It was the first time Rebecca had ever had an audience when working with bees. Most people, without the protection of a bee suit and veil, kept a respectful distance when she worked with the insects.
But now she had a double audience—the King family, who stayed on the porch, and Jacob, who was close at hand.
“First thing to know,” she told Jacob, “is to keep your voice low—no shouting or loud talking. And keep your movements slow and calm, too. Bees are remarkably quick to pick up agitation or anger or other strong emotions.”
“How likely are we to get stung?” Jacob asked with a trace of nervousness in his voice.
“Not likely at all,” she said with some surprise. Was he concerned about that? “Have you been stung before?”
“Nein. How bad is it?”
“Not bad. I mean, it’s a bit painful, but not as bad as you’d think. Even when I work directly with hives, I seldom get stung.”
“I saw you working the hives wearing just a veil.”
“Ja, sometimes it’s easier. Here, despite their appearance, bees in a swarm are remarkably calm because they have nothing to defend—no hive, no honey, no brood. All they have to do is make sure their queen is safe, and since she’s smack in the middle of the swarm, she can’t get much safer than that.”
“What’s the sheet for?” he asked as she shook it out.
“I put this on the ground below the box. This evening when I collect the swarm, I wrap the box with the sheet to keep the bees inside.”
She picked up the bee brush, the white sheet and the cardboard box, and approached the cluster of bees with Jacob at her side.
“Now listen carefully,” she told him. “This swarm couldn’t be in a better location. They’re low to the ground, so I don’t have to climb a ladder or anything. But I can’t have you making any noise or exclamations at what I’m going to do. Is that clear?”
“Ja sure,” he replied. “But what are you going to do?”
“It’s very simple. I’m going to put the open box right beneath the swarm, then shake the branch sharply. That will knock the majority of the swarm straight into the box, including the queen. It sounds crazy, but most of the bees will stay in the box because they don’t want to leave their queen.”
“I’ll stay quiet,” he promised.
She nodded, remembering how she’d marveled when she’d first watched a beekeeper in Pierce hive a swarm. The Englischer had been her beekeeping mentor during her first year, and she had learned a tremendous amount. “Here, you can hold this,” she said, and gave him the bee brush.
The hum of the swarm as she drew near never failed to fascinate her. They were so vibrant and full of promise. Keeping her movements smooth, she spread the white sheet on the ground beneath the bush. In the center of the sheet, directly under the cluster, she placed the box with its flaps out. Then, grasping the branch of the bush where the bees were gathered, she gave it a single sharp shake.
With textbook perfection, the majority of the swarm simply dropped into the box with a dull thud. She heard Jacob’s faint gasp.
The hum of the swarm increased in agitation at the sudden change in location, but true to form, most of the bees stayed inside the box, a living, writhing mass of insects. A few hundred stayed clinging to the tree, and a few hundred more fretted about the box, crawling up the flaps or buzzing low over the interior. Hundreds more swirled in the air in confusion.
With the majority of the cluster in the box, she shook the branch a few more times to dislodge any stragglers. “That should have gotten the queen,” she said to Jacob in satisfaction.
“How do you keep them in the box?” he asked quietly.
“Most will stay there, because hopefully that’s where the queen is,” she replied. Working with slow movements, she tucked the flaps in to secure the box. “See these holes?” She pointed to the upper sides of the box, where triangular sections had been cut out. “The bees will follow the queen’s pheromone—her particular scent—into the box.” She stood up. “That’s all we can do at the moment. It will take a few hours for everyone to settle down, and for the scout bees to return and find the queen.”
“Scout bees?”
“Ja, the individual bees whose job it is to find a new home. They’re roaming around right now. Meanwhile I have to go home and get a new hive set up for them.”
“Amazing,” he murmured. Through the veil she saw wonder on his face.
She chuckled to herself, remembering her own first experiences with bees that rapidly morphed into an obsession. “Ja,” she agreed. “Honeybees are one of Gott’s most remarkable creations. Watch out, Jacob, or you might get bitten by the same beekeeping bug I did.”
“It might be too late,” he admitted.
“Let me have the bee brush,” she said, and took the brush from him. “Now turn around. I want to make sure you have no stray bees clinging to your suit.” She brushed a few clinging insects off the garment, then had him return the favor, especially on her back.
“They can’t sting through the fabric?” he asked, brushing an insect off her shoulder.
“Not really, unless the fabric is stretched tight across the skin, such as at knees or elbows. But most of the time people have the suits over their regular clothes anyway, which adds an extra layer of protection. That’s about all we can do for the time being,” she added. “If you want to get the buggy ready, I’ll go talk to the Kings.” She walked away from the buzzing box of bees toward the King family, stripping off her gloves as she did so. She unzipped her veil and let it dangle down her back.
“That’s it,” she told Ephraim King with a smile. “I suggest no one go near the box right now. There’s going to be a lot of activity around it for the next few hours. I’ll be back this evening.”
“Vielen dank, Rebecca.” Ephraim mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. “That was something to see.”
Rebecca didn’t contradict him or explain why a swarm was so much more docile than a hive. Since a swarm was one of the dramatic wonders of nature, it would be rude to dismiss his awe.
“I’m grateful for the new colony,” she told him. “I’ll bring a quart of honey for you this evening when I pick up the box.”
“Danke!” Ephraim grinned. “We’d like that.”
Amid the chorus of appreciation from the family, she walked toward the buggy, where she found Jacob struggling with the zipper to his veil, unable to remove it from the neck of the suit.
“How does this thing work?” he muttered in frustration.
“Here, let me help. It takes a while to get the hang of these things.” Stepping close, she reached toward the back of the neck, where the zipper started, and got the headpiece unfastened.
It was the second time she had been so physically close to Jacob, and—dressed as they were in the white beekeeper suit over their everyday clothes—she still found the experience surprisingly intimate.
As soon as she was finished, she stepped back and let him raise the veil and let it drop backward. “Danke.”
“Bitte.”
His blue eyes seemed unusually dark as he caught her gaze and held it for a few moments. She turned away and started pulling at Velcro tabs on her own suit. She realized she wasn’t ready for a truce with Jacob. It seemed easier somehow—and safer—to cling to resentment rather than reach an armistice.
Silently, she peeled off the suit, stepping out of her shoes to remove the legs, then bundled the garment into the back of the buggy. She didn’t look at Jacob as he, too, awkwardly divested himself of the coverall. She climbed into the buggy seat as he untied the horse. In a few minutes, they were trotting toward home.
“How often does that happen?” Jacob asked. “Catching a swarm like that?”
She breathed a silent prayer of relief. It seemed Jacob hadn’t been as shaken by that moment of closeness as she had. What was wrong with her?
“It depends on the time of year,” she replied, glad her voice sounded normal. She took a deep breath, then continued. “Last year I caught four swarms in one month, and nothing the rest of the year. Bees almost always swarm in a short window, right about now. It happens when a hive is overcrowded. That’s why I work on splitting hives in the spring, to try and avoid swarming.”
“And you’ll be able to settle this swarm into a hive without a problem?”
“Ja. Almost certainly. Bees just want a roomy place to live. That’s what I’ll give them.”
“Can I watch as you set up the new hive and settle them in?”
“Ja sure.” She was faintly surprised. It seemed Jacob had, indeed, been bitten by the beekeeping bug she had teased him about earlier.
She wondered if she minded. Except for the Englisch mentor in town who had helped her get started, she hadn’t found anyone in her church community who shared her enthusiasm for bees. Caleb was supportive, but not really involved. For five years, her project had largely been a solo endeavor.
Now here was Jacob, acting all interested. A small part of her wondered uneasily if there was an ulterior motive to his interest.
But she couldn’t worry about it now. She tried to be happy he was intrigued by the insects, and leave it at that.
This was Jacob’s first experience with honeybees, and he found himself just as fascinated as Rebecca warned him he’d be.
“I’ll help you get a new hive set up, if you want,” he offered as he pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the barn. He was eager to see how she did it.
“Ja gut,” she replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I keep some empty hive boxes in the barn.”
He climbed down from the buggy and unhitched the horse. He gave the animal a brief brushing, then released it to the pasture with an affectionate pat on the flank.
He went back into the barn to find Rebecca pulling various things from a dark corner. “Do you know where the cart is?” she asked, referring to the sturdy wheeled cart Caleb often used for barn chores.
“Ja. I’ll go get it.” He fetched it, pulling it into the barn.
“This is a platform base,” she said, handing him a stout, short-legged stand. “It’s what the hive will be set on. I don’t like setting hives directly on the ground. A platform helps keep pests like mice or insects from trying to get inside. Caleb made me a bunch of these when I first got started.”
“Did he make the rest of this, too?” he asked as she handed him various other components of a hive—a brood chamber, bottom board, cover, frames—and a garden rake. He duly piled everything into the cart.
“Nein,” she replied, brushing dust off her apron. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, which he found adorable. “I bought the equipment premade. Caleb offered to make it, but since he had no previous experience making hives, and they tend to be standard sizes, I felt it was safer to buy them.”
He pushed the cart out of the barn as Rebecca led the way to the bee yard. “Wait, do we need the bee suits?” he asked, suddenly remembering.
“Nein.” She didn’t break stride. “We’re not working directly with the bees, and the bees in all the other hives will just ignore us since we’re not a threat.”
“Ja gut.”
He had never really spent any time in the bee yard except for Rebecca’s brief tour when he first arrived, but now he looked around more attentively. The yard was simply a clearing on the edge of some trees. Dozens of hives were in a loose circle, and the log from a fallen tree was at one end. Some of the hives had brood boxes painted various pastel colors—pink and blue and green and yellow—while the rest of the hives were white. Some had other boxes piled higher, which he remembered she called “supers.”
“I think I’ll put the new hive there.” Rebecca pointed to a spot.
“Why are some of the hives painted different colors?” he asked as he pushed the cart where she indicated.
“To help the bees identify which one is theirs,” she replied. “Bees are very attuned to color, and also to cues from their surroundings. If I were to take, say, that pink hive and move it to the other side of the bee yard, it would completely confuse the bees because I’ve changed not just the location, but all the cues they pick up from the surroundings to pinpoint which hive is theirs. If a hive must be moved, it should either be moved just a couple feet away, or very far away so they’re essentially starting over.”
“Which is what you’re doing with the swarm, ja?”
“Ja.” She glanced at him, and he saw approval on her face that he understood. “Exactly so. If the swarm accepts the new hive—and I’m confident they will—it means they’ll become used to their new home and learn it by the landmarks around them, including color and placement of other hives.”
She pulled the rake out of the cart and vigorously leveled a section of ground, then set the platform base on the raked area, positioning it so it didn’t wobble. He watched as she assembled the hive, which took just a few minutes. He noticed she set aside several of the frames.
“You don’t want to put these in with the others?” he asked, pointing to the frames.
“Nein, I’m going to paint them with a sugar-water solution first,” she replied. “That will help encourage the new bees to stay in the hive. I’m also going to put a feeder of sugar water in the hive as well, but I’ll do that tomorrow. There.” She stepped back and brushed off her hands, a look of satisfaction on her face. “This will be humming with bees by tomorrow morning.”
“It’s already humming.” Now that the assembly process was finished, quiet descended on the bee yard and the indistinct hum of the other hives was audible.
“Ja, it is.” Rebecca’s voice was quiet and held a thread of joy as she absently leaned the rake against the log. He glanced at her and saw she was looking around the bee yard, her gaze lingering on other hives. “Sometimes I will just come here and sit on that log and let the peace of watching the bees at work envelop me. Sometimes I think I’m closer to Gott while sitting on that log than I am in church.”
It was an unusual statement and a peek into the raw emotion of her soul. He said nothing, just watched the expressions on her face.
She was a complex woman, and a prickly one. But at moments like this, when he saw the passion with which she regarded her cultivated insects, he wondered if she could ever cultivate a similar passion for human companionship. She was alone, yet not alone. She had her bees. It seemed they were all she needed.
He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or alarmed by that thought.
“Can you show me around the hives and tell me about them?” he asked quietly after a moment. He was reluctant for the interlude to end.
“Ja sure.” She started walking around the bee yard.
He trailed after her, half listening as she explained a brief history of each hive, when she added supers, how she checked the health of the queen and other particulars. “I’m selecting hives that show a resistance to varroa mites,” she told him.
“How do you do that?” He found himself interested despite his ignorance of the science of beekeeping.
“It’s not too hard.” She pointed to a hive painted pale green. “I take the colonies with the strongest natural resistance and split them to make two strong colonies. At first, I lost quite a few hives to the mites—over half. But year by year, the number of losses drops. Last year I only lost a quarter of the hives.” A smile crept across her face and her gaze took on a faraway look. “There’s a lot of satisfaction in breeding healthy bees. It’s an addicting pastime.”
“And this swarm you just captured? How will they fare?”
“I won’t know until a year from now, next spring. Before winter, I’ll do everything I can to help the bees survive the cold weather. I certainly won’t harvest any honey from most of the hives, especially this new one. But you see that?” She pointed beyond the hives, toward the surrounding fields.
“See what?” Jacob wondered if she had another hive outside the bee yard.
“The flowers.” She started walking toward a ring of plants growing in a broad swath around the entire bee yard. She touched some greenery with her toe. “A few years ago I planted a whole bunch of nectar-heavy wildflowers in a circle around the bee yard. I made sure to only use species native to this area, so the bees will have a lot of foraging right nearby.”
“Amazing,” he murmured. Rebecca’s activities with the bees, he realized, were part of the kinds of projects he hoped to accomplish as part of his permaculture goals on the farm. He would be wise to learn as much from her as possible so he could maintain the hives after she left.
“I’d like to see how you pick up the swarm this evening, and put the bees in this new hive,” he offered.
“Ja sure.” That note of uncertainty was back in her voice. He suspected she harbored suspicions about his motives. “I think the bees will be settled in a couple hours. We can pick them up then. But I won’t hive them until tomorrow morning, early.”
He nodded. “What time?”
“Just after sunrise, before the day gets warm.”
“How do you put that box of bees into the hive?”
She smiled. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
He smiled back. “Ja. I will.”
For a moment he caught her eyes and his heartbeat quickened. There was something mischievous about her expression, and he realized that she was quite a captivating woman. Not classically pretty, but she had a strong and intelligent face.
“Well...” He stepped back and looked around the bee yard. “I’m going to work on some other things for the rest of the afternoon. Let me know when you want me to hitch up the horse and go get that swarm.”
“I will, danke.” He noticed she seemed skittish all of a sudden.
It discomfited him to think they might be heading for a truce. His goal on Caleb’s farm was to run it according to his own guidelines. It was something he had desperately wanted since he was a teenager, and Gott had providentially provided him with the opportunity through Caleb’s generosity.
Keeping Rebecca on as a farm hand wasn’t part of those plans, no matter how much Caleb might urge to the contrary.
But there was a difference between need and want. He may not need Rebecca to stay...but maybe he wanted her to.