About 5 years ago, I became obsessed with bees… But when the reality of keeping a few thousand extra critters alive set in, I had a rare moment of adulting and decided to compromise.
Instead, I figured I’d be the cool Aunty that fed them all the good stuff with none of that tiresome child-rearing responsibility.
And so began one extremely geeky excel spreadsheet containing a calendar of bee-friendly plants that would provide sustenance through the seasons.
Fast forward to a few months ago, when my medicinal market garden was flourishing and I’d been using my neighbour Marion’s raw honey and beeswax in my weird little potions & salves.
Then a few months ago, she announced she was selling up…and I had the same thought that preceded every single questionable decision I’ve made in my life.
“Fuck it… how hard can it be?”
While I LOVED the idea of having this wonderful little workforce buzzing around home, I’m the sort of person that can’t eat a crumpet without getting honey in her hair… So the idea of all that sticky smooshing, while negotiating not getting stung in the pants – did raise a few tiny flags.
And let’s just say, the learning curve has been steep – with the smooshing being the least of my concerns.
What I’d hoped would be a kinda set-and-forget situation has morphed into yet another source of animal angst in my life.
“Girls, are you ok? Why are you slow getting out of bed this morning?”
“Are you cold?”
“Do you have mites?”
“Please don’t sting me while I stethoscope the side of your hive..*”
And OH MY GOD, don’t get me started on water troughs… As if checking them isn’t tedious enough in the drought – I’ve now fashioned a multitude of ‘bee ladders’ and other survival craft to ensure they can drink safely with the animals.
So anyway, here we are… With approximately half a million bees under my guardianship, I decided that a ‘proper’ photo was required for this post – not one of those glorious stock photo close ups.
And with this, I can confirm, that I am no longer a cool Aunty – I am territorial Bee Mother.
Lioness to my Pollinator cubs..
Because after quickly snapping this photo, so as not to interrupt the ladies in their toil (and ideally not provoke a mass stinging attack). I came back inside and zoomed in on my handiwork…
“YOU LITTLE CUNT!” were the not very motherly words that came out…
Because right there, when I zoomed in was my arch nemesis.
The European Wasp…
So please forgive me for the premature closing of this post, I am off to make another Wasp Trap – from supplement buckets & hay string.
You can find out how to do it here – DIY Trap for Cunty Wunty Waspies
Yes get rid of those bastards a good wasp is a dead wasp!!