Won't You Bee Mine?

Ryan has a new hobby.  It's called bees.  Ryan was gifted a beehive last year.  A friend of our neighbor watched Ryan messing with his beehive with no protection whatsoever, and offered Ryan a bee veil.  They talked a while, and the man suggested the hive was doing well enough that they could try to split the hive into two or three new smaller hives.  So that's what they did.  Splitting a hive can't happen at wherever is home for the bees, so Ryan took his hive to the man's house, and they split the hive.

Fast forward to four weeks later, and Ryan has found himself two sets of bee gloves, and bee coats with attached veils.  He convinced me that I should come along on one of his trips to check on his bees.

I am not a big fan of bees.  Over this past year I've become more accustomed to their buzz-iness (bad pun, I'm sorry), and have learned about drones, royal jelly, "honey supers," and other bee related information.  So I put on the bee gear, and watched Ryan play with examine the contents of the hives.

This is my excited face:

Next time I need to pin my bangs back with bobby pins.  They tickled my nose for 20 minutes, and I was unable to do anything but try to blow them away.  It didn't work very well.  On the bright side, the angry bees could only try to sting my face, instead of actually stinging me.  Seriously, when you mess with beehives, the bees go after your face.  It's unnerving, even when you know you are protected.

Ryan was pleased.  All the hives had bee eggs and larva, which means all three have queens now.  They are ready to come home!