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More bees
Nancy sent me this excellent article about the danger bees are in in this world of industrial farming, dependent on pesticides and monocultures. Several of the points were already made in Michael Pollan’s December article in the New York Times, and it was discussed in some detail on 60 Minutes last October as well, but I liked the links on this one, like the “10 things you can do to help honeybees” piece. I also came across this excellent site which has some interesting photos of varroa mites and what they can do to a hive.
Our bee-keeping class met one last time at the farm of our instructors. It was a good chance for the novice bee-keepers to ask some questions, and we got to see and do a number of things before sitting down to tea and cookies.
There was another lesson in marking queens. This picture shows why marking a queen is a good idea; this is a close-up of one side of a frame. Imagine hunting through both sides of 18-20 frames to find your queen. She can prove elusive, particularly if she is busy laying when you look, so she might be waist-deep in a cell and not all that conspicuous. Here you can probably spot her: she is in the centre of the picture with a longer darker abdomen than the others. It takes some practice to find her, particularly when drones are around as they are darker and longer, but have blunt back ends. This queen is surrounded by workers who are shorter and resemble her less.
Pick up your bee (these are drones, used for practice, and sent back to a life of humiliation and teasing by the other bees)…
Transfer it to your other hand, holding its legs, and mark with a marker (different colours for different years: yellow queens, here, are ones that were born last year; this year we’re using red).
Eeeee, lemme go!
A clever device to trap and mark a queen without having to pick her up.
The marked queen – see the dot of yellow – is a little easier to spot in a crowd.
A couple of variations of queen cages: in both cases the cages allow transport or safe introduction of a queen to a new hive.
Larry thumps some bees. “They drop like jellybeans” he says.
Some very keen bees felt this half frame was too short, and built an extension on the bottom.
When Larry speaks, we all listen.
Bee art.
Eggs in situ: tiny but visible, like short bits of thread.
…and then they become larvae. More like shrimp at this stage.
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The end of the prairie
Sunday’s treat was a trip to Mr Spudd’s Snack Shack, which was busy even before and even after we taxed the kitchen’s assembly skills with our multiple orders for veggie burgers, smokies, monster burgers and the like. A surprising number of locals were stopping in for ice cream treats, although the temperature hovered just around 10 degrees celsius. Well, prairie folk: hardy or what?
But all too soon it was bye-bye blackbird
and little bird-house on the prairie
and prairie dog
and tick-proof walks
which a number of us decided to have, against all sanity, on the last morning whose weather was too sweet to leave outside. Off we went through the long and short grasses…
And subsequently, consequently and unwillingly, a number of us carried eight-legged souvenirs back with us on planes and buses and body parts. So I confess I’m quite pleased to be out of ticksville once more, although it is true they are also present here on Vancouver Island. Just not as numerous or active as in this particular season in the lovely Qu’Appelle Valley.
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Some talk about reading, and an evening walk in the valley
Some interesting discussion yesterday about the different ways of reading: for academic purpose vs for writing. Erin and John talked about their ways of preparing during the writing of a poetry project, reading widely and employing techniques of serendipity, or delving and re-delving into more challenging works in order to find directions of thought from them.
Between our excellent meals we have been trying to walk off a pirogy here, a cookie there. One popular destination is Prairie Cherries, where the proprietors sell organic cherry products from their orchard. The variety they grow is a cross between the sturdy prairie classic, the Mongolian Cherry, which is short and hardy but a bit on the tart side; and the pie cherry for sweetness, a variety developed by the University of Saskatchewan.
On our after-dinner tick-catching stroll, we saw another prairie fruit in bloom everywhere: Saskatoon blossoms everywhere.
We met a Red Wing Blackbird.
And a wee Warbler.
A beaver dam…
…and a beaver.
A white horse….
…a black horse.
A deer on a hillside.
And lots of what Gary described as prairie wool. It’s like walking on a down quilt. Would’ve lain down to look at the stars but for the ticks.
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In her latest collection, Rhona McAdam navigates the dark places of human movement through the earth and the exquisite intricacies lingering in backyard gardens and farmlands populated by insects and pollinators, all the while returning to the body, to the tune of staccato beats and the newly discovered symmetries within the human heart.
“…A beautiful, filling collection, Larder is a set of poems to read at the change of the seasons, to appreciate alongside a good meal, and to remind yourself of the beauty in everything, even the things you may not appreciate before opening McAdam’s collection….”
Rhona McAdam is a writer, poet, editor, and Registered Holistic Nutritionist with a Master’s in Food Culture from Italy and a deep-rooted passion for ecology and urban agriculture. Her work spans corporate and technical writing to poetry and creative nonfiction, often exploring the vital links between what we eat and how we live. Based in Victoria, BC, and available via Zoom, Rhona is always open to new writing commissions, readings, or workshops on nutrition and the culinary arts.
