Wednesday, 10th April. There’s a cold wind, and it’s on the early side to be opening hives, but I want to see how the bees are doing. So I open Queen Elizabeth’s hive. There are a lot of bees, and they’ve begun building extra comb above the crown board, so they must need more space.

So much so, in fact, that they have already prepared to swarm. Gah! This is early. I wasn’t expecting this. I thought I’d have a few more weeks yet.

But the evidence is clear. I find sealed and unsealed queen cells in the brood box. Quite a lot of them, on several frames.

I can’t see Queen Elizabeth, but I check through twice looking for her in case I’m still in time. I split the remaining colony into three. There are so many bees in the box that I’m hoping they have not yet swarmed, perhaps delayed by the previous day’s lashing rain. But no. I could’ve saved myself the time of searching through that box, by going straight to the pear tree which is a favourite for swarms in my apiary. Because there they are. Right at the top.

I check my other colonies. Fortunately, it does only seem to be Queen Elizabeth’s colony that are swarming. So that must be her lot up in the tree.

I set up an empty hive ready for them.

Then we commence Operation Pear Tree.

By this time, it’s evening, and even colder. That wind is rocking the pear tree around, and the bees are holding on tight. I climb up, and catch as many as I can in my trusty skep, which I then prop up on a sheet at the bottom of the tree. There are still quite a lot of bees in the pear tree. But I’m hopeful that I got the queen in the skep. Bees begin Nasonov fanning at the skep - emitting a homing signal to their sisters.

Skep, propped up with rock

Nasonov fanning

Bees flying to the skep

But the cold and the gathering dusk put an end to this act of our play. The bees won’t be able to regroup until the morning sun warms them enough to fly again.

Thursday, 11th April. Of course, the first thing I do is look out of the window, squinting at the top of the pear tree. It still seems to have a dark shape in it. It’s not until about half past eight that the bees get airborne. But then, encouragingly, they seem to be leaving the tree and gathering in the skep.

I’m supposed to be at work. Ideally I’d leave them a bit longer to more fully regroup…although not long enough to up sticks and swarm off to wherever they have in mind for a new home. But with most bees now in the skep, we go ahead with hiving them.

I dump them out of the skep, on to the sheet, in front of the empty hive.

And wait for the magic to start. I always find it incredible that this works. For the first few minutes, there is just a heap of confused bees on a sheet, climbing on the rock that I inadvertently left in their way (and there’s no chance of picking it up now!). But then it starts to happen…the bees begin to walk in to the hive.

Just a few at first, then more and more, becoming a steady stream.