Aum Amriteshwaryai Namah
On Saturday morning, Nigama and I prepared ourselves as usual for the hive inspections. We donned our white bee suits and zipped our face protectors shut. We gathered all the needed tools and prepped the smoker (see video below). But both of us felt tense about what we might find in the weaker hive. Nigama had called the Ontario Beekeepers' Association during the week for advice, and what she heard from the specialist there was not hopeful.
First, we took a look at Hive 2, the stronger hive, and the good news is that it continues to thrive. A constant stream of foraging bees exit and enter, bringing with them pollen packed around their legs. This is a signal that they are raising young, as pollen is food for larvae. They are also starting to use the lower opening on the hive instead of just coming through the top one.
We approached the weaker hive with trepidation. This was our first colony, started in 2009. Three weeks ago when we checked it, there was a decent-sized cluster of bees inside -- about as big as a basketball. They were sluggish compared to Hive 2, but Nigama and I figured they were simply waking up to spring a little more slowly. But last week, that bundle had shrunk to about the size of a grapefuit. When a cluster becomes too small, the bees can't generate enough heat inside the hive to stay alive.
As Nigama lifted the lid, my heart withered. No movement whatsoever within. Some of the bees actually appeared to be frozen in midstep. To me, it looked as though they could resume whatever they had been doing at any moment. They just simply stopped. I immediately thought of Amma who has said:
As long as there is enough strength in these hands to reach out to those who come to her, to place her hand on a crying person’s shoulder, Amma will continue to give darshan. To lovingly caress people, to console and wipe their tears until the end of this mortal frame—this is Amma’s wish.
Bees are beings completely dedicated to the seva of taking care of their hive, even to the last moment.
This may sound dramatic, but both Nigama and I immediately had the sense that we were staring into a coffin. Our first reaction was to say the Mahamrityunjaya Mantra along with Loka Samastha Sukhino Bhavantu.
The relationship we have developed with our bees is significant. We have built them a home, fed them, and given them medicine to protect them from parasites and disease. We have watched them grow and change. They, having stung us a few times, have surely observed us become more relaxed and confident around them. To have a hive die truly is a loss. To be honest, I'm still working through my feelings about it.
We know that winter survival rates have been dreadfully low over the past few years in Canada. And this last season in Ontario, people have lost anywhere from 30 to 60% of their hives. April was a really tough month for the bees with warm, sunny days and then sudden blasts of snow and wind. But still, one can't help but wonder what we could've done to save them.
So what happened? Our best guess is that the queen died some weeks ago. No queen means no eggs being laid, and that means no new generation of bees coming up to replace the old ones. Dampness and an illness known as nosema could have also played a part.
We took Hive 1 apart and loaded it into our blue, fibre glass gardening trolley. Eventually, we rolled it over to the compost heap near the garden in order to clean out the corpses and other debris. Nigama felt called to attend satsang so she could take part in the singing. At the same time, she didn't want to leave me alone with this work. I felt that on a day of sadness such as this one, it was important for her to be in satsang. I didn't mind doing the job by myself, so I told her to go ahead. It was very important to me to get the cleaning done quickly. Kind of like burying your loved one within 24 hours.
I am so lucky, though, in that Maala offered to help me, even though she isn't on the bee committee. As we stood in the setting sun, picking tiny bodies and wings out of wax and honey, I knew there was no way I could have done the work alone. It was simply too hard, both physically and emotionally. I had no idea it would be that hard.
By the end of the day, I was comforted by Nigama's ideas for next steps. There was a lot of honey and pollen left in the frames of the hive. Both the physical structure and that store of bee food can be used for a new colony. In fact, Hive 2 is so strong it looks like we may be able to split it in order to start the new hive. We'll just need to buy a new queen. Looking at the abandoned base structure from Hive 1, Nigama said, "To me that is a symbol of potential. It's like a marker to the hive that died, but also points to what is coming next."
Jai Ma!
On Saturday morning, Nigama and I prepared ourselves as usual for the hive inspections. We donned our white bee suits and zipped our face protectors shut. We gathered all the needed tools and prepped the smoker (see video below). But both of us felt tense about what we might find in the weaker hive. Nigama had called the Ontario Beekeepers' Association during the week for advice, and what she heard from the specialist there was not hopeful.
First, we took a look at Hive 2, the stronger hive, and the good news is that it continues to thrive. A constant stream of foraging bees exit and enter, bringing with them pollen packed around their legs. This is a signal that they are raising young, as pollen is food for larvae. They are also starting to use the lower opening on the hive instead of just coming through the top one.
 |
| Bees of Hive 2 using the lower opening |
We approached the weaker hive with trepidation. This was our first colony, started in 2009. Three weeks ago when we checked it, there was a decent-sized cluster of bees inside -- about as big as a basketball. They were sluggish compared to Hive 2, but Nigama and I figured they were simply waking up to spring a little more slowly. But last week, that bundle had shrunk to about the size of a grapefuit. When a cluster becomes too small, the bees can't generate enough heat inside the hive to stay alive.
As Nigama lifted the lid, my heart withered. No movement whatsoever within. Some of the bees actually appeared to be frozen in midstep. To me, it looked as though they could resume whatever they had been doing at any moment. They just simply stopped. I immediately thought of Amma who has said:
As long as there is enough strength in these hands to reach out to those who come to her, to place her hand on a crying person’s shoulder, Amma will continue to give darshan. To lovingly caress people, to console and wipe their tears until the end of this mortal frame—this is Amma’s wish.
Bees are beings completely dedicated to the seva of taking care of their hive, even to the last moment.
 |
| Hive 2 is on the left and Hive 1 is on the right |
This may sound dramatic, but both Nigama and I immediately had the sense that we were staring into a coffin. Our first reaction was to say the Mahamrityunjaya Mantra along with Loka Samastha Sukhino Bhavantu.
The relationship we have developed with our bees is significant. We have built them a home, fed them, and given them medicine to protect them from parasites and disease. We have watched them grow and change. They, having stung us a few times, have surely observed us become more relaxed and confident around them. To have a hive die truly is a loss. To be honest, I'm still working through my feelings about it.
We know that winter survival rates have been dreadfully low over the past few years in Canada. And this last season in Ontario, people have lost anywhere from 30 to 60% of their hives. April was a really tough month for the bees with warm, sunny days and then sudden blasts of snow and wind. But still, one can't help but wonder what we could've done to save them.
So what happened? Our best guess is that the queen died some weeks ago. No queen means no eggs being laid, and that means no new generation of bees coming up to replace the old ones. Dampness and an illness known as nosema could have also played a part.
 |
| The base where Hive 1 stood |
We took Hive 1 apart and loaded it into our blue, fibre glass gardening trolley. Eventually, we rolled it over to the compost heap near the garden in order to clean out the corpses and other debris. Nigama felt called to attend satsang so she could take part in the singing. At the same time, she didn't want to leave me alone with this work. I felt that on a day of sadness such as this one, it was important for her to be in satsang. I didn't mind doing the job by myself, so I told her to go ahead. It was very important to me to get the cleaning done quickly. Kind of like burying your loved one within 24 hours.
I am so lucky, though, in that Maala offered to help me, even though she isn't on the bee committee. As we stood in the setting sun, picking tiny bodies and wings out of wax and honey, I knew there was no way I could have done the work alone. It was simply too hard, both physically and emotionally. I had no idea it would be that hard.
By the end of the day, I was comforted by Nigama's ideas for next steps. There was a lot of honey and pollen left in the frames of the hive. Both the physical structure and that store of bee food can be used for a new colony. In fact, Hive 2 is so strong it looks like we may be able to split it in order to start the new hive. We'll just need to buy a new queen. Looking at the abandoned base structure from Hive 1, Nigama said, "To me that is a symbol of potential. It's like a marker to the hive that died, but also points to what is coming next."
Jai Ma!
It helped to sing bhajans while we were cleaning the hives.....in a way, we had a satsang with the souls of the dead bees. Thank you for allowing me to help. Om Lokah Samastah Sukino Bhavantu
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