Royal Festival Hive

Visit to another hive

A trip outside the big smoke to see some bees of a more rural persuasion. Retired GP John H is a beekeeper of many years standing and kindly offered to show me round his hives during their first post winter inspection. I took the opportunity of being fully kitted up in beekeeping attire to take a quick self portrait. Proper beekeeper styles innit.

I was very glad to be wearing all that protection. I’ve always kept a respectful distance from the Festival Hive bees, so it was mighty disconcerting to have large numbers of bees flying at my head intent upon scaring me off.

John lifted the lid on one of the hives and discovered that the bees had been busy creating beautiful comb patterns on the underside.

He also showed me the Varroa mite which some think could be responsible for Colony Collapse Disorder.

When we’d finished up we took the comb inside. I dipped a finger in the honey that was oozing out onto the lid. It tasted amazing.

Summer is Icumen

As part of the hive's ongoing program of cultural entertainment choral trio Herb paid the roof a visit on Sunday afternoon. Our uncanny ability to attract rain relented again and the bees were in lively mood as the sun came out. Herb treated them to a variety of bee related musical numbers including this excellent rendition of Summer Is Icumen In a traditional English 'round' written in 1260 which also appears in the climax of the original version of The Wicker Man. I wonder when a hive last flew to these words:

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Top marks to the lead soprano who kept singing after an inquisitive bee landed on her hand during the song.

A Moving Experience

What a day. Without warning John strapped them up and the hive and its residents took a short trip to the more northerly aspect of the roof nearest the Thames as the bees embraced the demands of public life. Never one to shy away from quite literally shouldering his fair share of responsibilities, Kenny M from the Royal Festival Hive Press Office manfully took up position on the front corner, and between him and John the hive was moved (without injury to human or bee) to a new temporary position overlooking the London Eye and Big Ben. Everyone else maintained a safe distance throughout.

John carefully took out a frame:

and to the delight of the assembled we were afforded the first glimpse ever of our Queen, who kept a watchful eye on her loyal subjects (us) as the rest of the bees went about their morning constitutionals. That’s John’s finger, with the Queen visible to the right. The camera was on a long zoom.

The hive is in full flow, and John estimates some 15,000+ bees. In fact there are getting to be so many now it’s becoming harder and harder to remember each of their names.

Appreciating the airborne

Last week the bees received a visit from Gavin Pretor-Pinney, author of The Cloudspotter's Guide and founder of the Cloud Appreciation Society. He started the society in 2004 as a way of gathering together people who believe that clouds are a poetic part of nature and one of the most beautiful of her displays. A little like bees, you might say.

Unfortunately we were under horizon-to-horizon Altostratus or "the boring cloud", a pale grey tupperware sky, during the visit. But we hope after his reading that the bees will have some appreciation of life above the hive as well as life at roof and ground level. Gavin kindly made them honorary members of the society.

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Remember, a cloud in the shape of a bee is something to be enjoyed from a car window or grassy hillside, but a dark cloud of bees is probably a swarm and best dealt with by a qualified professional.

April Fool's Day

For once the sun is shining when we visit the roof.

John gives us the lowdown on the life of a bee inside the hive. The season’s new workers are being produced and the brood nest is currently expanding. The class of April will spend their first five days on housekeeping duties, cleaning cells ready for new eggs to be laid. Then they’re promoted to other duties like guarding the hive and looking after the queen, and producing new wax which is used for building and repairing the comb. At the age of about 15 days, they will start to take training flights to learn where the hive is. Once they’ve mastered this the more experienced forager bees will instruct them (via the waggle dance) where to find pollen, nectar and water. Then they’ll be foragers until they die. Hopefully they’ll die on the wing, so the bodies don’t have to be taken out and disposed of. Most bees die away from the hive - they’re born surrounded by other bees, and they die alone. The bees born now might live a couple of months. In the summer they work so hard the life expectancy drops to 4 or 5 weeks.

This bee was in rude health, and made a smooth landing on Phil H's head in order to welcome him to the team.

Today the bees had all kinds of microphones pointed at them. First of all by Bert who used a solar panel to record the modulations of light interrupted by their beating wings as they crossed the hive threshold.

Then by Mark Aitken, who had been turned in to a bee and flew over from Borough High Street to find out about living conditions on the roof for his gardening show on Resonance FM.

On a more serious note, today John discovered that his staff pass doesn’t qualify him for reduced rates on cups of tea in the RFH cafe. Watch out Hilary, he’d like to have words.