Ricky Ralph started a new job, this New Year, as a driver and operator of a crane and pole hole drilling truck for a construction company. His previous job, with a company that cleared vegetation from power lines, finished up when after eight years, the company lost the contract. He was laid off, not unusual in that industry, where contracts move from company to company and the new contractor then hires all the laid off staff.
But Rick was ready for a change. He talked to people and looked about and through a contact he found the new job which offered full training to get the necessary ticket and excellent pay and conditions, far better than those of his previous job. Rick's new job should, he said in an email, should see him through to retirement.
Since the Feb 7 fires he's been flat out, and working overtime on weekends. One of the electrical companies his company contracts to has 87 transformers to replace on poles in fire devastateded areas, each costing $35,000.
Rick is a Cat barracker in the AFL. There's definitely something of the cat in him. When I first met him at school (over forty years ago) he was the nimble, quick footed tennis champion, toying with opponents of his age group like a cat does a mouse, playing them around the court till their final submission in exhaustion. I can see him in my mind's eye now, tucking into a counter lunch like the cat that got the cream.
A cat has nine lives. I wonder about the veracity and origin of that saying, as I count back through the years. He's used up quite a few. At least four I'd say, maybe five. But at 57 he's got a few to go, so he should see a ripe age.
I look forward our annual counter lunch soon. I'm paying. He knocked me off in the last year's footy tipping, as he has the last three. I'll bet he licks his plate and grins like a ...
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Bushfire Opinion
In the Opinion section of today's Age newspaper, a well written article titled 'First we mourn, then we must learn our place', by John Schauble, author and firefighter, makes interesting reading. It has helped me temper the media bombardment of the past week, and my own rampage of thought provoked by the tragic statistics.
Debate and opinion will rage in the weeks and months to come. Should you defend or stay? Should there be more prescribed burning? Or less? Were warning and emergency systems adequate? Should council regulations restricting vegetation removal be relaxed? Who is to blame?
John Schauble says it comes back to some fundamental truths. "The first is that there is only one absolute guarantee in a bushfire. If you are not in the area when a fire occurs, you will not be killed by it. All else is uncertain." I agree.
The second fundamental Schauble gives, "is that Australians -- even those in bushfire-prone areas -- have largely lost contact with their environment." Again, I agree. We go from offices and shopping malls in airconditioned cars to air conditioned loungerooms.
John Shcauble's fundamentals crystallize my opinion, which has been developing for some time, that the bushfire-prone mountain ranges of Victoria are no place for residential development. They should be treated as precious water catchment with a minimum of human activity, especially in summertime. Out of bounds in heatwaves except for land owners(farmers) and forest managers.
Towns should be surrounded by cleared, well managed farmland with fire safety a priority. Living in Gembrook, in the fire season I have always taken great comfort from the adjacent potato farms. We had a scare in 1983 when Cockatoo was razed in a firestorm that started in the small Wright forest to its west, and roared through the town on a gale force south westerly wind change. But with the firebreak to our west, the spud farms, the event for us was one of smoke, ash and anxiety, not trauma.
I offer a third fundamental. Forests bring rain. We need more of them.
In the less than two hundred years since serious European settlement began in Victoria, much forest has gone. Fortunes have been made from gold, timber, farming and real estate development, as we tapped into the virgin natural resources on offer. Our thirst for the mythical Australian lifestyle remains unquenched. Population increase has chewed into the foothills and the mountains. Fighting bushfires is part of the culture.
The fundamentals suggest we start a U turn. John Schauble says, "Communicating the risk of fires to those who are most at risk must become the priority. Getting our community to accept the risks in the face of new challenges, such as climate change, involves altering ingrained beliefs about the environment and our place in it." Again, I agree entirely. In 1939, in perhaps our biggest bushfires, about 50 people were killed, mostly mill workers, who were about the only people living in the bush. Now, 70 years on, our Toyotas, Holdens, Fords, Nissans, Mazdas, Hyundais, Suzukis, Mercedes BMWs etc, allow many more people to smell the gum leaves daily.
Where will people live if we can't expand into the bush? Good question. John Schauble says, " The past week has been a test of faith for many of us in the bushfire business." The past week also tests the notion that constant population growth is necessary and good.
The rethink is not only about the deathtoll and the billions of dollars needed to replace infrastructure. It's another step in learning how to live on this continent. Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees.
Debate and opinion will rage in the weeks and months to come. Should you defend or stay? Should there be more prescribed burning? Or less? Were warning and emergency systems adequate? Should council regulations restricting vegetation removal be relaxed? Who is to blame?
John Schauble says it comes back to some fundamental truths. "The first is that there is only one absolute guarantee in a bushfire. If you are not in the area when a fire occurs, you will not be killed by it. All else is uncertain." I agree.
The second fundamental Schauble gives, "is that Australians -- even those in bushfire-prone areas -- have largely lost contact with their environment." Again, I agree. We go from offices and shopping malls in airconditioned cars to air conditioned loungerooms.
John Shcauble's fundamentals crystallize my opinion, which has been developing for some time, that the bushfire-prone mountain ranges of Victoria are no place for residential development. They should be treated as precious water catchment with a minimum of human activity, especially in summertime. Out of bounds in heatwaves except for land owners(farmers) and forest managers.
Towns should be surrounded by cleared, well managed farmland with fire safety a priority. Living in Gembrook, in the fire season I have always taken great comfort from the adjacent potato farms. We had a scare in 1983 when Cockatoo was razed in a firestorm that started in the small Wright forest to its west, and roared through the town on a gale force south westerly wind change. But with the firebreak to our west, the spud farms, the event for us was one of smoke, ash and anxiety, not trauma.
I offer a third fundamental. Forests bring rain. We need more of them.
In the less than two hundred years since serious European settlement began in Victoria, much forest has gone. Fortunes have been made from gold, timber, farming and real estate development, as we tapped into the virgin natural resources on offer. Our thirst for the mythical Australian lifestyle remains unquenched. Population increase has chewed into the foothills and the mountains. Fighting bushfires is part of the culture.
The fundamentals suggest we start a U turn. John Schauble says, "Communicating the risk of fires to those who are most at risk must become the priority. Getting our community to accept the risks in the face of new challenges, such as climate change, involves altering ingrained beliefs about the environment and our place in it." Again, I agree entirely. In 1939, in perhaps our biggest bushfires, about 50 people were killed, mostly mill workers, who were about the only people living in the bush. Now, 70 years on, our Toyotas, Holdens, Fords, Nissans, Mazdas, Hyundais, Suzukis, Mercedes BMWs etc, allow many more people to smell the gum leaves daily.
Where will people live if we can't expand into the bush? Good question. John Schauble says, " The past week has been a test of faith for many of us in the bushfire business." The past week also tests the notion that constant population growth is necessary and good.
The rethink is not only about the deathtoll and the billions of dollars needed to replace infrastructure. It's another step in learning how to live on this continent. Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees.
Monday, February 09, 2009
A Big Country
Perhaps I should have titled this post 'Fire, Flood, Watermelon'. It was line ball. I went for 'A Big Country'.
Last Friday night, outside, there was an eerie stillness, somehow suiting the end of a tough working week of hot weather. After a bath and a tantalising dinner of lamb mince tacos and burritos with salad, I was ready for a movie. Frustrated that the movie I'd had on order from the DVD shop hadn't been returned ('How to Throw your Mother From the Train'; Brent Gazzanica recommended it to me to help my writing) I flicked through the satellite channels and settled on Movie Greats, 'A Big Country'.
Oddly I can't remember having seen it before, although the big musical theme was so familiar to me. It was number one track on all the old 'Great Western Movie Themes' LP's. It was made in 1958, a classic western starring Gregory Peck, Chuck Heston, Chuck Connors and I think Burl Ives. I loved it, especially the part of the resolute Peck in his role as a retired sea captain in the unfamiliar setting of ranch life and range wars.
The forecast for Saturday was that of a day from hell, 44C with gale force wind. I went to bed dog tired and prepared to have most of the day off hiding from the heat, catching up on bookwork.
I woke at dawn a bit after 6.00am. The morning was as eerily still as the previous evening. No leaves moved as I lay in bed looking out the window into the garden. I remembered the forecast and thought to myself, almost like a premonition, this 7th of February will be one that will be etched permanently in memory.
The sun burnt hot as it rose over the eastern hills when I walked the dogs. It was 32C when I returned home and 39C before midday. By afternoon there was a strange orangey light as the sun filtered through smoke; the temperature on our deck for most of the afternoon was 42/43C. The wind picked up and was gusty but, mercifully, it was not as strong here at Gembrook as it must have been elswhere. Melbourne recorded it's highest ever temperature, 46.4C, and as the day unfolded news of fires in various parts of the state began coming through. We lost power at 6.00pm and with it the phone also goes due to our setup with answering machine/cordless phones.
Our power was restored Sunday morning. I saw the workers up a pole on my walk. It seems our outage was unrelated to the fires. As of now, Monday morning, the count of lost lives is at 108. The weather's cool but fires are still burning around Victoria and we can only pray for favourable weather conditions in the coming days.
The phone rang twice while I was in the bath last night, both times it was mates ringing to check if we were OK. The first was 'Grub' at Hansonville. He's fine but the air's thick with smoke there and he's nursing a broken leg. He was in hospital during the heat wave a couple of weeks ago after he was caught and bowled over by a cow in a cattle pen. The second caller was Dave Dickson.
"How are you 'Will'? Are you safe from the fires?"
"Gidday Dave, just hold on, I'll dry my ear. Yeah, were fine so far. Nothing real close, we've been lucky, the Dandenongs haven't gone up. Where are you? Last I heard you were in Canada on your honeymoon about six months ago. You sent a card from the Rockies."
"We're about half an hour out of Charters Towers. It's been raining here like you wouldn't believe. We're locked in, all the roads are cut and there's washaways. It'll be some time before we can get to town. It's rained every day this month and every day in January except for five, I counted."
"I wish we could have some of the rain here. We've had nothing to speak of in that time. I've never seen it drier. Leaves crisp and crackle under foot as you walk. It's been so hot trees are shedding leaves and foliage is burnt to buggery on the bush. It's going to be a tough year. What are you doing at Charters Towers?"
"We're looking after a property here, 25,000 acres. We work three days a week. There's no one else here, just us. A good place for newlyweds." He laughed. "If you could see this mate, you'd love it. I'm feeding a young red kangaroo off my hand, a beautiful little thing it is."
"What does it come up on the porch?"
"No, I'm in the kitchen, it comes in the house. It's like a pet, follows Jodie everywhere, even into the shower. It loves a shower."
"Into the shower?"
"Yeah. It's good. She cleans it up when it gets shitty. It won't go into a body of water though, outside, no way. Not like the swamp wallabies I saw the other day. I was going past a gully and there were four heads sticking out of the water eating the top of the grass above the water."
"Is there a shortage of grass on the hills?"
"Nah! There's 3 foot of grass everywhere with all this rain. They just love the water. Swamp wallabies. I felt a bit like one myself a while ago. What happened was there was two bulls in a cattle yard on the other of the river. We're on a hill with a creek on one side and a river on the other. In the dry you can drive straight across the river at the crossing but now it's about 60 metres across and about 12 feet deep and flowing quite fast."
"The property owners locked the bulls up after hard work catching them, they were going to shift them, but it started raining and the truck wouldn't have got out, so they left the bulls penned, planning to get them the next day and left on the quadbike. But it kept raining, there was no way to get back to let the bulls out. The boss was going to organize a helicopter, but I said 'don't do that', I'll swim across the river and walk to the bulls. Our nearest neighbours, they have six kids, live a couple of k's away on the other side of the river, so I thought I'd take them a big watermelon from the garden."
"I had two changes of clothes and a pair of running shoes I bought in Canada for about $180, in a plastic bag, so to get the watermelon across I tied a length of rope around my waist and to the other end I tied the handle of a big plastic bucket into which I put the watermelon. Off I went. The current carried me downstream quicker than I thought it would, I didn't realize the bucket would drag me so much."
"If I'd been there, Dave, I would have told you that."
"I crashed into some tee trees sticking out of the water. There was a log the floods must have brought down held up by the tee trees, so I climbed on to it, but in trying to pull up the bucket I dropped the plastic bag and my clothes floated off. I wasn't going to lose my runners so I swam downstream after them, and then going back to the log against the current I was quickly exhausted. I lost the watermelon, but I made it to the neighbours and he went and let the bulls out. Apparently four feet of water had gone through the yards at the flood peak. The bulls would just have had their heads out of water."
"You haven't changed Dave. Take it easy. At least Jodie must be happy, to stick it out." Jodie's Canadian.
Dave laughed again. "Well, she's not got wheels to get away. Nothing's going anywhere for a while here. Give my love to everyone down there."
" I will mate. See ya. Thanks for ringing."
Last Friday night, outside, there was an eerie stillness, somehow suiting the end of a tough working week of hot weather. After a bath and a tantalising dinner of lamb mince tacos and burritos with salad, I was ready for a movie. Frustrated that the movie I'd had on order from the DVD shop hadn't been returned ('How to Throw your Mother From the Train'; Brent Gazzanica recommended it to me to help my writing) I flicked through the satellite channels and settled on Movie Greats, 'A Big Country'.
Oddly I can't remember having seen it before, although the big musical theme was so familiar to me. It was number one track on all the old 'Great Western Movie Themes' LP's. It was made in 1958, a classic western starring Gregory Peck, Chuck Heston, Chuck Connors and I think Burl Ives. I loved it, especially the part of the resolute Peck in his role as a retired sea captain in the unfamiliar setting of ranch life and range wars.
The forecast for Saturday was that of a day from hell, 44C with gale force wind. I went to bed dog tired and prepared to have most of the day off hiding from the heat, catching up on bookwork.
I woke at dawn a bit after 6.00am. The morning was as eerily still as the previous evening. No leaves moved as I lay in bed looking out the window into the garden. I remembered the forecast and thought to myself, almost like a premonition, this 7th of February will be one that will be etched permanently in memory.
The sun burnt hot as it rose over the eastern hills when I walked the dogs. It was 32C when I returned home and 39C before midday. By afternoon there was a strange orangey light as the sun filtered through smoke; the temperature on our deck for most of the afternoon was 42/43C. The wind picked up and was gusty but, mercifully, it was not as strong here at Gembrook as it must have been elswhere. Melbourne recorded it's highest ever temperature, 46.4C, and as the day unfolded news of fires in various parts of the state began coming through. We lost power at 6.00pm and with it the phone also goes due to our setup with answering machine/cordless phones.
Our power was restored Sunday morning. I saw the workers up a pole on my walk. It seems our outage was unrelated to the fires. As of now, Monday morning, the count of lost lives is at 108. The weather's cool but fires are still burning around Victoria and we can only pray for favourable weather conditions in the coming days.
The phone rang twice while I was in the bath last night, both times it was mates ringing to check if we were OK. The first was 'Grub' at Hansonville. He's fine but the air's thick with smoke there and he's nursing a broken leg. He was in hospital during the heat wave a couple of weeks ago after he was caught and bowled over by a cow in a cattle pen. The second caller was Dave Dickson.
"How are you 'Will'? Are you safe from the fires?"
"Gidday Dave, just hold on, I'll dry my ear. Yeah, were fine so far. Nothing real close, we've been lucky, the Dandenongs haven't gone up. Where are you? Last I heard you were in Canada on your honeymoon about six months ago. You sent a card from the Rockies."
"We're about half an hour out of Charters Towers. It's been raining here like you wouldn't believe. We're locked in, all the roads are cut and there's washaways. It'll be some time before we can get to town. It's rained every day this month and every day in January except for five, I counted."
"I wish we could have some of the rain here. We've had nothing to speak of in that time. I've never seen it drier. Leaves crisp and crackle under foot as you walk. It's been so hot trees are shedding leaves and foliage is burnt to buggery on the bush. It's going to be a tough year. What are you doing at Charters Towers?"
"We're looking after a property here, 25,000 acres. We work three days a week. There's no one else here, just us. A good place for newlyweds." He laughed. "If you could see this mate, you'd love it. I'm feeding a young red kangaroo off my hand, a beautiful little thing it is."
"What does it come up on the porch?"
"No, I'm in the kitchen, it comes in the house. It's like a pet, follows Jodie everywhere, even into the shower. It loves a shower."
"Into the shower?"
"Yeah. It's good. She cleans it up when it gets shitty. It won't go into a body of water though, outside, no way. Not like the swamp wallabies I saw the other day. I was going past a gully and there were four heads sticking out of the water eating the top of the grass above the water."
"Is there a shortage of grass on the hills?"
"Nah! There's 3 foot of grass everywhere with all this rain. They just love the water. Swamp wallabies. I felt a bit like one myself a while ago. What happened was there was two bulls in a cattle yard on the other of the river. We're on a hill with a creek on one side and a river on the other. In the dry you can drive straight across the river at the crossing but now it's about 60 metres across and about 12 feet deep and flowing quite fast."
"The property owners locked the bulls up after hard work catching them, they were going to shift them, but it started raining and the truck wouldn't have got out, so they left the bulls penned, planning to get them the next day and left on the quadbike. But it kept raining, there was no way to get back to let the bulls out. The boss was going to organize a helicopter, but I said 'don't do that', I'll swim across the river and walk to the bulls. Our nearest neighbours, they have six kids, live a couple of k's away on the other side of the river, so I thought I'd take them a big watermelon from the garden."
"I had two changes of clothes and a pair of running shoes I bought in Canada for about $180, in a plastic bag, so to get the watermelon across I tied a length of rope around my waist and to the other end I tied the handle of a big plastic bucket into which I put the watermelon. Off I went. The current carried me downstream quicker than I thought it would, I didn't realize the bucket would drag me so much."
"If I'd been there, Dave, I would have told you that."
"I crashed into some tee trees sticking out of the water. There was a log the floods must have brought down held up by the tee trees, so I climbed on to it, but in trying to pull up the bucket I dropped the plastic bag and my clothes floated off. I wasn't going to lose my runners so I swam downstream after them, and then going back to the log against the current I was quickly exhausted. I lost the watermelon, but I made it to the neighbours and he went and let the bulls out. Apparently four feet of water had gone through the yards at the flood peak. The bulls would just have had their heads out of water."
"You haven't changed Dave. Take it easy. At least Jodie must be happy, to stick it out." Jodie's Canadian.
Dave laughed again. "Well, she's not got wheels to get away. Nothing's going anywhere for a while here. Give my love to everyone down there."
" I will mate. See ya. Thanks for ringing."
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Apis Update
"There are no bees in my vegie garden, there's no fruit on the tomatos, no pumpkins, no cucumbers. What I can do about it?"
The same day that Marguerita rang in the morning about her white iris, almost two weeks ago now, Huit rang in the evening.
"I don't think it's a lack of bees, Huit. There's only a few tomatoes on my plants, and I have 3 hives of bees fifty metres away. I'm not sure tomatoes need bees anyway. I think December was far too cold, and since then it's been so dry, and now hot. Just a bad year."
"No I'm sure it's a lack of bees, there's not a bee to be seen anywhere. None."
Huit's mind was made up. He wanted me to bring a beehive and put it in his garden.
"I might be able to bring a hive over if I can find time to go through them and organize one. I haven't done anything with them this year, except put spare boxes on top to stop the moth grubs chewing out the combs. I've been busy. It won't be tomorrow or the next day. If I can I'll get one over to you on the weekend. I'll have to bring them at night. I'll call you first."
I didn't feel committed, but I checked out the bees on the Sunday. The nucie I'd started after the failed swarm capture at Mt.Burnett had successfully raised a new young queen, and what a beauty. Not long as far queens go, but fat and robust, a lovely coppery colour, and laying like a ripper. It'd be the easiest to move to Huit's, being small, but one of the other strong hives would do a better job. The other hives were populous with a small amount of honey in the third box, some of it starting to candy, and the top boxes empty. My earlier feelings were correct. Not a good year for bees, little if any honey surplus.
I knocked the first hive next to the nucleus down to a double, planning to take it to Huit's later. I put the scratchy box half full of honey in the shed, and took the empties off the other two hives. At least the hot weather would be good for extracting, was my thought. I did the same at 'Sunset', then visited Harry in Le Souef Rd. and checked his 2 hives as I'd arranged with him. There was some honey there, between the two hives, and I told him my plan was to extract on Tuesday. I'd see him about 1.00pm Tuesday. (I'd offered to extract Harry's honey when I did mine. As poorly set up I am to extract honey, it's easier for me, I have an extractor and I reorganise my shed which is an improvement on Harry making a hell of a sticky mess in his kitchen.)
After Sunday night's roast lamb, cooked in the webber, enjoyed with several glasses of red wine, I was in no mood to shift the bee hive. I went out with a torch and locked the bees in, then came in and rang Huit to say I'd be at his place a little before 7.00am. "You'll need to be there so we can decide where to put them."
With the bees locked up, there was no need to move them before dawn, provided the morning was not too hot. Huit was waiting for me. We agreed on a site and I told Huit to stay well away from them for the day as they wouldn't be too happy being disturbed on the Sunday then locked up overnight. The forecast was for very hot weather, and without nectar coming in bees could be testy at the least.
By late Tuesday morning, I'd managed to empty my shed of tools etc. and set up the extractor and tanks. I removed the honey from my beehives then collected Harry and his frames of honey which we extracted first. I took him home with a good tub of honey straight out the the extractor and a bucket of cappings a little while later and I put the sticky combs back in his beehives. Harry's wife Hannah was so grateful to me that her kitchen was spared. They could strain the honey at their leisure.
Back in my shed, with the temperature around 40C, I extracted the four half full boxes of half candied honey with robber bees all about. Tough going, believe me, at the end of which, after what seemed like days of preparation and work, I had about 40kg of honey. The hardest I'd ever worked for so little honey it seemed.
That night, the phone rang again. It was Huit. "Carey, I just wanted to tell you the bees have settled in really well. There are bees everywhere, all over everything in the garden."
"Good. I thought you might worry if they were all hanging out on the front of the hive in the heat. If they do that it's OK, it's how they cool down the inside of the hive, getting out to make space and fanning air through."
"No I didn't see that. They are just flying in and out, as busy as bees. Matter of fact I got stung, but I didn't ring to tell you that. I was watering quite near and I thought it was a blow fly buzzing near my face so I swatted at it, hitting it away and it came straight back and stung me on the nose."
"Gee, I'm sorry about that Huit. There's no nectar coming in much and they'll be a bit cranky, especially soon after the move."
It's alright. I didn't ring to complain. But I'll stay well away from them. They're savage. I don't think they like me. It really hurt too. Wilma put some stuff on it."
I couldn't help but have a little chuckle to myself. "If they give you more trouble Huit I'll come and get them."
By Saturday last, after the heat wave from hell during the week, for some reason I had a bit of an 'egg' swelling on the left side of my forehead, maybe some allergy or a spider bit or something. I was completely stuffed after the week's heat and watering, again it was a hot day, 37c after the 'cool' change dropped the max from the mid 40's of the previous few days. I took it easy, mucking around straining honey.
Late in the day I walked down to the bees to check the stack of empty supers behind them. I didn't bother with a veil. As I lifted the lid, a robber bee flew out and stung me right between the eyes. Two more got me quickly before I could get the hell out. My eyes swelled up to match my forehead.
I kept my hat low and sunglasses on all day Sunday. How dare I chuckle at Huit. It's definitely not a good bee season.
The same day that Marguerita rang in the morning about her white iris, almost two weeks ago now, Huit rang in the evening.
"I don't think it's a lack of bees, Huit. There's only a few tomatoes on my plants, and I have 3 hives of bees fifty metres away. I'm not sure tomatoes need bees anyway. I think December was far too cold, and since then it's been so dry, and now hot. Just a bad year."
"No I'm sure it's a lack of bees, there's not a bee to be seen anywhere. None."
Huit's mind was made up. He wanted me to bring a beehive and put it in his garden.
"I might be able to bring a hive over if I can find time to go through them and organize one. I haven't done anything with them this year, except put spare boxes on top to stop the moth grubs chewing out the combs. I've been busy. It won't be tomorrow or the next day. If I can I'll get one over to you on the weekend. I'll have to bring them at night. I'll call you first."
I didn't feel committed, but I checked out the bees on the Sunday. The nucie I'd started after the failed swarm capture at Mt.Burnett had successfully raised a new young queen, and what a beauty. Not long as far queens go, but fat and robust, a lovely coppery colour, and laying like a ripper. It'd be the easiest to move to Huit's, being small, but one of the other strong hives would do a better job. The other hives were populous with a small amount of honey in the third box, some of it starting to candy, and the top boxes empty. My earlier feelings were correct. Not a good year for bees, little if any honey surplus.
I knocked the first hive next to the nucleus down to a double, planning to take it to Huit's later. I put the scratchy box half full of honey in the shed, and took the empties off the other two hives. At least the hot weather would be good for extracting, was my thought. I did the same at 'Sunset', then visited Harry in Le Souef Rd. and checked his 2 hives as I'd arranged with him. There was some honey there, between the two hives, and I told him my plan was to extract on Tuesday. I'd see him about 1.00pm Tuesday. (I'd offered to extract Harry's honey when I did mine. As poorly set up I am to extract honey, it's easier for me, I have an extractor and I reorganise my shed which is an improvement on Harry making a hell of a sticky mess in his kitchen.)
After Sunday night's roast lamb, cooked in the webber, enjoyed with several glasses of red wine, I was in no mood to shift the bee hive. I went out with a torch and locked the bees in, then came in and rang Huit to say I'd be at his place a little before 7.00am. "You'll need to be there so we can decide where to put them."
With the bees locked up, there was no need to move them before dawn, provided the morning was not too hot. Huit was waiting for me. We agreed on a site and I told Huit to stay well away from them for the day as they wouldn't be too happy being disturbed on the Sunday then locked up overnight. The forecast was for very hot weather, and without nectar coming in bees could be testy at the least.
By late Tuesday morning, I'd managed to empty my shed of tools etc. and set up the extractor and tanks. I removed the honey from my beehives then collected Harry and his frames of honey which we extracted first. I took him home with a good tub of honey straight out the the extractor and a bucket of cappings a little while later and I put the sticky combs back in his beehives. Harry's wife Hannah was so grateful to me that her kitchen was spared. They could strain the honey at their leisure.
Back in my shed, with the temperature around 40C, I extracted the four half full boxes of half candied honey with robber bees all about. Tough going, believe me, at the end of which, after what seemed like days of preparation and work, I had about 40kg of honey. The hardest I'd ever worked for so little honey it seemed.
That night, the phone rang again. It was Huit. "Carey, I just wanted to tell you the bees have settled in really well. There are bees everywhere, all over everything in the garden."
"Good. I thought you might worry if they were all hanging out on the front of the hive in the heat. If they do that it's OK, it's how they cool down the inside of the hive, getting out to make space and fanning air through."
"No I didn't see that. They are just flying in and out, as busy as bees. Matter of fact I got stung, but I didn't ring to tell you that. I was watering quite near and I thought it was a blow fly buzzing near my face so I swatted at it, hitting it away and it came straight back and stung me on the nose."
"Gee, I'm sorry about that Huit. There's no nectar coming in much and they'll be a bit cranky, especially soon after the move."
It's alright. I didn't ring to complain. But I'll stay well away from them. They're savage. I don't think they like me. It really hurt too. Wilma put some stuff on it."
I couldn't help but have a little chuckle to myself. "If they give you more trouble Huit I'll come and get them."
By Saturday last, after the heat wave from hell during the week, for some reason I had a bit of an 'egg' swelling on the left side of my forehead, maybe some allergy or a spider bit or something. I was completely stuffed after the week's heat and watering, again it was a hot day, 37c after the 'cool' change dropped the max from the mid 40's of the previous few days. I took it easy, mucking around straining honey.
Late in the day I walked down to the bees to check the stack of empty supers behind them. I didn't bother with a veil. As I lifted the lid, a robber bee flew out and stung me right between the eyes. Two more got me quickly before I could get the hell out. My eyes swelled up to match my forehead.
I kept my hat low and sunglasses on all day Sunday. How dare I chuckle at Huit. It's definitely not a good bee season.
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