Monday, November 05, 2007

Nine bean rows and a hive...

A few weeks ago, as the summer started to wane, we went up to Coppull, near Chorley, to visit Mike Beazer, the secretary of the Ormskirk and Croston beekeepers branch.

http://www.ormskirkbeekeepers.co.uk/

We did this because I am thinking about keeping bees as a hobby-cum-small business and one of the things I have never done is get close to bees in their natural habit. There doesn’t seem to be much point in starting something if the first time you take the lid off a hive and a few bees buzz round you run for cover. So it seemed sensible to get in touch with a beekeeper and get him to show me what’s what.

Although Coppull isn’t that far from us, it seemed further as, after turning left at the huge Frederick’s ice cream shop, we made our way along the country lanes and back roads. The weather was perfect, a sunny and bright autumnal afternoon, the leaves turning different shades of yellow, orange and russet, but with the air slightly crisp, hinting at the winter that lies not so very far ahead.

After we’d (yes, much to Agnieszka’s surprise there was a suit spare for her to use) donned some protective clothing: green bee-suits with elasticated ankles and wrists, and the all-important veil, plus boots and gloves, we drove to the field where the hives were.

We were advised to zip up before we got out of the car, which we duly did and I was surprised to see the hives were just sitting at the edge of a field. There they were in a little row.

After taking off the roof of the hive I was allowed to inspect the combs of honey and I was really surprised to see how quiet the bees were. A few flew around and I was slightly nervous about one that decided to hover around my mouth but I was told they were just curious. I resisted the impulse to bat them away and instead tried to focus on what I was seeing and was being told. It was amazing to see the bees at work, concentrating on doing their jobs and taking pretty much no notice of us.
As it wasn’t too hot, despite the sun, we weren’t allowed to take the hives completely apart, but it gave me enough of an idea to know that I would like to keep bees in the future. I’d also like an allotment but that seems to be almost impossible in the current climate. Since going to Coppull I’ve been busy reading the definitive book on bees – A guide to bees and honey by Ted Hooper – and have found ever more questions to ask. Talking to other beekeepers has left me with the knowledge that it will be another year before I get to start, having first to go through a practical course, a theory course and a full year of shadowing someone else in order to understand what I should do and when, and how to look after bees properly. I’m keen to start, but understand how important it is to learn things in the right order, and I’m already looking forward to January when a course will start. No doubt there’ll be more on this…

The title of this post is, of course, from the William Butler Yeats poem The Lake Isle of Innisfree, the first verse of which is:

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

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