A thought on Fortune favoring the prepared

An interesting message was waiting on the home voice mail this evening. Apparently a honeybee swarm was hanging out in the maple tree next to the office. The caller, commendably, was trying to do the right thing, meaning not call the exterminator. So I've left a message on the gentleman's work voice mail, letting him know that we'll take care of it tomorrow, assuming that the bees haven't already found their long-term digs by then. Dennis' beesuit and the oversize IBM swag shirt I wear during our apian adventures are in the dryer now, largely because the lingering scent of smoke would be counter-productive in a swarm scenario.

If the swarm doesn't abscond and we don't make a complete mess of hiving this batch, there are a couple different scenarios that could play out. If it's a tiny swarm, likely for a normal July, the Ladykins and their Queen will shortly be on display at the La Crosse County Fair in the booth behind the Dairy Bar. (In case you were wondering: Why, yes, that is a shameless plug. So glad you asked...) A larger swarm--presaged by our caller's "I've never seen anything like it"--would spend some time in quarantine (to check for foulbrood and mites) before taking up residence next to the other two. In the either case, we have whatever options the two splits (i.e. starter hives with Russian-Carniolan hybrid Queens) care to offer us.

But the point is that we'd be a couple of dorks in beesuits, armed with a saw and a ladder and a cardboard box, were it not for the woodworking competence of Dennis. Dennis who disappears into the garage for a day or weekend and comes out with more-than-functional equipment. (Have I mentioned that I married a quiet genius?) Which, philosophically, more or less pinpoints the no-man's-land between my belief in lean processes and my understanding of the need for a bit of slop in inventory and schedules to roll with slightly freaked-out voicemails. It's not unlike the adage about always trusting your fellow man and always cutting the cards.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not counting on a successful hiving. (Heck, I'm probably jinxing the whole venture just by writing about it.) Because, in seven-plus years of being trained by bees, we've had a perfect record of coming up skunked in such ventures. (n00bs!) As I'm starting to suspect, honeybees are like the Ancient Gods: If you want to give them a good laugh, make plans. But if you want to disgust them, don't try at all.