Fear the Beard!

Beard of Honeybees (A Swarm)

Sometimes -- even vegetable garden bloggers can hit mental subject roadblocks. It happens to the best of us. And, in my case, it happens to the worst of us. I knew I wanted to write about bees. But you just can't put pen to paper without having some sort of interesting subject matter in mind.

As it turns out -- the bees did all the work for me -- clearing that mental roadblock with one swift buzz.

While I had intended to write about the return of the bright pink Hello Kitty themed hive box -- I needed more than that. I wrote about Hello Kitty years ago. It's old news. Yeah -- I keep bees in a box painted bright pink with a Hello Kitty character stenciled on the side. What's so weird about that? Doesn't everybody do that?

The Return of the Hello Kitty Hive Box

As it turns out -- the honeybees I keep in two brightly painted hive boxes (pink and yellow) did all the hard work for me. They did what bees naturally do. The queen inside one of those colonies did such a fantastic job at laying eggs that the colony grew far too large for the multiple boxes I had assembled. And when a colony grows too large for the space it occupies: it swarms. That swarm is pictured above, right. And, yes, that's a closeup on my part. Bees that swarm rarely sting, and the swarm came from one of the most gentle colonies I've ever had the pleasure of keeping.

This is how new colonies are born or created in the wild. Normally, bees swarm in the spring or early summer. While it's not uncommon for colonies to swarm in the summer, it is rare. In most cases the queen stopped laying eggs weeks ago. I just hope she gets started up again to rebuild colony strength. Because, the unfortunate thing about swarms is this: about half the colony vanishes in the space of a day or two.

Second Hive Box with Bees "Bearding" in Front

That equals into a dramatic loss in honey production -- if you're keeping honeybees for such a thing.

I literally had to start over this year. The colony I'd nursed for the better part of two years, gifted to me by another beekeeper who got out of the business, up and vanished on me last winter. I didn't see much activity out of that hive in December after freezing weather set in. That got me worried. When spring finally rolled around and the weather warmed, a hive check revealed the worst of news. The colony was long gone.

I'll be honest, I missed them. A yard without an active box of pollinators around is an empty yard. It's a quiet yard. Once you've kept bees for a year or two, you're hooked. It's tough to live without them. One would think a beekeeper would get tired of excited bees whizzing to and fro and thonking into the back of one's head. Not so. They are like children. And when children leave, it gets quiet. Too quiet.

Hive Boxes-Face to Face-Shaded by Wisteria

I would come to discover that last year was a particularly nasty year for beekeepers -- and not just hobbyists like myself. When I discovered that one of the most experienced members of the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association (SABA) reported the loss of 100 colonies, I suddenly didn't feel so bad about losing my single, solitary hive. Honeybee loss hits everyone equally -- from the very experienced to the novice bonehead like myself.

I could have taken several actions to acquire new colonies. I could have purchased a package of bees plus a queen -- but I'm not a fan of that approach. There's no guarantee that the queen you're purchasing is a strong one, and the process of introducing a new queen to a colony is tricky. If you don't know what you're doing (SEE: BILL BIRD), the queen can get killed during the introduction process.

Swarm in a Nearby Pluot Tree

The second approach, which is the cheapest one I might add, is waiting for an established, wild colony to swarm. Colonies that swarm in the spring often come from strong hives that feature strong queens, which means there's a good chance that the swarm will contain a nice young, strong queen as well. The problem with this approach is waiting for the phone to ring. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn't. You've also got to be prepared for a swarm call 24/7. Since I work full-time, bee hunting availability is at a premium.

The third option, which I chose this spring after getting a very nice offer from a very nice SABA member, is called a "Nuc Transfer." This involves the transfer of a queen, several frames of bees and several frames of honey to an existing hive box. The attractive offer came from SABA Treasurer Kate Morton, after I'd moaned about the loss of my colony the previous winter.

Honeybees "Bearding" in Front of Hive Box

"You want bees," she asked? "I have bees." When she quoted me a price so ridiculously low, I couldn't shout "SOLD" fast enough. I probably shouldn't be telling her this. She'll probably try to sell me another colony or three.

Sure enough -- her assurances of strong hives and strong queens were not empty promises. The swarm pictures included in this blog posting are proof of that. What initially started as three frames of bees in a small box -- something we call a "honey super" -- turned into three boxes stacked on top of one another overnight. Both queens were laying eggs at record rates. While I thought there was a chance one or both colonies might swarm, I also believed the addition of a true hive box at the bottom would prevent it.

Hah! Fat chance! Another boneheaded beekeeping move on my part. Add another one to a very long list.

Honeybee Collecting Siam Queen Basil Pollen

While I'd like to tell you that I kept and hived that swarm for myself, I'm not the best liar in the country. First and foremost, I've already tested the patience of nearby neighbors more than enough. Two colonies are fine. A third would be a little much. And while the City of Sacramento does encourage hobbyist beekeeping efforts, they also want beekeepers to limit the number of hives to just two. Two is exactly what I have. Adding a third, no matter how badly I wanted them, wouldn't have been the best of ideas.

Besides -- there's a popular poem regarding swarms that take place during the month of July. I didn't invent this. I'm not sure who did. But to beekeepers across the country -- and the world for that matter -- it's almost like a passage from the bible:

“A Swarm in May is worth a load of hay

A Swarm in June is worth a silver spoon

A Swarm in July ain’t worth a fly.”

Fear The Beard!

Why are swarms that take place in May or June more desirable than those in July? It has to do with pollen production, and the ability of a colony to gather enough pollen to produce enough honey stores for the winter months. In many areas of the country, pollen production begins to dry up in July. The harder pollen is to find -- the harder it is for the bees to make honey. And if a colony can't produce honey -- it's doomed. It will not survive the winter.

But that didn't stop a beekeeper from Loomis from making the trip down to our North Natomas farm to take a chance on this swarm. Like many beekeepers, this particular gentleman had retired from the rat race that is full-time work to take on the full-time hobby of beekeeping. My swarm, which sprang from Kate's bees, are now his colony.

Best of luck to the little buggers. I will miss them.

POSTSCRIPT:

If you're thinking the hobbyist beekeeper route might be the life for you -- I cannot stress the importance of belonging to a member organization like the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association. Here you will find the meetings and helpful people who are essential to getting started. And they will more than welcome you to the club as there's always room for more. Please feel free to drop by the SABA booth at the upcoming State Fair! You just might run into the wife that is Venus and her kook of a husband. Sample free honey! See honeybees in a glass enclosed demonstration hive! The SABA booth is always a top draw for kids and parents alike.

Mind Your Own Beeswax!!!

Beehive Display: California State Fair

This just happens to be one of my favorite lines that sprang from manning the "Bee Booth" at the California State Fair this past Monday. Though it was a Monday afternoon, and things were a tad slow on the fairgrounds, it didn't stop the kids from coming inside to check out a display case of live bees, ask questions and get a tasting of several different types of honey.

It's that special glass display case to your upper right that garnered most of the interest. It's a representation of a small bee city inside that glass case. The kids were surprised to learn that most hives were far larger -- containing anywhere from ten to 20 frames instead of the two frames pictured inside that case.

Beekeeping Booth: California State Fair

I like working with kids when it comes to bees. The kids are fascinated by the show and the honey -- and come armed with lots of questions. Thank goodness they have someone like me around -- as I would respond with the following answers:

Question: "Will those bees sting?"

Answer: "Why don't you put your hand in there and find out."

Question: "What happens if you open the top of that display case?"

Answer: "I don't know. Let's find out, shall we?"

Honey Samples at CA State Fair Booth

Question: "Where should I keep bees? The backyard?"

Answer: "No, the best place is your bedroom."

Question: "Are bees friendly?"

Answer: "Of course! They just told me that they want to go home with you!"

Question: "Why does the Queen have a dot of yellow paint on her?"

Answer: "That's not paint. It's her mood ring. Just wait and see what happens when it turns red."

Editor's Note: Somewhere, someone with the Sacramento Area Beekeeping Association (SABA) is firing off a nasty email to the President with the following report: "NEVER LET BILL BIRD ANYWHERE NEAR THE STATE FAIR BEEKEEPING BOOTH AGAIN!!!!"

Venus Dishes the Honey

I can't blame them...

All kidding aside, the booth experience proved to be far more enjoyable than I ever could have imagined. There are lots of activities, sights, sounds, foods, experiences, etc. that can grab a child's attention. But, even the attraction of chocolate covered bacon or a deep-fried twinkie couldn't overcome the fascination that resulted from a two-frame display of living, breathing, buzzing, bees.

As I stood there, talking with both parents and children alike, it struck me that I've come a long way in this now three-plus year experiment in beekeeping. It brought back long ago memories of running from a single, solitary bee that had taken a liking to the hive frames I'd kept stacked in the garage, waiting for my first colony of bees to arrive. How could I keep an entire colony if I was scared of one, single, solitary bee?

The Infamous Neon Pink Hello Kitty Hive

From those first, halting steps, somehow I'd emerged as an experienced beekeeper. When did this happen? Did this transformation take place after I captured and hived my first wild swarm? When I first procured honey from the backyard hive? Perhaps when I added the second hive to the Bird Back 40?

Overnight I've gone from someone asking the questions to the person providing the answers. When did this happen? I suppose it comes from the experience of working a hive on your own for the very first time. I suppose it comes from the experience of watching a mass of annoyed bees suddenly erupting from a hive towards my face after a long and not so comfortable trip in the car.

At some point in time the wife that is Venus and I went from cautious beginners to actual beekeepers. I'm just trying to figure out exactly when this happened. Perhaps it was the joy of watching Lenny, our 14 lb. Maine Coon Kitten, learn a very hard lesson that paws should never be stuck into the front of a hive opening?

Or perhaps it's the despair of realizing that you've lost yet another hive to Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD), and wondering what you did wrong, if anything. There's nothing more distressing than discovering an empty hive that is packed with honey stores for the winter. Why did they up and leave all this behind? Perhaps it's the vow to never let it happen again?

Dave Mason Concert: CA State Fair

There's nothing more pleasing, in my opinion, than watching a hive at work in the backyard. You enjoy them while they are there. You miss them when they are gone. It's one reason why that once you become a beekeeper, you'll always be a beekeeper.

One hive is never enough. Two is twice as nice. Perhaps that idea of a third colony in the bedroom isn't such a bad idea after all.

Our Winter of Discontent

They're dead.

Gone.

Where? I don't know. All I can report at this point in time is that our Hello Kitty Beehive was empty when we checked it this morning. Other than four or five dead bees at the bottom of the hive -- there was nothing. Nada. Zip.

Where did they go? That's the $64 question boys and girls -- because I don't know. I can tell you that this hive was so full of bees this past September -- that the show they put on at night was enough to make anyone nervous. It wasn't unusual to encounter a mass of bees like this.

Venus and I had a strong -- crowded and somewhat aggressive beehive just two short months ago. But in the space of that time -- all of the bees that you see to your left vanished.

They didn't die (as far as I know). They just aren't there anymore.

The first hint that something might not be right in the hive came earlier this week when the new President of the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association (SABA) came across a post on this blog titled "Forget About it Fishback!"

Let's just say the new President of SABA -- Brian Fishback -- wasn't all that pleased. And he let me know in the form of the following comment:

"Thank you for you kind words. It is warm and welcoming to know that this is how you treat people that you call upon for support. The fact of the matter is I obtain a lot of older, worn-out bee boxes, frames and tools from folks not finding the time or interest in beekeeping. Many of the colonies I obtain are infested, run-down and deprived by the time I get a call. So, what I providing is a service to the bees as well as to those who call upon me. I'm sorry that you feel this way. Maybe you can make a difference by holding an honorable position in the association as I do....Sincerely, Brian Fishback."

Oops.

It appears I touched a nerve. I didn't mean to do that. But sometimes -- well -- Bill Bird just sort of rubs people the wrong way. And -- what is largely "tongue in cheek" blog writing -- is taken quite seriously. I knew what had to be done.

I immediately called Brian at the number he left behind to profusely apologize. I told him that I didn't mean any offense -- and that my posting was merely a way to poke fun at people. But -- yes -- sometimes my "fun" can go a bit too far. I also told him the truth -- that I very much enjoyed and appreciated the support I had received from fellow beekeepers this summer. Without SABA -- the Hello Kitty Hive would have perished in June. That's the honest truth.

I think Brian appreciated the gesture -- and the apology. At that point -- the talk switched to bees and I told him about my reluctance to break into the hive to check on the bees due to some recent cold and nasty weather. During the last SABA meeting -- I had received this block of what's called "Pollen Patty," which I knew the hive would enjoy.

Brian advised me that I should have noticed bees flying in and out of the hive -- which I haven't seen since that blast of cold weather that the Sacramento area received in October. I knew the honey stores inside the hive were quite strong from my last check inside the hive in August -- and I knew the hive wasn't starving.

But the lack of activity? That concerned me. It concerned Brian as well -- who informed me that "his bees were flying today." He also related a somewhat scary story: He'd lost five of his hives in just the past month alone due to a condition called "Sudden Colony Collapse Disorder." This is the biggest problem facing hobbyist beekeepers and commercial Apiaries today. Normal, healthy, productive hives suddenly vanish without a trace.

Why is this happening? Nobody is quite sure -- but a great body of recent evidence points to a destructive little creature called the Varroa Mite. Beekeepers also refer to this pest as the Varroa Destructor -- because it can destroy entire colonies in a short matter of time. Invisible to the naked eye -- experienced beekeepers can spot evidence of the mite at work. But hobbyists such as Venus and I? The world clueless comes to mind.

Following Mr. Fishback's instructions to the letter -- my first move was to try to lift a corner of the hive. If it moved or lifted easily -- or weighed less than 20 lbs. (estimate) -- I was "in trouble" according to the SABA President. My hive, however? It wouldn't budge. I needed a shovel to lift a corner of it -- and by the time I finally got my fingers underneath the bottom board of the hive -- I knew it was more than 20 lbs. in weight.

Good news -- right?

Not so fast. The next move was to take my hive tool and pry off the top of the hive that the bees had long ago sealed with a sticky substance they secrete called "propolis." They had done an excellent job of sealing the top and bottom boards -- which was another good sign.

But when I finally cracked the top open -- well -- I instantly spotted "trouble" with a capital T. I should have seen a small mass of bees rising to the top to face the "human intruder." Instead -- Venus and I got nothing. And -- as I peered between the slats inside the hive looking for a mass of bees -- I found nothing.

No signs of life. A dead bee here or there. No spiders. No hive beetles. No mites. Nothing. The hive was devoid of life. What I found instead were combs that were rich with honey. I have a hive loaded with pollen and honey stores that would easily sustain a hive through the winter.

But the colony is gone. The queen is gone. There was no evidence whatsoever to support a scenario where the queen could have perished -- and worker bees attempted to create another. Instead I found empty comb in some places and many combs loaded with honey and pollen.

So -- what went wrong? You've got me. I don't think it was from lack of attention or lack of feeding. The bees had an ample supply of food inside the hive -- that much is evident. They had a healthy -- productive queen last summer -- as evidenced by masses of bees that would hang outside the hive entrance during those warm summer nights.

Does this spell the end of our beekeeping efforts? Honestly -- I can't tell you that right now. It's just too soon to say. It is somewhat depressing -- however -- to lose not one but two hives in the course of just one summer. It's time -- perhaps -- to take a break and think things over.

Perhaps I should have listened to Brian Fishback's generous offer after all.

FORGET ABOUT IT FISHBACK!New Heights for the Hello Kitty Hive!

My thanks to some new friends over at Hello Kitty Hell for a bit of shameless self-promotion that set the Sacramento Vegetable Gardening hit counter soaring to new heights.

It always pleases me to see ten to 15 people access the blog daily. It means I'm reaching someone. Hopefully, I'm teaching them so new tricks or at least making them laugh. It's all I've got people. You go with what you know.

But -- when the fine folks over at Hello Kitty Hell discovered the Hello Kitty Hive and published this entry? The hit counter hit the roof! Eight thousand hits over the space of 24 hours? Exsqueeze me? Even the blog counter Technorati confirms that I am officially a "big deal" now. The blog that is Sacramento Vegetable Gardening went from the 754,975 thousandth most important blog to a mere 705,867.

My friends -- this is power. Who cares about those other 706 thousand clowns anyway? I bet they don't have a Hello Kitty Beehive. All right Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my closeup!

Let's just say I owe those fine folks at Hello Kitty Hell a bottle or two of Hello Kitty Hive honey, which will hopefully be available next year. I imagine the folks that actually license "Hello Kitty" will jump into the honey line as well. I can't blame them. When you've got a hit like Hello Kitty on your hands -- you take advantage of it.

Not to change the subject (but I am) -- many of you have come to know that the wife that is Venus and I are first-time beekeepers. The scientific term is "newbs." The Latin term is E. Pluribus Newbium. We've never done anything like this before, and each day with the hive is a learning experience.

Unfortunately, it seems there are a few other beekeepers who show absolutely NO SHAME WHATSOEVER in capatalizing on the fortunes of Newbie Beekeepers. Case in point? A Sacramento area beekeeper by the name of Brian Fishback.

I've had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fishback once or twice before during the monthly meetings of the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association (we all get together to show off our bee stings and drink wine made from honey). I've actually heard him speak on the subject of bees -- although to be honest -- most of what he told me went straight over ye olde cranium.

But Mr. Fishback knows what us Newbie Beekeepers are going through these days. He knows that we are encountering nightly scenes like this in front of the hive. He knows that Newbie Beekeepers like the wife that is Venus and I are getting stung on a daily basis. And he knows that some of us "Newbs" are having second thoughts about owning a servicing a hive on a daily basis.

Not everyone -- it seems -- can put up with the welts.

What has Mr. Fishback done?

The September edition of the Sacramento Beeline (cute) -- a monthly publication of the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association -- arrived in my email inbox the other day. It was packed full of useful information regarding all things bees -- and also contained this little advertisement from none other than Mr. Fishback. It reads (and I quote):

"To bee or not to bee, that is the question I ask of thee. If you have purchased bees, equipment, supplies and have discovered that this may not bee the time for you to bee raising bees, I would like to purchase your hives or supplies. Please give me a call: Brian Fishback (916) 709-XXXX.

How utterly quaint of him. Fishback knows the bees have turned on us a bit (all hives do when pollen sources start to dry up in the fall) and is looking to swoop in and captalize on OUR hard work, OUR bee sting welts, OUR hives, OUR summer sweat and hard work, and our FEARS as Newbie Beekeepers.

He knows -- all too well -- that approaching a hive that looks like this one to your right can be a bit -- well -- unsettling to normal folks. And he's right. I still have a hard time approaching the hive when the bees are out in force like this. You can't even see that feeder jar in front, can you? Notice how it's kinda covered with bees? Bees that you need to flick off to retrieve the jar in question so you can refill it?

Not a job for the squeamish -- I'll admit. And I'll also admit that the wife that is Venus has commented on more than one occassion that "maybe beekeeping wasn't such a good idea after all."

And then she saw the ad from Brian Fishback. Suddenly, her views shifted. So did mine.

So -- we have a message for our fellow beekeeper in arms: FORGET ABOUT IT FISHBACK.

How would San Francisco Giants TV Color commentator Mike Krukow put it? Oh yes -- that's right. He'd say something snide like: "Grab some pine, meat."

Thanks, but no thanks, Fishback. We built this City. We're not giving up. There's only one Hello Kitty Hive that we're aware of. And those bees ain't going nowhere.

Shame, Shame, Brian. Back to the bench for you!

Emergency SURGERY for the HELLO KITTY Hive!!!

The business of bees is not as simple nor as satisfying as one might think. Venus and I have both learned a great deal ever since we purchased our first hive box and package of bees in late April.

But we still have much to learn. Our mistakes may have cost us the life of one colony. I hope not. There's still time for our hive to recover. But that's not up to us now. It's up to fate. It's up to nature. It's up to God.

I'd like to thank Howard Mann from the Sacramento Area Beekeepers Association for contributing some really intense photos attached with this posting (the best you'll ever see on this blog). Howard has been nurting bees in his North Highlands backyard for darn near a decade, and is now serving as a mentor for both Venus and I.

The emergency steps we have taken in the past three weeks with Howard's help just might work. Then again, they might not. But at least I can content myself with the knowledge that I've done everything I can to save our hive.

Some of the passages in the book "First Lessons in Beekeeping" by Keith Delaplane stand out rather ominously now. I didn't initially understand the phrase: "75% of all new hives fail in the first year." I do now. That's a true statement.

The first inkling that the Hello Kitty hive was in serious trouble came three weeks ago when I finally built up enough courage to check on the progress of the Queen. It would be the first visit back inside the hive since I removed a large patch of burr comb, and suffered three stings in the process.

Although the stings didn't really hurt all that much (really, they didn't), they do serve as a warning of what can go wrong when you inspect a hive. Three stings can turn into ten rather quickly. But, if I was going to be serious about maintaining a hive in the backyard, the progress check had to be done.

What I found -- and what you see to the right -- spelled a massive jolt of trouble. Those empty combs were a massive disappointment. If you look closely, you can see a male bee -- called a drone -- emerging from his bullet-capped cell. You can also clearly see other bullet-capped cells in the same picture.

But what I should have encountered, and did not, is lots of brown, flat capped cells among the few drone cells. Those are the female worker bees, and its those bees that can mean success, or spell doom, for any beekeeper. I clearly didn't have any. I also couldn't find the queen either.

What I did find during the hive check three weeks ago is a colony severely depleted in numbers. A queenless colony. What happened to our queen? I'm not really sure. I could have accidentally killed her on the night of the previous visit, when I clearly upset the hive by removing burr comb buildup. Or, she could have abandoned the hive on her own. She also could have been killed by other workers.

Any number of things could have happened.

The picture to your left represents what I should have found when I checked the hive. It is what i was hoping to find. This is a frame from a healthy hive. All of those flat, tan colored combs belong to female workers that have yet to emerge. They will breathe new life into any colony. I had nothing like this.

As disappointed as I was by finding a near empty hive and a few bullet-shaped cappings, the news was about to get worse. Others more experienced than me at this business informed me that I might have a "laying worker" inside the hive. That's a death sentence. Laying workers cannot produce other females. They can only lay eggs that will produce male drones. Soon I would have nothing left but hive of male drones, which would eventually die off.

The next bit of advice didn't make me any happier. You cannot "re-queen" a hive that contains a laying worker. The other bees will just kill the new queen. Do you know the only proven way to rid a hive of a laying worker? Every frame of the hive must be removed from the hive -- taken a distance of 80-to-100 feet away -- and then whacked silly to dislodge every remaining bee on each of all ten frames.

The "laying worker" will not have the ability to fly back to the hive (she's too fat), and will die. At that point, you CAN reintroduce a new queen into the hive, provided all those bees you've enraged during the removal process haven't taken their own lives by stinging the intruder destroying their home.

I needed help. Help arrived in the form of Howard Mann. He offered the experienced eye that Venus and I did not have, and knew what steps needed to be taken. Time was of the essence.

The first thing that Howard discovered after closely examing the bees in the hive is that the queen was obviously gone. That, we already knew. But he also delivered some unsuspected good news: the hive did not appear to have a laying worker. There would have been some evidence of a laying worker in LOTS of bullet shaped drone cells.

But, since I only had a few drones, he deduced very quickly that I did not have a laying worker, nor a queen. Even worse, the population of the existing hive had fallen into a near-failure state. Not only would I need to add a new queen to the hive, I would be forced to add new bees as well in what is referred to as a "nuc (nuke) transfer."

A "nuc transfer" is somewhat different from purchasing a "package of bees," which is what I had initially done last April. In a "nuc transfer" several frames of existing brood and bees are removed from a successful hive and directly inserted into a failing hive (like mine).

But, successful hives are hard to find in late June. If you're a beekeeper with a successful hive, you normally resist attempts to split the hive, unless you receive indications that the successful hive is so crowded, that bees are preparing to swarm. Then, and only then, will a beekeeper with a successful hive agree to sell some frames of brood and bees.

Once again, Howard's experience paid dividends. He knew other beekeepers in the Sacramento area who had queens. He knew others that had brood they were willing to part with. And, after a few phone calls and a quick trip to Sacramento Beekeeping Supplies in downtown Sacramento, I had my new queen (pictured to your left).

Unfortunately, you can't actually see her in that cage. But, trust me, she's there. She's covered with a dot of green paint on her abdomen, which makes her extremely easy to spot.

I also managed to acquire two frames of existing brood and bees, which I immediately inserted into my hive. Do you see the tan or brown colored cappings in the middle of that frame? Each one of those combs represents a female worker bee that has yet to emerge. Those new workers, and the new queen, represent new life for the hive. If you look closely in the upper right of the photo to your right, you'll also spot the new queen in her queen cage.

We were almost there.

Inserting the new frames into an existing hive is easy enough. The old bees mix in with the new bees easily enough. The new bees are immediately accepted because they didn't try to enter the hive. I placed them there. So, to the old bees, it was like nothing had happened. The new bees just sort of magically appeared.

But -- the story was different for the hundreds of bees who were flying around the frames and their new hive. Because they failed to stay on the frames when I inserted them into the hive, they were immediately attacked the moment they tried to enter the hive through the entrance at the bottom.

The old, or existing bees, saw them as invaders. The new bees were simply trying to gain access to the frames they called home. That, unfortunately, set off a Death Match 3000 fight between old and new in front of the hive. It's a match where both bees -- old and new -- would perish. As much as I didn't like it, bees are insects. This is just something that they do.

As for the new queen? Well, she got to hang out in the new hive for a bit -- but still very much protected by her queen cage. She sat in her cage -- held aloft by two frames pressed together -- for a good 72 hours. And then, in the final move of attempting to save my hive, we removed the cork covering the entrance to the queen cage, and laid it on top of the hive.

We waited and watched.

Sure enough -- about a minute later -- the queen emerged. She paid no notice to the beekeepers fawning over her -- no worry at all. She looked about, looked down, and immediately climbed into her hive. She was accepted without question. Long live the queen.

Does this mean new life for the Hello Kitty hive? Possibly. Keep your fingers crossed. I'm hoping and praying that the new queen is laying a bundle of eggs in frame after empty frame. My hope is that when we enter the hive next, we'll see frame after frame after frame of covered brood. Should we see that -- the Hello Kitty hive has got a fighting chance.

Time will tell.