🐝 The Buzz That Changed Me: My First Beekeeping Experience

There’s something poetic about catching a swarm — the idea that a group of wild bees might choose you as their next home. No hive tools. No smoke. Just a box, a scent, and a chance. When I first set up a bait nuc on our land, I didn’t know if it would work. I just knew the hedge was in full bloom, the sun was warm, and the air was humming with the sound of possibility.

And then it happened.

A small swarm arrived. Not a roaring mass, but a gentle little cluster of bees that moved in and started building. I was over the moon. After weeks of watching videos, reading articles, and preparing my setup, the bees had arrived. I was officially — and very suddenly — a beekeeper.

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Building the Bait Nuc

The bait hive I used was an EPP 6-frame nuc with double entrances, made by Old Castle Farm Hives. I added three DN4 brood frames with fresh foundation, leaving space to make it more appealing to scouts. A few drops of lemongrass oil mimicked queen pheromones. I placed the box facing south in a sunny spot on our smallholding — and waited.

It wasn’t long before I noticed scout bees coming and going, inspecting the box. Their numbers increased over several days, and then the magic happened — a cluster formed inside. They’d chosen it. It worked.

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The Short Life of a Small Colony

I watched them every day. Their movement. Their discipline. The way they organised themselves so quickly and began to build comb on the side walls. I even spotted eggs — tiny, rice-sized signs of a queen at work. It was captivating.

But as a beginner, I was eager. Maybe too eager.

In my enthusiasm to support them, I performed an inspection that may have been too invasive. I tried to help by transferring the wild comb they’d built into a frame. I planned to start feeding. I meant well — but bees are sensitive. Especially small swarms. And sometimes, less is more.

Within days, the box was silent. Only a few workers remained. The queen was gone. My little colony had absconded.

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What I Learned (and What I Gained)

Losing the bees was tough. I won’t pretend otherwise. I felt like I’d failed them. But through that short encounter, I learned more than any book could have taught me:

• Bees choose their home — and sometimes, they change their minds.

• Patience is everything. Observation is often more powerful than action.

• Mistakes are how we grow. I’m not a worse beekeeper for losing them — I’m a better one for the experience.

• I learn by doing. Reading and researching helped me prepare, but it was the act of doing that taught me the most.

I also learned to trust my instincts. To appreciate the quiet joy of standing beside a hive and simply watching. I learned that bees are more than insects — they’re a glimpse into a bigger, older, more beautifully complex world.

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What’s Next for My Beekeeping Journey

I’ve kept the bait nuc out, freshly baited and ready. I’ve made contact with a local breeder and I’ve got a queen reserved in case another swarm doesn’t arrive. I’m not giving up. Far from it.

This is just the beginning.

Fields and Fireboots is about learning through doing — whether it’s building a workshop, brewing manure tea, or learning to manage livestock and land in a sustainable way. Beekeeping fits right in. It connects land to life. Mistakes to meaning. Curiosity to care.

So if you’re thinking of getting into beekeeping — do it. Set up a bait box. Read a little. Watch a lot. And when the bees arrive, just take it slow. Let them teach you. They’re very, very good at it.

📸 And if you’re wondering — yes, they posed for this photo. 😄