Copper Bee Apiary

A garden apiary in Whittlesford, Cambridge, UK - honey bees and their beekeeper Hilary van der Hoff.

Comb Honey

This past summer, the bees in the Copper Hive worked on a new project: sections of comb honey.

Guess what people have got for Christmas!

I put the section rack on the hive in June. It has an array of individual boxes for the bees to build honeycomb in. Take off a full section rack and voilà, a set of neatly packaged comb honey sections, each in its own wooden box.

Although you can just cut up ordinary frames of honeycomb, or indeed press out squares of it using a bespoke device, I rather like the neatness and simplicity of having the bees build the comb directly in the individual wooden boxes. The outsides of the boxes get marked with beeswax and propolis, but that is the fate of all objects placed into beehives, reflecting the fact that honeycomb is made in the natural world not a sterile factory.

Also, wooden sections require precious little handling, so producing comb honey this way is neater and cleaner than manually slicing up the comb into blocks to fit in little plastic trays.

Further reading, eating and drinking

I melt honeycomb into a hot drink with lemon, and I hadn't given much thought to how to eat it. But then I read this question:

Most humble apologies for the following dumb question:

Are you supposed to eat the wax or spit it out? Do you swallow it? I assume if it is all mixed in with corn meal mush or oat meal, then you’re not going to be bothering much with separating the wax from the food in your mouth. But I don’t presume to know that, either.
I just filtered all the wax out of my comb honey and rendered it because it seemed like the “thing to do.” Next time, I’ll set at least a little aside for “eating” or whatever you are supposed to do with it in your mouth.

The person to whom this endearing question was asked is American Master Beekeeper, Rusty Burlew, who wrote about comb honey and how to eat it. Her recommendations in brief: spread it on hot, lightly buttered toast, chew it and swallow it. The wax will soften and blend deliciously with the honey and toast. Don't just eat the honeycomb directly because you'll end up with a lump of wax like chewing gum in your mouth. You can read Rusty's reminiscences and advice yourself on her website Honey Bee Suite. I've included her serving suggestion in the information leaflet that I include with each gift comb.

I hope you enjoy your honeycomb however you eat (or drink) it!

Wildflowers?

Seeds are germinating in my supposed wildflower meadow. Wildflower seeds maybe! Or weeds...if there's a difference. Wonder if they will survive the frosts...did they intend to germinate in December or do they think it's spring?

Drone, Forlorn

This morning was bright and sunny. I went outside to stand in the welcome November sun, and saw a large bee on the landing board of the Copper hive. It was a drone - a male bee - recognisable by his size, his fuzzy roundedness and his big eyes.

It's unlikely that he spent a cold, damp night on the landing board out of choice. He is reliant on his sisters - the worker bees who do all the foraging, make all the honey and run the hive - for food and shelter. The drone exists only to mate, but that is a spring/summer activity; there are no virgin queens looking to settle down and start a family at this time of year. So as the colony in autumn undergoes that process that corporate entities euphemistically refer to as "rationalisation and restructuring", a drone can find himself surplus to requirements. The ground in front of an autumn hive is littered with drones who have received their notices of redundancy, dying from exposure and starvation.

Let us hope that he had a nice summer, spending the long days lazing around, eating honey and flying out in the afternoon to drone congregation areas to hang around in the hope of meeting a nice young queen. Evidently he did not actually succeed in mating, since if he had he would not be here...mating being a terminal act for the drone in much the same way that stinging is terminal for the worker.

When the sun warmed the front of the hive, the workers came out but the drone lay still. I went out again later and he had gone. Perhaps he was still alive and went in to the hive or flew away. But I rather suspect he was carried off by an undertaker bee tidying up. It doesn't do to have dead bodies piling up by your front door.

Me and my drone - in summer

Me and my drone - in summer

Update 30 November 2016

It was cold last night. Here on the Copper hive landing board, two drones and a pollen forager have been caught by the frost.

My book says that all drones are gone from a hive by September. Evidently that is not the case for the Copper hive. It may be that the strength of this colony has allowed it to support more drones for longer. But probably the book is just oversimplified.

By the time September comes, all the drones will have been forcibly ejected from the colony by the workers.

- The BBKA Guide to Beekeeping, 2012. Davis & Cullum-Kenyon

Writings, images and sound recordings are by the beekeeper unless otherwise indicated. All rights reserved.

Logo artwork © 2015-2020 Susan Harnicar Jackson. All rights reserved.