Enlighten me, exactly how do you 'quietly' hammer in a four inch staple.
We had just moved the bees back to their summer yards after apple pollination. At the time, we didn’t use pallets and forklifts to move the bees. We used the old and dependable “Armstrong” method. Smoke the hive and pick it up, place it on the truck, and get another. Moving 600 colonies into and then out of the orchard made for some long, interesting nights. Because we didn’t use pallets and forklifts, the hives were held together with four hive staples between each hive body, the bottom board being stapled to the bottom box. With a little smoke, hammering in the staples wasn’t a big deal. The bees pretty much ignored the banging, and the job was just one more step in readying the bees for pollination.
After pollination was another story. The bees were not a happy bunch, having been moved twice, once into the orchard, and once back out to their yards. If the bees were managed soon after the move, the slightest disturbance resulted in very angry bees. With so many over-crowded colonies to manage after pollination, I was never one to wait for them to calm down. The day after the bees returned from apples, we were out there reversing brood chambers, performing our swarm control, and adding supers for the flow. Before the colonies could be inspected and manipulated, the dozen staples, holding each hive together, had to be removed.
That was Buddy’s job. Wedge the hook of a hive tool under the staple, and pull the first leg, repeating for the second. As the wood released each staple leg, a loud “creeek” alerted the bees to possible intruders. “Creeek” as the second leg let go.
You must have had one of those hives. You know, the one that you always inspect last because they’re so ill tempered. A colony so mean, that you can’t remove the cover without the bees stapling your socks to your ankles?
Well, Buddy pulled the first leg of the first staple on just such a colony. “Creeek”! Was it a skunk? Was it a bear? Nope, it was Louis’ other brother Buddy. Out came the bees with such a vengeance that Buddy’s only option was to RUN!
Buddy was never one to back down from a challenge, and I did appreciate his willingness to take such punishment. But the job wasn’t finished. There were still eleven staples to pull. He creeps up to the hive from behind, inserts the hive tool hook under a second staple, and twists. “Creeek”, and out they come again, and there goes Buddy across the field, waving his arms and swearing like his sailorman brother. Two down, ten to go.
Eventually, with a ton of smoke, and coating of stings on old knot head Buddy, all the staples were removed, the bees manipulated, and my crew and I moved on the next apiary. The Barcomb yard will forever be remembered as “Buddy’s yard”.
