Disclaimer: Beekeeping without a suit can be dangerous and should not be attempted lightly. This information is provided for educational purposes, and the suitability of un-suit-ability needs to be determined by the reader.
It's been years since I've worn a bee suit. They're hot and cumbersome, and those veils are hard to see through. Instead, I've learned how to manage myself and my bees so that wearing a bee suit is unnecessary.
I did have a bee suit at one time - It was mostly used by vistors, until the zipper broke. Now it rests on top of the piano, where it has awaited mending for four years. It really hasn't been missed.
Here's my journey, and what I've learned. Suitless beekeeping is not suitable for most beekeepers, but developing a deeper understanding of what affects honeybee defensiveness will make for a better experience for both beekeeper, and their bees.
Idealistic beginnings
In my first year of beekeeping I was like many other new beekeepers: full of delusional purism. Among other things, I decided I didn't want to wear a bee suit or smoke my hives. Taking this road less traveled has paid golden dividends in terms of understanding.
By not wearing a bee suit, I was making myself *directly* available to feedback from the bees. They would quickly register their disapproval with stings, and I adjusted my behavior accordingly.
I didn't get stung much that year - About 30 times over the season. Each sting was tracked on an excel spreadsheet, and each sting taught me what I shouldn't do.
Over time, it became clear that my stings were falling into two categories:
1) Hand placement stings: I picked up a box or a tool with a bee on it, crushing it with my hands, and it stung in retaliation.
2) Bees trapped in my pantlegs: Bees in the grass crawl up my shoes, into my pantleg, and then panic when I move and they get pinned between pant and leg. Panic=sting.
There was a clear pattern emerging: They didn't want to be pinched or crushed, and watching where I put my hands was paramount. Pantlegs were also tucked into socks before approaching the hives.
The most significant takeaway was understanding that they didn't really *want* to sting me. Stinging was a preventable reaction to my own conduct.
Teaching them how to treat you
Another significant lesson was learned early in this first season: A fellow newbeek called me up and told me his hive was stinging everyone in and around his yard. It was so nasty he was even unable to open or manage the hive. Moreso, his health was suddenly failing and he was unable to keep bees any more.
He asked if I'd take his hive, but he needed it gone that night. I didn't want his nasty bees, but he was in a bind. We didn't even know many beekeepers back then that could help. Thus, I showed up at dusk to pick up his angry hive.
When I arrived, he was preparing the hive for transport by nailing wooden supports onto the sides with a hammer. In between hammer strikes he told me about how nasty the hive had become. It was surreal to watch. But my friend wasn't well, so I didn't fuss, and just took the hive home to my yard.
The hive was given two weeks to settle in before I opened it. In keeping with my "experiment", I did so without a bee suit. It seemed fine.
Moreso, I was able to place my face directly upon the top of the bee covered frames, with no ill effect. The hive had calmed right down, and I learned my other significant lesson:
Beekeeper handling plays a significant role in determining hive temperament.
Colony "Temperament", is a measure of where it sits on the spectrum of defensiveness vs forgiveness. It's similar to people. And similar to people, this temperament is determined by both what's happening now, and how it's been treated before. We can think of it as the difference between learned disposition, and situational reaction. The second also depends on the first.
The factors that contribute to temperament
When I was president of the Beekeepers Association the City would engage me to investigate stinging-complaints. In the capacity of a mediator I'd visit the beekeeper being complained about, and work with them to determine what was making their bees defensive. I'd watch how they worked their bees, I'd learn about their setting, and I'd experience their bees for myself. Patterns emerged, and I developed a hierarchy of troubleshooting, starting with the most common:
1) How does the beekeeper work his hive? Gentle or hamfisted? Are they using smoke?
2) Ask beekeeper if hive is being nuisanced by skunks or racoons. Look for signs.
3) Ask beekeeper if mice in or around hives is an issue. Look for signs.
4) How strong/populous is the hive? A stronger hive has more to defend, and will.
5) Inspect hive for health and vitality, Determine if disease is an issue.
6) If all else is ruled out, and only then, rule in Queen genetics as a possibility.
The first and the last items are the most significant, as folks tend to rank them oppositely. Beekeeper handling is rarely considered as a cause, with queen genetics being the go-to explanation for defensiveness.
Consider for a moment that defensive colonies have been getting culled since at least Roman times, while at the same time bees have been bred to minimize defensiveness. It's been a consistent effort to make bees less defensive, and has lead to contemporary honeybees having a temperament close to that of a domesticated dog.
It is my conclusion, based on experience, that beekeeper handling is the most significant determiner of hive temperament.
Situations and behaviors that will influence colony defensiveness
Aside from temperament, bees will react to the situation at hand, including our own behavior.
The season is the reason
Be aware of how the "When" affects hive disposition.
In the spring, colonies are building strength, and are less reactive. In the summer, the abundance of forage makes them honey-drunk and forgiving. It is during this time we allow children outside of our family near our hives. In late summer/fall, forage has dried up and the hive is full of 60,000 workers facing layoffs. Fall "dearth" is a hard time for honeybees, and extra caution is required.
Additionally, hives don't like being grounded due to bad weather. The bees have their own barometers, and will quiesce before a storm arrives. It's not a good time to disturb them.
The final "when" is time of day. Bees are heat hungry, and a colony is least defensive on hot days in early afternoon. It's also the time when the most workers are out and about, working.
When moving, flow like water.
Bees use both smell and movement as a cue. Slow down the cadence of your movement, and make it consistent, steady. Visualize yourself as a mime, or a ballerina. Imagine you're moving through molasses. Don't move quickly then slowly. Move at the same pace. Be slo mo, and you will become invisible to them.
Furthermore, avoid jerky hand movements directly above the hive. Beekeepers already know that quick hand movements invite multiple bees suddenly stinging the hand. It can also put the hive on alert.
Less glove = greater care
Wearing gloves protects you, but also reduces coordination, and prevents you from receiving feedback from the bees. The beekeeper becomes both blunt, and "blind". They may think they are being gentle, but with hands protected, how would they know? Without gloves, a beekeeper can make much finer movements, with greater coordination, and appropriate force.
Start by saying no to crack
When the inner cover is removed, there's a point at which the propolis seal is broken, and the hive gives an audible crack. The same applies for to each box/super, but is loudest when removing the inner cover. Challenge yourself to see how slowly you can remove the inner cover. Rather than a burst of force to pop that lid, use a steady application of force. The more you slow it down, the quieter the pop. Work to the point where you can break that seal without any audible sound. Expect that to take at least 10 seconds, and as many as 30.
Don't be a bear
Bees aren't overly concerned with us naked primates, as we are relative newcomers to their world. Their eternal nemesis, for bajillions of years, has been THE BEAR. A bee knows what a bear is by instinct. The key is to not be mistaken for a bear. You can decrease the chances of being mistaken for a bear as follows:
- Don't wear dark colors
- Cover dark or curly hair with a light colored hat.
- Don't breathe on bees or talk to them. CO2 reminds them of bear breath. When you work the hive, exhale way from it.
- If being nuisanced by a bee, don't swat at it. This bear-like reaction just confirms her worst suspicions. Walk away.
Smok'em if you got'em.
In my first year I didn't smoke bees, thinking adjusting my movement was enough. But as my understanding grew, I learned that smoke serves two purposes:
1) Smoking disables the hive's pheromone-based alarm system. Yes, we've all heard the story that smoke simulates a forest fire, causing them to gorge on honey prior to a bug-out, resulting in a food-coma. My own observations lead me to favor the pheremonal theory. By smoking the hive, we disable their communication system, preventing them from raising the alarm. Hives that are continually put on alert will eventually develop defensiveness. A few puffs of smoke is enough to encourage a chill vibe. More than that will have an irritating and inverse effect.
2) Use smoke to herd them, so you don't hurt them. In my first year I was crushing bees between boxes when I reassembled the hive. I wasn't even aware at the time. Furthermore, the cleanup of those crushed bees spreads disease inside the hive. Instead, I now smoke the top of each box, just enough to annoy the bees into taking cover in the box below. I replace the box above when the coast is clear.
Scent of an attack
The is elementary beekeeping, but will be mentioned for completeness. The smell of Banana is similar to the smell of bees' alarm pheremone. Having bananas on your breath makes you a walking beehive alarm system - one that has been activated.
Bees also don't react well to the smell of garlic and onions because bees don't like people breathing garlic and onions on them either.
Don't crush on your bees
Vertical Crush: Many beekeepers, when separating boxes, will pry a corner up and drop it down, then the other corner up and down, then the other corner, until the seal is broken, before finally prying the box right off. Each pry-up,drop-down motion has the potential to crush bees, as they flow into created openings, and then are squished as it comes back down on them. Instead, start with one corner and keep prying the box in a consistently upward direction, until the point of separation. As you pry, support box up with the other hand to prevent it falling. If it's too much of a challenge to hand strength, using two hive tools can help.
Also, as mentioned previously, clear the tops of frames with smoke to avoid crushing between boxes.
Horizontal Crush: When moving frames or top bars together, it's easy to squish bees that get caught in the way. To avoid squishing the bees, move the hive component into place in an oscillating motion, which annoys the bees our of the way but gives them time to move.
The diagonal twist: When I started out, I met a Polish beekeeper called Pete Butkiewicz who taught me this trick. Instead of placing woodenware directly on the box below, he placed it at a rotational offset. He'd then rotate to align the boxes, which would brush the bees to the side, instead of crushing them along the edges. I've never heard of any other beekeeper doing this other than Pete. Since then, I've met a few beekeepers to who do this, but determined they learned it from someone who learned it from me. Always seems to trace back to Pete.
Read the signs
A honeybee dies when she stings you. She would prefer not to, but will.
Half the time, the decision to sting is an instantaneous reaction. The other half of the time, there is a gradual escalation. It will start with a bee nuisancing your head. If you don't get that message, she will butt you in the head. (No, that wasn't a navigational error, it was a warning). If you're still not getting the memo, she will sting. As soon as the nuisancing starts, walk away. Walk as far as it takes to shake your harasser. Give it a minute for the excitement to die down, and then return to the hive. Reassess hive mood, and consider if it was something you did, or if the hive is defensive. If the harassment starts before you even get near the hive, the hive is defensive, and it's time to troubleshoot why.
Also, a colony's mood can be read by sound. An increase in volume and frequency of a hives buzz indicates an increase in its state of alarm. Listen, and notice the change in sound when the hive is alarmed. The difference is easy to hear when you pop the inner cover.
The current state
At this point, when approaching someone else's hive, I'm able to quickly intuit the temperament, and can determine at what point the hive is starting to feel threatened by me, and back off accordingly. Like approaching a stranger's dog, I approach with caution and read the reaction.
In terms of my own hives, they are very gentle, and I attribute that largely to how I handle them. I've had all sorts of genetics and strains over the years, whether purchased from different sources, whether open-mated splits, or whether they were from swarms of unknowable origin. Regardless, the temperament has always been the same: chill. I can do a full inspection (tear down) of a hive without a single sting. When I do get stung it's almost always the result of bad hand placement.
Working without a bee suit is not for everyone, and really probably not a great idea. But by understanding the principles above, you will become a gentler beekeeper, which is good for you, good for the bees, and good for beekeeping.
Treat your bees well, and they will treat you well.
