Day 14: The Disappearing Act and the Birth of The Vanguard

Nature is beautiful, nature is resilient, and sometimes, nature makes absolutely zero sense.

I went out this morning to check on the grand newspaper merge between The Sentry and The Chalet, and walked right into a ghost story. All the bees from The Sentry have completely disappeared. Seriously. The newspaper wasn't even chewed through, but the top box was completely abandoned, save for a random handful of confused bees. My best guess? They found the pinholes poked in the paper, marched downstairs to explore, and decided to just move in permanently without bothering to chew the rest of the barrier.

But the plot thickens down in The Chalet. Despite inheriting those extra bees, it is still a tragic, sad situation. There are absolutely no fresh eggs or young larvae anywhere in sight. It is just a meager retinue of worker bees and a bunch of lazy drones feasting on my precious pollen and nectar-filled frames. The queen is still walking around in there, but she is completely failing. It’s tough to watch a colony flail, but sometimes that’s just how the apiary rolls, and you have to accept the losses. I am currently leaving her be until I decide how to redistribute those beautiful, wasted resources... which feels like a future blog post.

But the day wasn't all doom and gloom! In fact, I hit a massive milestone over at The Keep.

I took a peek into the center frame, and right there in the middle of a bustling cluster was a gorgeous, fat, tiger-striped queen bee! The workers were marching into the hive with massive, brightly colored pollen pants, and nurse bees had their heads buried deep in the cells—the ultimate indicator that she is viable, mated, and laying.

This is a massive, proud moment for me. The Keep was a split I made from The Vault back on April 21st, which means I successfully raised a brand-new queen bee right in my own yard for the very first time! It is the coolest feeling in the world.

With success sweetening the air, I turned my attention back to The Workhorse Queen. She’s been sitting in that cramped plastic nuc box, and with our Wisconsin nights still chilling down into the mid-40s, I started worrying about her keeping warm.

So, I made an executive decision: I officially moved The Workhorse into that empty, heavily insulated Anel hive box (What used to be The Sentry). This is officially her third home of the season! She is single-handedly—or should I say, single-abdomenly—building out my entire apiary.

The high-density insulation of the Anel box is going to keep her tiny new queendom perfectly cozy. Funnily enough, a massive wave of her old workers from The Ranch must have smelled her royal pheromones leaking from the box, because they completely swarmed the entrance, begging to get back in. I let them march right on through the gates to help her build out her new empire.

I am currently contemplating using the leftovers from the sad Chalet hive to do a final mega-merge into this new box so those workers have a purpose. But honestly? I feel too terrible squashing the failing Chalet queen just yet. Even if she isn't successful, she is still royalty, and my beekeeper conscience isn't quite ready to pull the trigger on her execution. So... queue another future blog post!

To close out a beautiful day, a look at the entrance of The Ranch showed massive, heavy loads of pollen pouring in. It's a fantastic sign that they are successfully in the process of re-queening themselves and channeling their massive workforce into drawing out gorgeous honey wax.

We have officially christened this newly revived Anel hive The Vanguard. Led by our rockstar, apiary-building Workhorse Queen, they are holding down the front lines of the yard.

The Moral of the Day: For every door that closes in the apiary, nature opens a window. Celebrate the queens you raise, protect the ones who work hard, and always give royalty the benefit of the doubt.

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