This year, I have four straw hives of varying sizes and shapes in my bee yard, plus a log hive and a Cathedral hive (a style of top bar).
In early spring, I settled a skep on top top of one of my top bar hives, and moved the follower board forward to tightly restrict the bee space. My hope was that the bees would move up into the empty skep and I could retire the top bar hive.
I also set a skep atop a spring nuc I had purchased in hopes of the same upward migration. Two months later, neither colony had shown any interest in moving up. I knew I had to come up with a new plan to move the bees outward and upward, so I did some bee math and came up with this solution:
Once each colony swarmed, I would wait about 22 days for all of the old brood to hatch out. The swarm leaves behind a full complement of honey and brood for the remaining bees, as well as a host of queen cells.
I figured that 22 days post-swarm, I would find nothing in the combs but bees and nectar. At that time, I felt, I could safely and gently move them as a “shook swarm” up into the skeps, losing no brood. I would leave the old combs beside the hives for the bees to clean up and place in their new skep homes.
Gobnait, my top bar hive was the first to swarm, and I put that date on my calendar. Twenty-two days later, I invited some beekeeping friends over to facilitate the “shook swarm.” My hope was that I could “drum” the bees from the hive into the skep, by tilting the skep on its side and rapping or drumming on the top bar body.
I’ve watched several videos of folks doing just that, and it was fascinating film: The drumming begins, and about ten minutes later, bees pour out from one hive into the other like water. So I was very hopeful.
My friend Thea and I got everything set up, and set to drumming on the side of the hive. The bees remained calm and disinterested. We kept drumming. Five minutes, ten, fifteen. Not a bee showed any understanding of what we were asking of them.
Thea and I put our heads together. Perhaps we could drum them in one frame at a time? I fixed a warm piece of comb into the top of the skep, lifted out one full frame of bees, placed the lip of comb into the skep and began tapping on the wooden frame top with my hive tool. Like water they flowed!
Thea and I moved one frame after another to the skep entrance and slowly encouraged all the bees to enter with our tapping. It was slow going, but it worked!
Bees filled the air, but when they alighted, they headed for the skep instead of the top bar. Their vigorous fanning told me the queen was in her new home. As I had predicted, the frames were all empty of brood but for two drone cells. The rest of the combs contained nectar stores.
New virgin queens take awhile to start laying. I did not see the queen in our relocation process, but I suspect she will begin laying soon. It can take a virgin queen more than six weeks to start laying, in my experience, so I am not one to get excited if there are not eggs being laying immediately.
Thea and I set the nectar filled combs on a chair next to the skep, turned the skep right side up, and set it carefully onto its base. I’ve used my old Warre boxes as step stands, placing lots of mulch in the bottoms to create an “ecofloor” for the skeps.
Hives are, ideally, a conglomeration of hundreds if not thousands of other beneficial creatures, yeasts, bacteria, and other organisms working together for hive health. I find ant nests, earwigs, springtails, wax moths, pillbugs, and more in these floorings, which serve much like a tree hive floor.
Gobnait began bringing in pollen to her new skep several days later, and is active and growing now. Mission accomplished!
Raven hive swarmed a few weeks later. I marked the date on my calendar and again invited friends to help, watch, and learn. A few days ago, Thea, Deb, Jane, and I set up our tools next to Raven. Our plan was to lift the Langstroth, plastic frames up to the lip of the skep and commence tapping.
Raven was a much larger colony—even post swarm—than Gobnait had been. All the combs were flush with layers upon layers of bees. I suspect she may have been planning yet another swarm. Bees launched into the air around us. They were curious, but not at all aggressive, so I worked as I usually do, without any gear.
We tapped. And we tapped. And tapped. Raven had no interest in moving off her loaded combs, even though there was not a smidgen of brood anywhere.
So we turned to Plan B: We began gently feathering (yes, we used turkey feathers) the bees off the combs and into the skep. This, of course, put more bees into the air, but they remained calm. We proceeded frame by frame. I would remove a frame, sit down to look for the queen, and when I did not find her, Deb would take the frame and feather it into the skep.
I never did find the queen because I rarely go looking for her. If you are often looking for queens in your hives, you will get an “eye” for her, which I don’t have. I look instead for evidence of her: eggs, larvae, and brood. If she wants to stay secretive, that’s fine by me.
It took us considerable time to complete the move, but we managed it without injuring any bees. As with Gobnait, I turned Raven skep right side up, set her on her stand, and placed the empty frames near the hive so they could take that precious liquid back into the hive.
The swarms from Raven and Gobnait are also in skeps now, and all seem to be thriving. I will wait about a month to turn the skeps on end and see how they are building out. If any reveal a queen failure, I’ll see if I can find another swarm to add to the hive.
This is such a new adventure in beekeeping for me, and so far, I’m pleased with what I’m seeing. Gobnait’s swarm—skepped only six weeks ago—sent out a lovely swarm a few days ago. I peeked inside this hive named Genesis and saw long white combs hanging three-quarters down the length of the skep! The rims of the skep are being coated with red propolis. All signs of a happy, thriving hive!