Old houses often have a rich history. Our smallish, very tall 1872 brick farmhouse in Saginaw’s countryside, where Joe and I raised our family, has an especially sweet one, revealed just yesterday.
The adventure began about two months ago, with a honeybee or two banging against the large living room window, as they’d been doing every spring for years. But now lots of bees meandered along the pale carpet, or stumbled around on the stairway leading to the second floor, too many to simply scoop up and usher out. They were even found in our beds. During bathroom visits in the deep night, our elder daughter Jen and my husband Joe noticed sleepy bees crawling along the upstairs hall carpet, attracted by the nightlight. Yikes! Imagine stepping on one, bare-footed!
There had to be a hive outside somewhere, perhaps in one of the many trees living on our two acres of wooded yard. Busy distracted honeybees had probably bumbled into the house whenever we entered.
Or maybe…just maybe- they were inside the walls! Like the bats!
Years ago my husband began capturing and releasing confused adolescent bats who’d somehow found their way into our home. The invasion gradually increased, indicating that they were roosting somewhere inside the brick exterior walls of the 145-year old structure. But where?
To test the theory, he took a lawn chair outside as evening fell, and waited. Wow! Countless bats exited the house from a point just under the high roof.
It took a long time.
Now he knew where they were living. The next morning a batman came to set up a tall extension ladder and affix a bat door to their entryway. The creatures could exit, but never re-enter. No bats would die; they’d simply find another home.
This simple, elegant solution stopped the problem.
Now, years later, the experience got us thinking.
There just might be a honeybee hive up there, too!
We hired a contractor/builder, who climbed up a long extension ladder to the roofline, in the same area where the bats had once lived. He found a rotting soffit board.
Aha! There was a thriving hive deep inside!
He’d replace all loose and elderly boards that had allowed their entry, but not until we contacted a beekeeper, who’d charge no fee, but instead, extract and keep the precious bees- and their waxy stores of golden honey.
A huge scaffold was set up to that end. Dressed in protective suits the beekeeper and his assistant climbed up- and tore out a decent section of the roof!
They gasped.
A massive hive, maybe decades old, lay exposed. About 25,000 healthy honeybees buzzed around, confused by the morning light pouring in. Worker bees tried to protect a nursery, where new bees were just emerging. The queen, deeper inside, was busy making more bees. And, of course, huge stashes of honey, tidily stored in combs, lay in orderly rows. (An older part of the hive had been vacated years ago as the bees gradually expanded deeper into the roof rafters. Some of the big roof timbers in there were half the size they should have been, worn down over the years by bees, weather and time…
Jenny donned a protective suit and climbed up for a closer look. She sampled a bit of honey and pronounced it delicious, tasting of clover, thistle and spearmint.
The keeper dangled queens to get the bees’ attention, then gently sucked the insects into a specially altered shop vac. They were then transported to their new digs at his home not far away. Their relocation took all day. By the way, each pound of honeybees represents 2500-3000 insects. Over eight pounds of bees were extracted.
One summer day many years ago a dear friend found thousands of bees blanketing the outside walls of her home. They were removed. Problem solved. They’d probably been swarming…
But then, dining in their home with friends a few days later, there came a thick, golden drip-drip-drip from the ceiling, down into their hair, their food… and then the dining room ceiling collapsed, unable to support the weight of a mountain of untended honey and melting combs. Fortunately no one was hurt.
Our attic ceiling might have met the same fate if, say, mites had infested these honeybees, killing them, which would leave their huge stash of honey untended. Mite infestation is a huge problem in this country.
Part of the top of our Saginaw home now lay exposed to the elements, but no rain was predicted. Never mind: it came anyway. The builders rushed to temporarily tarp the wound, and will secure the roof later today, after the rest of the honey is extracted.
Sweet!
The adventure began about two months ago, with a honeybee or two banging against the large living room window, as they’d been doing every spring for years. But now lots of bees meandered along the pale carpet, or stumbled around on the stairway leading to the second floor, too many to simply scoop up and usher out. They were even found in our beds. During bathroom visits in the deep night, our elder daughter Jen and my husband Joe noticed sleepy bees crawling along the upstairs hall carpet, attracted by the nightlight. Yikes! Imagine stepping on one, bare-footed!
There had to be a hive outside somewhere, perhaps in one of the many trees living on our two acres of wooded yard. Busy distracted honeybees had probably bumbled into the house whenever we entered.
Or maybe…just maybe- they were inside the walls! Like the bats!
Years ago my husband began capturing and releasing confused adolescent bats who’d somehow found their way into our home. The invasion gradually increased, indicating that they were roosting somewhere inside the brick exterior walls of the 145-year old structure. But where?
To test the theory, he took a lawn chair outside as evening fell, and waited. Wow! Countless bats exited the house from a point just under the high roof.
It took a long time.
Now he knew where they were living. The next morning a batman came to set up a tall extension ladder and affix a bat door to their entryway. The creatures could exit, but never re-enter. No bats would die; they’d simply find another home.
This simple, elegant solution stopped the problem.
Now, years later, the experience got us thinking.
There just might be a honeybee hive up there, too!
We hired a contractor/builder, who climbed up a long extension ladder to the roofline, in the same area where the bats had once lived. He found a rotting soffit board.
Aha! There was a thriving hive deep inside!
He’d replace all loose and elderly boards that had allowed their entry, but not until we contacted a beekeeper, who’d charge no fee, but instead, extract and keep the precious bees- and their waxy stores of golden honey.
A huge scaffold was set up to that end. Dressed in protective suits the beekeeper and his assistant climbed up- and tore out a decent section of the roof!
They gasped.
A massive hive, maybe decades old, lay exposed. About 25,000 healthy honeybees buzzed around, confused by the morning light pouring in. Worker bees tried to protect a nursery, where new bees were just emerging. The queen, deeper inside, was busy making more bees. And, of course, huge stashes of honey, tidily stored in combs, lay in orderly rows. (An older part of the hive had been vacated years ago as the bees gradually expanded deeper into the roof rafters. Some of the big roof timbers in there were half the size they should have been, worn down over the years by bees, weather and time…
Jenny donned a protective suit and climbed up for a closer look. She sampled a bit of honey and pronounced it delicious, tasting of clover, thistle and spearmint.
The keeper dangled queens to get the bees’ attention, then gently sucked the insects into a specially altered shop vac. They were then transported to their new digs at his home not far away. Their relocation took all day. By the way, each pound of honeybees represents 2500-3000 insects. Over eight pounds of bees were extracted.
One summer day many years ago a dear friend found thousands of bees blanketing the outside walls of her home. They were removed. Problem solved. They’d probably been swarming…
But then, dining in their home with friends a few days later, there came a thick, golden drip-drip-drip from the ceiling, down into their hair, their food… and then the dining room ceiling collapsed, unable to support the weight of a mountain of untended honey and melting combs. Fortunately no one was hurt.
Our attic ceiling might have met the same fate if, say, mites had infested these honeybees, killing them, which would leave their huge stash of honey untended. Mite infestation is a huge problem in this country.
Part of the top of our Saginaw home now lay exposed to the elements, but no rain was predicted. Never mind: it came anyway. The builders rushed to temporarily tarp the wound, and will secure the roof later today, after the rest of the honey is extracted.
Sweet!