Lizzie Versus Underground Bees…The Bees Won

I had never heard of miner bees, and I had no idea that regular bees could make their homes underground.

Taking advantage of the first spell of really decent weather since 2006…no, that’s not a typo, this is the best weather we’ve had in the UK since 2006, it’s lasted over a week now, I decided to leave the house alone for a while and get some gardening done.

Now, in order to facilitate our move out of the city we had to take on a house that needed work, a huge amount of work. It feels like we’re living in a squat. So bad was it that we had to have the outside painted because our girl wouldn’t tell the kids at her new school where she lived because the first half dozen screwed up their noses and shuddered.

“Ew, you live in the dirty house?” they whispered with an amount of drama only eight year olds can muster. Now she says she lives in the lemon house with the hanging baskets and her honour has been restored.

I need only say that the inside was worse than the outside, and I can highlight how much worse by telling you that the smell of urine was so strong it made your eyes water.

Thankfully, a through fumigation, woodworm and bug treatment and several gallons of bleach has done the trick and our home no longer smells of ammonia, though the smell of paint can get overpowering at times.

Anyway, I digress, back to the garden. When we viewed the house we fell in love with the huge back garden, well huge by UK standards. Coming in at over 200ft long and 45ft wide it is to us, a field.

We went back from the viewing after making an offer on the property telling everyone about the massive garden full of trees. Well, we should have taken a closer look.They were not trees, no. They were brambles, 30 feet high with trunks rather than stems.

There were trees of course, half a dozen conifers that were forty feet tall and so dead on one side the weight of the ‘alive side’ was threatening to topple them. They went before we were sued for killing some innocent passer-by when one fell down. There are two dilapidated apple trees and a pear tree that has seen better days but they are all making a valiant attempt to fruit even though they are growing almost horizontally due to the weight of brambles growing through them.

We started clearing right outside the window that looks out over the garden. We found a patio, a perfectly good but long overgrown seating area, two brick built raised beds stood on the garden side leaving a gap to walk through…very nice.

We carried on and found four sheds yes four, all semi-collapsed and covered in evil, spiky brambles. Moving down we found a chicken coup, complete with skeletons of chickens and mummified bodies of  rats by the dozen.

Keeping going we found what used to be a summer house. The amount of bonfires we had made me very glad that I wasn’t my neighbour. We had to burn it, we had made so many trips to the local tip they thought we were commercial garden clearers and refused to let us in.

It was just beyond the summerhouse we saw the brick wall at the end of the garden and realised we only had another 15 feet to go….wrong. The walls we were seeing were the sides of a series of outbuildings, brick built but ready to collapse. The joy of finding out the garden was 60 feet bigger than we thought was ruined by the thought of just how much longer the job was going to take.

This brings me to the bees.

After an hour or so using lopers and a chainsaw to get through the undergrowth I was tired. I made a cup of tea, threw the cushion onto the path, I forgot to tell you we uncovered a lovely curvy path, we have no idea at this point how far it goes,  and kneeling on the cushion I set to weeding. A big fat lazy bee ambled past me, paying no attention to me at all. I pulled all the little weeds out and then found one that was a bit resistant so in I went with the trowel.

That was my first mistake.

I heard buzzing close by and assumed the big fat bee was back and never having a fear of bees I carried on.

That was my second mistake.

I leaned in closer and dug the trowel in again, wiggling it to loosen the weed, I could have done it by bending down but I was feeling a bit lazy so I was on the cushion, all nice and comfy.

That was my third mistake.

I used the trowel as a lever to lift the weed. Within seconds the ground in front of me was a mass of bees. This confused me to the point I hesitated to move for a few seconds too long

That was my fourth mistake.

Considering I was in shorts and a vest top I am amazed I only came out of it with three stings, it could have been a good deal worse. Vinegar and bicarbonate of soda does take the pain away but as the most painful sting was on my back out of reach I had to stand there pouring the vinegar down my back. I stank of the stuff.

A bit of research on the web, still stinking of vinegar told me all about the various types of miner bees. Problem was mine didn’t look like any of them, mine looked like bumble bees of varying sizes.  A quick call to a local beekeeper and sending him a picture of said bees confirmed they were indeed regular, lovely peaceful bumble type bees.

After explaining to him that the path was solid concrete rather than individual slabs that could be lifted and the bees removed we had to find a solution. The bees had to move out so I could flood the tunnels with water, the kindest way of getting rid of them.

Apparently regular non-miner bees will form colonies in disused rat holes etc…and we had those in abundance. We’d filled them in with ash from our many bonfires as we’d come across them but this one was in the soil where we’d taken down conifer trees and had gone un-noticed. Flooding the tunnel will apparently put the bees off…eventually.

So, in order to cause as little collateral damage as possible the rest of the bees needed to be encouraged to leave. This saw me dressed like a Ninja in 32* heat. Jeans, coat, hat, scarf, gloves I almost passed out I was so hot. I took a broomstick, plunged it into the soil, jiggled it around and then ran like hell.

Seeing several dozen pissed off bees flying around is quite scary, I edged closer and did it again. My mind reeling and a quick prayer that they weren’t crossed with the killer bees of horror movies I turned on the hose and shoved it into the hole.

This pissed them off to the nth degree and saw me beating a hasty retreat into the house. Apparently bees like well drained soil, and if their home becomes wetter than damp they don’t like it and they leave, well, that’s the theory. The problem is they have a really good memory and will return day after day until finally they realise they need to find a new home.

With the bee die offs we have seen all over the world I am keen not to resort to insecticides and think re-education and re-location is the best option…of the bees, not of me just so we’re clear on this. I have invited them to take up residence in one of the trees at the end of the garden by way of compensation.

It’s a few hours since I made my bees homeless and the swarm is now a dozen stragglers that are buzzing around the water filled entrance, the rest I assume are staying the night with friends, or forming a bee diaspora next door or something.

As they are not miner bees it’s unlikely they will find dry ground near the entrance and dig their way down to the original site. I hope not, they are welcome to share our space but at a height out of the reach of kids and pets would be far more convenient.

I feel really sorry about doing this, I suppose the human equivalent is coming home from work and finding your home an unrecognisable pile of smashed up rubble, but our girl getting a bee sting is one thing, getting a swarm going for her because she disturbed them is something else entirely and it’s not a risk I am willing to take.

Take Care

Liz