The first thing most people ask is, "Why would you want to keep bees?" It's fair question. The lunacy of handling tens of thousands of bees barehanded seems a bit obvious, but there is an answer. The follow up question, "How often do you get stung" is the one that I think most people are really interested in having answered. Well, this was my primary interest as well.
I have been stung once, so far, in the first 3 weeks of bee keeping (and it was my mistake that caused the bee to sting. I would have stung too). Seasoned beekeepers tell me that I will be stung much more frequently as each colony grows; from 15,000 bees to over 60,000 bees, over the next few months. A queen bee will lay up to 2000 eggs a day, when conditions are good, and they begin to be a bit more defensive as they have young and honey to defend. Still, keeping the bees' health in tip top shape is the primary job of the bee keeper. This blog will be updated each time I do any major work with the bees, which will be approximately once per week.
Getting back to the first question, I would first rephrase it: "How did I come to keep bees in the first place?" The answer to how I came to keep bees, and why I keep bees now are a bit different. This blog will address how it happened. However, now that I have a taste of it, I continue to do it is because these insects are fascinating, and instructive to me. They have become my teachers, and have provided a clear window for me to see into my self. This is proving to be remarkable in ways I could have not foreseen. But this topic is for another day, and will be unfolded over time.
I came to bee keeping through a separate hobby; the brewing and fermenting of beers, wines, and 'meads'. Grains and hops are to beer, what grapes are to wine, and what honey is to mead; The essence and spirit of the drink.
My making of alcohol can be traced to 1997, when I became a boarder/renter in a home on Appleton Circle, in Fitchburg. I had just returned home from travelling the US, and needed a place to hang my hat. I ended up rooming in a house with a couple of guys named Mark and Eric, who both had an interest in alcohol. Mark was a beer brewer, and kept large 5 gallon glass jars of bubbling mystery in an abandoned sauna in the basement, where he could easily maintain the 67 (or so) degree temps that he needed for fermentation. Eric was not a brewer, but was friendly with a group of Franciscan monks who ran a bakery called, "As You Like It." The monks made a drink called Mead, the making of which can be traced back thousands of years to the Vikings and beyond.
Eric kept cases of meads in the basement, and because it was bottled without preservatives, these bottles were likely to explode if not handled with the utmost care. It was actually frightening to watch him open a bottle...like watching a car accident in-progress. He would pick up a bottle, gingerly, with a towel, and gently push on the already protruding cork until it exploded across the room, like champagne. (I have since learned that it was the still-living yeasts, eating some of the remaining sugars in the sweet liquid, that caused the buildup of CO2, which created the pressure, making the bottle likely to explode. In fact, due to the high alcoholic content of meads, champagne yeasts are often used to ferment them, since these yeasts can survive a highly alcoholic environment.) The meads that Eric drank had a wide range of tastes. Some of the meads were sweet, and some were dry. The flavors were profoundly different based on the origin of the honey, and while I did not develop a taste for fine and distinctive alcohol until long after moving out of that house, I was affected by the uniqueness of what these guys were doing. And that left a lasting impression on me.
In 2004, after purchasing a house which had some room I had no prior use for, I thought that I would give beer brewing a shot, and fill some of that space with this new hobby (it had a built in bar to begin with!). My brother (who has been a brewer for quite a while) showed me the basics of beer, and after a year of making beer, I added wine-making to the agenda, and then decided to try my hand at making a mead.
I read a book on mead making, researched available recipes on the net, and finally decided on this one, which will be finished on 8.24.07: http://www.realbeer.com/edu/mead/worththewait.php . I put together the ingredient list, and began a search on the Internet for a local source of honey. The recipe called for 30-40 lbs of honey for a total of 10 gallons of mead. This would be two batches, and two different flavors. The first, a cinnamon/vanilla mead, made with organic cinnamon and whole vanilla beans from Madagascar. The 2nd, a standard, sweet, wildflower mead without added flavor. I ended up purchasing 30 lbs of honey, for a total cost of $150 (just for the honey!). Taking that money out of my wallet was painful, even if I was going to end up with a consumable product. And so, I decided that if I was going to experiment with meads, I better learn to keep bees. There was only one problem. I WAS TERRIFIED OF THEM.
Now, people who know me well can tell you that I love a challenge. I don't like feeling limited in any way, and if I feel confined by limitations I will work tirelessly to push beyond them. Learning to be unafraid of bees was no different...its just that this time, it was not some external constraint that was limiting me....it was ME that was limiting me. And as we all have experienced, overcoming our on psychological constructs can be the greatest challenge that we will ever face. Fortunately, I had an 'ace in the hole.' It was called Vipassana.
A technique I had learned during a 12 day silent meditation retreat in the heart of the Berkshires, in the month of March of 2006, was about to open a doorway that would have previously seemed impossible to open, and make those 12 days of internal torture and bewilderment, pay off in a way that never expected. Summed up neatly, Vipassana is the technique of observing the sensations of the body, without being swept away by what the body is doing and experiencing. I would use this technique to help me overcome my fear of bees. I knew it could be done.
The first time I went into a bee hive, using the techniques of Vipassana, my mind was observing: "Wow, it's amazing how this body is filled with fear. The heart is racing, sweat is forming on the skin, and the desire to run like an Olympic sprinter is overwhelming. Now, continue doing as you are being instructed. If the experience of a stinging sensation arises in the body, just observe it with equanimity and detachment." I did not get stung that first time in the hive, and by the time my body did get stung I was able to watch the sting happening with detachment, and continue working the hive. This was a remarkable accomplishment, considering my body still quivers with fear when I open the hives (I don't wear protective gloves anymore, which has increased the apprehension and fear). Thankfully, my mind is at the helm remembering: "equanimity, detachment, happiness, real peace."
After coming to terms with the fact that I was going to have to overcome the 'learned fear' of bees, I understood that I had no choice but to move forward.
I learned that the average well-managed hive produces between 40 and 150 lbs of honey each year, and this meant that to produce enough honey to make many different meads, I would need 2-4 hives; enough to guarantee at least 80 lbs of honey a year. This would cover at least 4 batches of mead annually and allow me to explore variously flavored meads at a very low cost.
I also discovered that properly managed hives will most-often pay for themselves by the end of their very first year. I had a win/win proposition going. I had a hobby that paid for itself, allowed me to afordably explore a separate hobby, and provided a brand new tool for self-improvement.
Now, 9 months after the impetus to explore the possibility of beekeeping was born, I am a beekeeper. I feel like a beekeeper. I am managing my bees as well as I am able, and I am LEARNING about my own self, by watching the lives of these amazing creatures.
I have been stung once, so far, in the first 3 weeks of bee keeping (and it was my mistake that caused the bee to sting. I would have stung too). Seasoned beekeepers tell me that I will be stung much more frequently as each colony grows; from 15,000 bees to over 60,000 bees, over the next few months. A queen bee will lay up to 2000 eggs a day, when conditions are good, and they begin to be a bit more defensive as they have young and honey to defend. Still, keeping the bees' health in tip top shape is the primary job of the bee keeper. This blog will be updated each time I do any major work with the bees, which will be approximately once per week.
Getting back to the first question, I would first rephrase it: "How did I come to keep bees in the first place?" The answer to how I came to keep bees, and why I keep bees now are a bit different. This blog will address how it happened. However, now that I have a taste of it, I continue to do it is because these insects are fascinating, and instructive to me. They have become my teachers, and have provided a clear window for me to see into my self. This is proving to be remarkable in ways I could have not foreseen. But this topic is for another day, and will be unfolded over time.
I came to bee keeping through a separate hobby; the brewing and fermenting of beers, wines, and 'meads'. Grains and hops are to beer, what grapes are to wine, and what honey is to mead; The essence and spirit of the drink.
My making of alcohol can be traced to 1997, when I became a boarder/renter in a home on Appleton Circle, in Fitchburg. I had just returned home from travelling the US, and needed a place to hang my hat. I ended up rooming in a house with a couple of guys named Mark and Eric, who both had an interest in alcohol. Mark was a beer brewer, and kept large 5 gallon glass jars of bubbling mystery in an abandoned sauna in the basement, where he could easily maintain the 67 (or so) degree temps that he needed for fermentation. Eric was not a brewer, but was friendly with a group of Franciscan monks who ran a bakery called, "As You Like It." The monks made a drink called Mead, the making of which can be traced back thousands of years to the Vikings and beyond.
Eric kept cases of meads in the basement, and because it was bottled without preservatives, these bottles were likely to explode if not handled with the utmost care. It was actually frightening to watch him open a bottle...like watching a car accident in-progress. He would pick up a bottle, gingerly, with a towel, and gently push on the already protruding cork until it exploded across the room, like champagne. (I have since learned that it was the still-living yeasts, eating some of the remaining sugars in the sweet liquid, that caused the buildup of CO2, which created the pressure, making the bottle likely to explode. In fact, due to the high alcoholic content of meads, champagne yeasts are often used to ferment them, since these yeasts can survive a highly alcoholic environment.) The meads that Eric drank had a wide range of tastes. Some of the meads were sweet, and some were dry. The flavors were profoundly different based on the origin of the honey, and while I did not develop a taste for fine and distinctive alcohol until long after moving out of that house, I was affected by the uniqueness of what these guys were doing. And that left a lasting impression on me.
In 2004, after purchasing a house which had some room I had no prior use for, I thought that I would give beer brewing a shot, and fill some of that space with this new hobby (it had a built in bar to begin with!). My brother (who has been a brewer for quite a while) showed me the basics of beer, and after a year of making beer, I added wine-making to the agenda, and then decided to try my hand at making a mead.
I read a book on mead making, researched available recipes on the net, and finally decided on this one, which will be finished on 8.24.07: http://www.realbeer.com/edu/mead/worththewait.php . I put together the ingredient list, and began a search on the Internet for a local source of honey. The recipe called for 30-40 lbs of honey for a total of 10 gallons of mead. This would be two batches, and two different flavors. The first, a cinnamon/vanilla mead, made with organic cinnamon and whole vanilla beans from Madagascar. The 2nd, a standard, sweet, wildflower mead without added flavor. I ended up purchasing 30 lbs of honey, for a total cost of $150 (just for the honey!). Taking that money out of my wallet was painful, even if I was going to end up with a consumable product. And so, I decided that if I was going to experiment with meads, I better learn to keep bees. There was only one problem. I WAS TERRIFIED OF THEM.
Now, people who know me well can tell you that I love a challenge. I don't like feeling limited in any way, and if I feel confined by limitations I will work tirelessly to push beyond them. Learning to be unafraid of bees was no different...its just that this time, it was not some external constraint that was limiting me....it was ME that was limiting me. And as we all have experienced, overcoming our on psychological constructs can be the greatest challenge that we will ever face. Fortunately, I had an 'ace in the hole.' It was called Vipassana.
A technique I had learned during a 12 day silent meditation retreat in the heart of the Berkshires, in the month of March of 2006, was about to open a doorway that would have previously seemed impossible to open, and make those 12 days of internal torture and bewilderment, pay off in a way that never expected. Summed up neatly, Vipassana is the technique of observing the sensations of the body, without being swept away by what the body is doing and experiencing. I would use this technique to help me overcome my fear of bees. I knew it could be done.The first time I went into a bee hive, using the techniques of Vipassana, my mind was observing: "Wow, it's amazing how this body is filled with fear. The heart is racing, sweat is forming on the skin, and the desire to run like an Olympic sprinter is overwhelming. Now, continue doing as you are being instructed. If the experience of a stinging sensation arises in the body, just observe it with equanimity and detachment." I did not get stung that first time in the hive, and by the time my body did get stung I was able to watch the sting happening with detachment, and continue working the hive. This was a remarkable accomplishment, considering my body still quivers with fear when I open the hives (I don't wear protective gloves anymore, which has increased the apprehension and fear). Thankfully, my mind is at the helm remembering: "equanimity, detachment, happiness, real peace."
After coming to terms with the fact that I was going to have to overcome the 'learned fear' of bees, I understood that I had no choice but to move forward.
I learned that the average well-managed hive produces between 40 and 150 lbs of honey each year, and this meant that to produce enough honey to make many different meads, I would need 2-4 hives; enough to guarantee at least 80 lbs of honey a year. This would cover at least 4 batches of mead annually and allow me to explore variously flavored meads at a very low cost.
I also discovered that properly managed hives will most-often pay for themselves by the end of their very first year. I had a win/win proposition going. I had a hobby that paid for itself, allowed me to afordably explore a separate hobby, and provided a brand new tool for self-improvement.
Now, 9 months after the impetus to explore the possibility of beekeeping was born, I am a beekeeper. I feel like a beekeeper. I am managing my bees as well as I am able, and I am LEARNING about my own self, by watching the lives of these amazing creatures.
