Don’t Wake the Bees
From: The
Journal of Tim
Where:
Moravia
When:
Last Summer
On
Tuesday night, Ivana asked me if I would help her dad with the bees. Since
I was reading a book, I wasn't listening and said sure.
On Wed night at 9pm, she reminded me that I was helping her Dad the next
morning with the bees. It would be her dad, a friend and me.
Ivana wouldn't be coming (Bad sign) and we would be leaving at 5 am (very
bad sign).
When you
live with your parents or anyone's parents, I realize you should help in
some way around the house. My parents have done this kind of thing for
years: Help carry 9 bags of mulch?
Sure! Tim can do it. Unload firewood? No problem! Tim would love
to. Don't even get my younger brother, Christopher, started on this
issue.
After
staying for 2 weeks with the Stastnas, I was expecting to help around the
house. However, I was thinking of going to the store to do some light
shopping (more along the lines of buying the newspaper), raking leaves, or
shoveling snow. Well, it's July so the last two are out. The other just
isn't enough.
I guess the three days of dish drying or helping to can 65 jars of pickles
didn't cut it.
Wed at 9:10pm, the night before I am going to help Ivana's dad with the
bees, it hits me. My ability to speak Czech is lacking. I know the word
for honey (med) and bees (uvcely). That's it. After a year in this
country, I am still getting the basics. I don't know any of the following
phrases or questions:
-How many hives do you have?
-I don't know how many stung me.
-No, I am not allergic.
-I don't need an injection.
-No, I don't think I will black out yet.
-What do you mean you couldn't find the stinger?
I am getting a little worried. I ask Ivana to talk to her dad so I have a
clearer picture of our bee activities. In the Ivana/Dad conversation, I
learn the following: wear long sleeve shirt and trousers (check), wake at
4am (sigh), and we leave by 4:55. We are going to pick up Ivana's dad's
friend (sorry, I don't remember the name). Ivana's dad says he'll tell me
what to do. He doesn't seem worried. So, I go to bed and fall
asleep.
I guess with bees, you have to catch them off guard, just before dawn. I
wake early, we eat and go. We pick up Mr. What's-His-Name and drive out to
the hives. It didn't really surprise me that the hives are out in the
middle of nowhere about 3 km outside of town. Of course, we have to drive
through muddy tracks with puddles. In the back seat, I am fighting to stay
awake and praying, "Please don't get stuck, please don't get
stuck."
We arrive at the hives. 5:10 am.
At this part of the story, I am ready for Mr. Stastna and his friend to
jump back in the car, drive off and leave me in the woods. It would be the
perfect joke. They don't, so they really must need my help.
So, here I am in the woods with bees, mosquitoes (and god only knows what
else) at 5:12 in the morning. I am wearing gloves, a bee hat (netting
which helps to trap the mosquitoes in with you, but keeps the bees out).
Of course, it's raining.
Yes, just for the curious few, if you sneeze in a bee hat, it is really
gross.
We walk up this path to the hives. Bees are still asleep. Phase 1 of the
plan complete.
Now, the surprising thing is Mr. Stastna had a lot of hives padlocked or
chained together, making them difficult to steal. I thought, ‘What idiots would
steal a hive or any related bee equipment?’ Honey isn't that expensive.
But, I guess I don't have the criminal mind. There could be rival beekeepers,
a black market bee industry, or thieves from nearby Slovaki.
Phase 2 - Unlock the hives and prepare the smoke pot. This is a metal type
of can with a spout and an accordion attached to it that causes the smoke
to come out. The smoke is made by
burning brown pieces of something (sorry, I don't know the name. I hope
none of you are reading this story for educational purposes).
Over the next 1hr 45minutes, we switched boxes and trays of honeycomb from
three different hives. We smoked 'em out and used feathers to clean the
trays of honeycomb. I stood around, helped carry boxes, and stacked trays and
generally did more good than harm.
While watching Mr. Stastna surrounded by dozens of bees, I couldn't help
thinking, ‘Real men work with bees.’ He
showed no fear. Sometimes, he didn't use gloves or a hat. It was amazing
to see him knock huge swarms of bees back into their hives.
Me, if I wasn't trying to keep my eyes barely open, I would have been more
nervous about all of them flying around me. Probably, if I had known in
advance, I would have had a can of bug spray (I know this is kind of
stupid, as you normally don't want to kill your worker bees) or I
would have turned the bug spray into some kind of hand held flamethrower.
Thank god that I hadn't had my coffee.
At 6am, we celebrated almost finishing our work by each having a shot of
slivovice (55% alcohol--I love the stuff, even though I believe it can
clean rust off of tank treads). Also, I learned Real Men drink from the
same filthy shot glass.
While my vision cleared, we loaded a few more boxes into the car.
At 6:30 am, we celebrated with a second shot. I was moving very slowly by
this time. We finished loading the car and went home.
Upon arrival, Mr. Stastna asked if I had been stung. Nope, I was fine. He
told me that today was a slow day. He
had only been stung 12 times, but his friend (who later found ticks on his
legs) went to the hospital.
But by this time, whether it was the sleep or alcohol (I don't know), I
just nodded and went into the kitchen for a coffee and to prepare myself
to harvest the honey.
You can email Tim at Tim@CosmicGeppetto.com.
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