To tend to the bees, one must don a sheepskin coat... Each year, come spring, the beekeeper visits the bees to observe and inquire: "How are things?"
This year, although spring has already passed its midpoint, nighttime and morning frosts persist, and the days resemble March more than April.
The entire apiary needed to be reorganized within seven days—the plan seemed straightforward, but as is often the case, plans are one thing, and reality is another. Consequently, everything deviated from the plan.
What transpired over the winter? Everything imaginable. For beekeeping, which exists in the wild and is inseparable from nature, this appears natural, albeit somewhat "uncultured" and disheartening for the beekeeper.
Woodpeckers consumed the bees; martens frightened and expelled them; a marten established a winter nest in a log hive; a hazel dormouse and hornets also took residence (the hornet queen was actively seeking a place). Beekeepers say that if hornets settle in, bees will follow suit... This occurred in three hives.
One hive's bees did not survive the winter... They perished... I buried them as the old beekeepers instructed. They lacked sufficient stores gathered in their first year.
However, upon inspecting other log hives, I found bees working and flying. Joy filled the apiary.
Thus, I spent each day from 9:00 AM to 7:00 PM tending and crafting—climbing trees 6–10 meters high to clean, repair, seal, and prepare the log hives. This continued for 3–5 consecutive days, and it was truly wonderful.
Ah, of course, I forgot... I needed to hoist a log hive to a new height and location, which took days to identify (I searched in summer, autumn, and spring).
How does one lift a 150–180 kg log hive to 7 meters? I don't know... It just happens.
Well, not exactly... First, one must sketch the tree, calculate the load, conduct geodetic, physical, and mathematical "research," then plan the logistics, and prepare assistants (it's always better with two, but three is ideal—three heads are better than one).
After all this, be prepared for things to go awry.
So, how does the log hive reach the tree? Not easily. First, climb up, then attach lifting equipment, tie knots on the hive, and hoist it. We spent two hours lifting, lowering the hive twice due to minor miscalculations (15 cm off—even such errors occur).
Once hoisted, secure it, seal it, perform a bit of "magic," and head home. That's all for now; later, more log hives will be hoisted, and then we wait.
