Agriculture Reference
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eachwasarchitecturally engineered withuniquefeatures, likeventilation chambers and
two brood boxes. William told me they were called Kerkhof hives. Some were fancy,
with two or four entrances on all sides. They looked similar to a honeybee condomini-
um. I appreciated the unique designs, and the idea of having highly stylized beehives in
my own yard was very appealing.
Everybeekeeperhastheirowntricksofthetrade,andIsoonlearnedtherewasnever
only one way to do things in the beeyard. William donned his veil and announced we
weregoingintothefirsthive.Hedidnotusethetypicalsmokerandfiretopuffhisbees,
but instead used a squirt bottle of brown liquid known as wet smoke . Opening the cover
of the first hive, William gave a single squirt to the top of the exposed frames. The li-
quid smelled something like barbecue sauce, and it did the trick, same as the traditional
smoker. Apparently, a little wet smoke goes a long way. Using this handy liquid was
quicker than lighting and keeping the flame going inside a smoker, and since we had
more than just a few hives to visit, using it was one way to save time.
William then asked me to take out the first frame and tell him what was going on in
thishive.Icouldseethat thiswasalittle test forme,andIrosetotheoccasion. Confid-
ently, I began to pry up the first frame with the end of my hive tool. It was a challenge,
as the frame was thoroughly glazed over with beeswax and propolis, which was typical
for this time of year. William told me he harvested every single nugget of propolis for
making into alcohol-based tinctures. So we scraped and scraped the fragrant, gummy
propolis into a jar filled with alcohol, which would slowly melt the propolis down into
a liquid state and make it usable. After letting me make a few attempts to lift the sticky
frame from the hive, William lent a hand and began prying one side of the frame up
withhishivetool.Ididthesameonmyside.Allthisshimmyingmadethebeesabitde-
fensive, but I took a deep breath and remained focused on the task. Up came the frame,
dripping with brilliant honey and burr comb—a lovely waxy mess. Buzzing contently
while Igrabbedthewholeframe fromWilliam, thebeeslicked thehoneyfromthecells
that had been punctured open as the frame made its way out. I held the frame properly,
by the corners and at a five-degree angle to the sun. There was capped honey along the
topoftheframeandmuchmoreinthetopcorners.Nearthehoneywasbrightlycolored
bee pollen, packed neatly inside other wax cells. Tacky propolis lined the sides of the
frame, put there by the bees as insulation in preparation for the future cold weather.
I was able to point out the difference between capped brood cells of the worker bees
in the center of the frame and the cells of the drones, with their distinctive raised-wax
cappings, at the bottom of the frame. In between I spotted tiny eggs at the very bottom
of a few cells; they were floating in a clear liquid that, William told me, was the royal
jelly.AfewcellshadO-shapedlarvaeinthemandsoonwouldbecappedoverbywork-
er bees. William smiled. This hive appeared to be healthy.
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