It Was Just Meant to "Bee!"

Jim and his vineyard assistant, Will, came running into my office the other day all excited!

"Will found a beehive in the vineyard! Can you move it?" Jim asked.

Wow. Wowwowwowwowwow. Ok, so I've had multiple opportunities to move wild hives before through some other local beekeepers, but haven't had a chance to learn because I've been at Pepperdine every single time something like this has come up. Now, just a few days out of school, and there's a hive of Riverbench bees just for me! Ecstatic!

Immediately I emailed and called my local bee resources, asking for instructions, advice and help. They responded with all of the above and, most surprisingly of all, seemed confident I could handle it alone. The hive was small and completely exposed, just hanging right off of a vine. They all talked me through various methods, and I decided to go for it.

Last night was the night (you want to move them at night so most of them are "home"). I suited up, got my supplies, and drove out to examine the hive. With just the light of Jim's trusty headlamp, I found that the hive was actually attached to three separate grape clusters. I started dissecting, cutting the clusters one by one. The hive buzzed but not a single bee moved.

Then the action started. Once I cut away one cluster, the hive became unstable and started to fall. I got the bucket underneath and caught it just in time. A few more clips and most of the rest of the pieces fell in, too. The bees remained relatively calm until I covered the bucket with a lid to seal them in. The buzzing that ensued was angry and not just a little terrifying.

I carefully transported them in the backseat of my car, then dumped them into their new home. About 15,000 bees were at this time flying all around me, landing all over me. My gloves were black, completely coated in them. The light buzzing sensation on my hands was pleasant, though I was still a little nervous about hurting them or messing things up.

I closed up the hive, let the rest of them fly off, and left the scene. They were still there this morning, buzzing around and holding my bucket hostage, but they seem to be settling into their new home. Their view is really gorgeous, actually, overlooking Block 44 and the San Ramon Chapel.

Successful bee extraction #1. (I hope.) That enough excitement for this week.

Note: I'm an idiot and didn't take pictures. I thought I'd have time but things got crazy pretty quickly. Next time.

'Cause Riverbench bees are the best

Some people like massage. Others like a good bubble bath. Some people sit by the fire with a glass of wine and a good book (actually, that works for me, too). But in my opinion, relaxing is all about having thirty thousand little honey bees buzzing around me at once.

Before you try committing me to the looney bin, think on this. I just so happen to have the nicest bees in the world. I first brought them to Riverbench two years ago after being trained as an amateur beekeeper. My mentor, David, had kindly offered to put my new bees into my hive for me since I was out of town on a business trip when they came in. This, however, involved a 45 minute drive from his place to Riverbench, where my new set of 10,000 buzzing babies was put inside the car and strapped down. We went early in the morning while they were still sleeping and cold. David’s advice for if we hit a bump and the hive came loose in the car? GET OUT.

Luckily, this perilous drive ended well and my bees were happily installed in their new home in the vineyard, where they’ve been thriving ever since. And since that first day in my bee suit, I’ve never worn it again because I have the friendliest bees in the world. I don’t use a smoker, even to open the hive, because they don’t swarm or sting. I’ve taken guests out there to see them and even touch them on the comb, like in this picture, which is one of the most earth-shattering experiences. Their little vibrating bodies are warm and friendly, and give you the most amazing rush touching them.

Next spring I’m looking to convince Jim, our ever-patient vineyard manager, to let me add a few more hives around the place. You can never have enough friendly bees.

For your pure enjoyment, I'm going to post the picture below, which was taken the first time I had to wear full gear with my bees. Sometimes I put it on just for kicks, so the people in the tasting room wonder what's up. I know, I look like I'm in space, but I'll endure the relentless teasing I'm bound to get.

Inspired

There's nothing like surrounding yourself with inspiring people to make you feel, well, inspired.

And for the past week, that's exactly what I've done.

I took an exam a few weeks ago, and received feedback from my professor recently. Since the tests are graded blindly, he had written something to the effect of: "I don't know who you are, but please tell me, because you are an outstanding writer." On exam essay questions?! For realz?

Those who know me know I'm terrible at compliments, and this one was no exception and caught me completely off-guard. Sure, I like writing. But only in the past few years have I thought about actually being decent at it.

Which took me to the next thought: I have so many amazing things to say about Riverbench and the wine country lifestyle, and I'm not sharing them because I've always treated this blog like my own personal cheese making complaint platform.

So from here on out, things change. This becomes the official Riverbench blog, containing accounts from my exciting sales trip visits, my "apprenticeship" with winemaker Clarissa Nagy this fall, winery updates and goodies, and, of course, the ongoing saga of being an amateur cheesemaker and beekeeper on the property.

I can't wait to share it. And Dr. W, (along with the others I have just been ignoring for a while) thanks for being my inspiration!

Buzz

E. was kind enough to get up at 6AM with me this past weekend to pick up my bees. He was pretty laid back about it, even tucking his jeans into his socks as I recommended, since he doesn't have any bee gear. We picked up the box while the bees were still sleeping; you never would have known that that thing had bees in it, honestly. It was bungeed down in the back of the car, but E. drove pretty carefully all the way to the vineyard. My instructor had warned me that if the top came off, we'd better GET OUT FAST!

We dropped off the bees, I peeked inside and saw only a handful of bees...not much action. Oh well.

Later in the day, though, I came back to add some syrup to the hive, and sure enough, they were buzzing all over! It was truly beautiful.

This morning, I rushed out to make a few little adjustments and add the second super (which is a the box on top of the main hive). I noticed some of my combs have fallen down a little bit, so the bees are building combs of very interesting shapes and designs. NOT what was planned, but I suppose it will still work. Each comb I pulled out was absolutely COVERED with bees.

The thing is, I thought I'd be nervous and rushed, afraid of the stings. But I'm not. I love being around them, and having them land all over me. They don't seem to mind when I poke and prod, and the buzzing is almost hypnotizing. I love being around them- in fact even right now I can't wait to go back out. I could spend hours with them, looking at the comb shapes and watching them work. They're truly amazing little animals, and I can't wait to get to know them better.

Part 3: Honeybees

Ring, ring. My dad calling me on a sunny, perfect Saturday morning.

Dad: “What’s up, La?”

Me: “On my way to my first beekeeping meeting! What’s up with you?”

Pause. 1…….2…….3………

Dad: “You’re going to mess with bees?”

Me: “Well, it’s just always something I’ve been curious about, and I met this local beekeeper who does a type of class, so I thought I’d try it.”

Dad: Another pause. “Did you know I did that once?” My dad has an organic farm in North Carolina, where he grows amazing German Johnson tomatoes, shoots birds, and, apparently, once raised a hive.

Must be something in the genes.