey bee egg sizes relevant to queen rearing. All other things being equal, the largest eggs are not laid in queen cups.

Recent studies show that queens can lay larger eggs under certain environmental conditions. This provides a fascinating insight into honey bee biology, and provides new opportunities to rear bigger, better bees … and queens.

I'm prepared for a bumper honey crop in 2026. It might not happen, but my supers are ready 'just in case'. Thoughts on tidying and storing your precious drawn comb, inexpensive protection from wax moth damage, and some musings on whether the weather can be used to predict the onset of swarming.

Recent research suggests that there may be better protein components than brewer's yeast and soybean flour for use in pollen sub patties.

Peace on earth, and goodwill to all men … and women. Particularly those that have to put up with a partner who keeps bees.

What's hot, and what's not?

Time for the annual review of the season; the good, the bad, and the ugly … plus a sprinkling of science on 'enforced supersedure'. In summary … mostly good, a little bad, and only the yellow legged hornets were really 'ugly'.

How does the colony determine the queen should be superseded, and the implications this has for practical beekeeping? Plus the water preferences of honey bees, and some bumblebee-mimicking hoverflies.

An introduction to Varroxal, the new/old miticide available in the UK, and discussions on how it and FormicPro can be used control mites midseason. These provide the opportunity to avoid hard chemicals (like Apivar) and/or exploit late season nectars like heather and ivy.