Day 5: No Suit, No Service

Today was a humbling reminder that in beekeeping, there is no such thing as a "quick and easy" task. I headed out to the yard with a simple list: fix the VarroxSan strips in The Vault and swap out the feeders in The Sentry and The Keep. I’d noticed too many bees drowning in the in-hive feeders, and the ants were starting to move in. Switching to top feeders was the right move for the health of the hives, but my execution was… flawed. Because I didn't plan on being in the hive for long, I skipped the full suit and opted for just a veil and light gloves. I’m a pro —I can handle this.

Yeah, I was wrong.

The Vault Strikes First: I started with The Vault. I needed to replace the VarroxSan strips I’d shifted during yesterday’s move, but I made the "dumbass" move of trying to pull a frame from the bottom brood box first. It was one of the busiest frames in the hive, and the second I lifted it, the bees went nuclear.

They swarmed my hands and arms. It wasn’t a warning; it was a coordinated tactical strike. I was stung five or more times in a matter of seconds. The most painful hit landed right on the tip of my right thumb—a sharp, throbbing reminder that a queenless hive has zero patience for intruders, especially ones who aren't properly dressed for the occasion. This was now a scene from a horror movie. I ran for it, swatting and feeling every bit the "rookie" I thought I’d outgrown.

Once I retreated and suited up like I was heading into a combat zone, I replaced all the frames and boxes for the Vault, placed the mite treatments, and closed it up tight.

The Sentry and the Feeders: I moved on to The Sentry and The Keep to pull those problematic in-hive feeders. In the process of pulling the feeder in The Sentry, I had inadvertently ripped through a couple emergency queen cells the bees had built right onto the side of the plastic. My heart sank. In a queenless split like The Sentry, those cells are the manifesto for the future. Seeing the larvae exposed was a gut punch. I had gone in for a simple equipment swap and ended up potentially wrecking the very royalty I was trying to protect.

The Silver Lining (Maybe?): But this is beekeeping, and if there’s one thing I know about these girls, it’s that they love a backup plan. For every cell I accidentally tore on the feeder, there are likely three more hidden deep in the frames where my clumsy hands couldn't reach. The Sentry is cranky, crowded, and currently "under construction," but the mission continues. I finished the job in full armor, but the damage was done—both to the comb and my ego.

The Outlook: I’m sitting here now with a thumb that is twice its normal size and a healthy dose of humility. Beekeeping isn't always about the "sweet" moments or the successful moves; sometimes it’s about the stings and the setbacks. I’m hopeful that the bees have more queen cells started, but for now, I’m staying out of their way. They need time to recover, and I need time for the swelling to go down.

Moral of the Day: Respect the bees’ space, even when your intentions are good. The suit isn't just for protection; it's a sign that you’re taking the hive—and the work they’re doing—seriously.