Drone congregation areas … or not?
Despite it still being “T-shirt and shorts” weather, autumn is here.
We've had some lovely warm days, and the bees continue to busy themselves on the Himalayan balsam.
As a beekeeper with 'short arms and deep pockets', this suits me just fine {{1}}.
My winter feeding is almost complete and most colonies have only needed half a block of fondant. The large pile of unopened blocks are securely tucked away in long-term storage for next season (or later), with a few retained for late winter/early spring top-ups if colonies feel light.
I'm gradually ticking off the tasks on the 'to do' list in preparation for the winter ahead.
There are still too many wasps around to use the steam wax extractor (unless I want to do this in the dark, or — even less likely — after wine o'clock. Er, thanks but no, thanks.), or to have a bonfire of old frames {{2}}, but as soon as the first frosts arrive I'll be 'on it'.
Once that's done, the boxes currently occupied by those frames will be empty, so can be stacked up and strapped up for the winter ahead. As I've previously noted, this part of the Scottish Borders is very windy, and anything not secured soon disappears over the fields.
But all those tasks will be done to a different soundtrack … no more twittering swallows, or the incessant disyllabic calls of chiffchaffs, or the ratchet-like reeling of grasshopper warblers. Instead, there are skeins of honking geese high overhead, flying in from Iceland or Greenland, and wheeling flocks of golden plover down from the high hills with their haunting plaintive whistling calls.
The recently planted fields by the house now have a 'fuzz' of new, bright green {{3}}, growth. It looks like winter wheat, which is mildly disappointing as I was hoping for ~80 acres of oil seed rape 😄.
Failing to prepare and preparing to fail
Over the next few weeks and months my beekeeping will be largely restricted to retrospective analysis of the season just gone, and planning for the season ahead.
Yes, there will be a few visits to the apiaries to check for fallen trees, upturned or underweight hives, or for fence repairs and hedge trimming.
However, in terms of what I consider to be the more enjoyable bits of beekeeping — managing colonies, queen rearing, working with the bees — it'll all be in my head.
Along with the voices 😉.
Of course, some beekeepers will give no thought to their bees between now and mid-April.
Once the honey is taken off they 'disengage' (assuming they were ever engaged in the first place).
They might treat for Varroa … or they might not.
Hives are left overwinter with no mouseguards, or (Yikes!) with queen excluders and supers still in situ. Some colonies may not even be fed.
Next season will start in the same way as the season just finishing.
Little or no preparation, with no clue why things worked or did not work, and no idea until that fateful day in mid-April whether the bees survived or not.
If they did survive, the beekeeper will be reassured that their 'hands off/tough love' approach to the discipline works, and see no reason to change.
Bees are remarkably resilient, and they can survive a surprising amount of neglect.
However, that doesn't mean that's the best way to manage colonies.
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Quantifying success
Compare that 'disengaged' beekeeper to someone — let's call them the 'engaged' beekeeper — who tries to work out what happened when things go wrong, or (perhaps more rarely) to understand why other things have been such a success.
I'd argue that there are a couple of ways to easily determine which is the more successful approach, and one way that is far less easy to quantify … but much more important.
- Colony losses, particularly overwinter. These are distressingly high when reported in national association surveys (25–35% in some seasons), but often remarkably low when I discuss them with some 'engaged' beekeepers I know (routinely under 10%, and, not-unusually, zero). If you assume that the truly 'disengaged' beekeeper is unlikely to belong to an association, or fill in surveys, then I think it's also likely that their losses are at least as high as the worst headline figures reported.
- Honey yields. Inevitably these vary depending upon location and season. However, well-managed colonies can produce a lot of honey in a good season. Steve Donohoe (aka The Walrus) reports an average of 44 kg per production colony this year, and a lumbago-inducing 149 kg per colony for Paul Horton. My figures are close to Steve's. For comparison, the Scottish Beekeepers Association 2025 survey reports an average honey yield per colony of 9.6 kg {{4}}. The 2026 figures have yet to be published. And what about those 'disengaged' beekeepers? Who knows?
- Satisfaction of doing something well, and understanding it.
The first two are simple numbers, both of which could be converted — directly or indirectly — into £££ (if you wanted). Hives and honey are both valuable.
The last is priceless.
Which, in a roundabout way, brings me to my notable failure absence of success this season; queen mating, and the start of this winter's attempts to understand it better.