Published: Thursday, 8th May, 2008 09:00
Niall’s the bee’s knees
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FIRST, a confession: I hate the taste of honey.
I have had an aversion to the sweet sticky stuff for as long as I can remember.
It’s a dislike that has persisted ever since I first knowingly tried it in the infant school dining hall.
Today, nearly four decades later, even a bowl of Sugar Puffs remains rooted to the bottom of my list of breakfast preferences.
Bee stings received on holiday with my parents in Brittany as a teenager did nothing to end my antipathy towards one of the most protein-rich substances known to mankind.
So it was with some trepidation that I agreed to meet Donald Smith, secretary of the East Lothian Beekeepers Association, at his hives near Haddington, to find out why local interest in apiculture is at an all-time high.
Secluded
Putting all thoughts of my daughter’s ‘Winnie the Pooh’ dvds and bedroom decorations to the back of my mind, I journeyed out to the secluded apiary where Mr Smith, a microbiologist at Edinburgh University, maintains six hives of around 30,000 honey bees as a hobby and as a second source of income.
He first got into apiculture 10 years ago when he joined the continuous exodus of Edinburgh flat-dwellers to East Lothian’s green and pleasant land.
“My grandfather kept bees in Aberdeenshire and I always had a hankering to do it,” said the married father of two.
“So I joined the local association, got tuition and equipment from members who were reducing their hive numbers or giving up altogether and it just went from there.
“Beekeeping is actually very easy. The bees do all the work.
“All you are basically doing is providing a nice dry home for them. The lazy beekeeper can get away with doing very little.”
Historical records of beekeeping activity in East Lothian are patchy, but according to the Haddingtonshire Courier of the 1880s a formal association existed to represent what was then a thriving cottage industry.
Commercial
After a downturn in popularity in the early 20th century, beekeeping enjoyed a resurgence during the Second World War when sugar rationing came into force. It tailed off again, only to make a strong comeback in the last decade, when membership of the association has doubled to around 50, including the county’s only commercial beekeeper, George Hood, of Ormiston.
Despite periodic fluctuations in the group’s strength, one fact has always remained constant – East Lothian is ideal for beekeeping.
Said Mr Smith: “The county is largely agricultural and there are plenty of plant species around that bees love, such as oilseed rape and lime trees.
“The Lammermuirs have heather, which promotes honey production in the autumn, and you also have good sunshine. It’s certainly not the Mediterranean here, but it’s still one of the sunniest and driest parts of Scotland.
“You don’t need a lot of land to keep bees. A few square yards are enough to put a hive on. Obviously, you don’t want to site it near a public path or where young children may be playing.”
The hive itself comprises a number of wooden frames within a rectangular box, carefully spaced between successive frames to allow bees to build parallel honeycombs without bonding them to each other or to the hive walls.
Inspection
This enables the beekeeper to slide any frame out of the hive for inspection, without harming the bees or the comb, protecting the eggs, larvae and pupae contained within the cells.
It also means that combs containing honey can be gently removed and the honey extracted without destroying the comb. The emptied honey combs are then returned to the bees intact for refilling.
With the arrival in recent years of mite pests, such as Varroa, from Europe and Asia, hive floors are often replaced, at least for part of the year, with a wire mesh and removable tray.
It’s the need to manage disease that is the beekeeper’s biggest challenge.
“If you don’t control mites, whole colonies can die off,” said Mr Smith, handing me a grubby white beekeeping suit, hood and veil.
As I fumbled nervously with the various zips, my anxiety further rose when he pointed out that bees have been known to breach the protective clothing through the trouser legs – although such instances are rare.
Most apiarists eliminate this risk by tucking their leggings into wellington boots.
In my size nine office brogues, I felt truly out of step with the situation, if not a little vulnerable to a nasty surprise in the Trossachs.
In the event, I needn’t have worried. The cooler weather at the start of the summer season meant that comparatively few bees were entering and leaving the hive.
Nevertheless, the several dozen insects buzzing around my head and shoulders as I got up close and personal with one of Mr Smith’s colonies demanded a respectful vigilance. To my relief, I did not have to reach for my smoker, a bellows-type implement used to subdue the bees when honeycombs are being removed. As the first honey of the season was not ready, the lid of the hive stayed shut.
Mr Smith opens his hives around once a week during the summer to remove honey and create fresh space for the bees to start the process all over again.
Like most beekeepers, he ends up with more honey than he can use, so promotes a handy sideline in selling jars to local shops.
“Raw honey is a fantastic food and if you haven’t tasted it then you don’t know what you are missing,” he claimed.
“You cannot buy it in a supermarket. That is all blended stuff, which is bland.”
Steadfastly declining his offer to try a sample, I said I would take his word on it.
And with that, it was time to say a sweet farewell and buzz off back to the office!
For more information on local apiculture log on to www.eastlothianbeekeepers.org.uk
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