The honey is off, the extractor is washed, and there's a general feeling that the year's work is done. It isn't. What happens in September and October decides whether a colony is alive in March, and it's the least glamorous and most important work of the beekeeping calendar.
Here's what autumn looks like at our four sites.
Dealing With Varroa
First priority, and it's not negotiable. Varroa mites weaken bees by feeding on them and by spreading viruses, and a colony carrying a heavy mite load going into winter will very likely not come out the other side.
The bees that matter now are the winter bees — the long-lived generation reared in late summer that has to survive five or six months rather than the usual six weeks. If those bees are damaged as developing brood, the colony fails slowly through the winter no matter how much food it has. So treatment has to happen early enough to protect them, not as a January afterthought.
Monitoring first, treatment according to the load, and a proper look at the result afterwards. Guesswork is how colonies are lost.
Feeding, and Knowing When to Stop
We take honey, so we owe the bees a replacement. Once the supers are off, colonies get fed syrup until they have enough stores to see them through — a strong colony needs a serious weight of food, considerably more than most people first expect.
The trick is timing. Feed too late and the bees can't process and cap the syrup properly, which leaves it liable to ferment. Feed the wrong strength and you make more work for them than necessary. By late October the window is closing, and after that it's fondant on top of the cluster if there's any doubt.
The simplest check is hefting — lifting the back of the hive to feel the weight. It's crude, it's subjective, and after a few seasons it's remarkably reliable.
The Donegal Problem: Damp and Wind
Cold doesn't kill colonies here. Damp does, and so does the Atlantic.
Bees cluster together and generate their own heat, and they cope with cold far better than most people assume. What they can't cope with is condensation dripping back down onto the cluster. So ventilation matters more than insulation, and a hive needs to breathe even while it's sheltered.
Wind is the other one. Every hive gets strapped down, and it stays strapped. A roof lifted off in a January gale is a dead colony by morning, and we've all learned that lesson at least once.
The Small Things
Mouseguards on before the weather turns, because a mouse in a hive over winter is a catastrophe. Entrances reduced so a weakened colony can defend itself against wasps and robbing. Equipment cleaned and stored properly, since disease travels on dirty kit as readily as anything else.
Then, mostly, leave them alone. Opening a hive in winter costs the bees heat they can't easily replace.
Read more about our apiary sites, or see what the hives produced this year.
0 comments