As of this morning we are officially beekeepers! This was one of our goals from last year that never came to pass, so we set it as a goal for this year and ordered two packages of Italian honeybees in February. Two because everything that I’ve read indicates that having two hives gives you a good comparison. We chose Italians since friends had recommended them as the gentlest honeybees. Gentle is good.

The packages arrived via postal service early this morning. Have pity on our poor post office – to date they’ve received live bees, live birds and live plants for us. At this point they probably flinch whenever they see our address come up. When Rachel went to the window and said she was there to pick up bees the clerk said he didn’t need a tracking number. They knew which one was ours.

Anyway, I put them into their hives late this afternoon when I got home – apparently this is the best time of day to put them in their new home. It’s amazing what one can learn through YouTube. And speaking of YouTube, every single one of the beekeepers presenting installed the packages without a bee suit. No gloves, no mask, nothing. As I’m watching these videos over the last few days to gear up for this event I’m thinking, yeah, totally NOT doing that. A bee suit came in the beginner bee kit for a reason, and I for one intend to use it.

Then came this afternoon. I’m staring at the bees and I’m looking at all the traffic going down our street. It’s late afternoon, so there are still quite a few people driving home from their evening commute. All that’s on my mind is how many people would notice a blindingly white bulky suit (we try to keep our homesteading activities at least quasi-discrete), and really, with all these people on YouTube doing it without a bee suit, why should I? Besides, the kids are perhaps a little too eager to see Dad put on this ridiculous white suit. It is ridiculous looking after all, isn’t it?

Vanity will probably be the death of me.

So, with surprisingly little trepidation, I reach for the hive tool and opened the first package. Bare hands. Bare face. Short sleeves. And shorts. I get the package open. Bees fly out. I remove the canister of food. More bees fly out. I get about 80% of the way through the installation when I chicken out and get the gloves. Still a bare face, arms and legs. I haven’t been stung yet – I’m more worried that my own nerves and jerkiness during the install will alarm them and cause for them to sting.

By the time I get to the second package I’ve gotten the veil. And I immediately see why experienced beekeepers (and suburban dads who think they know what they’re doing) go in unveiled. It’s not exactly easy to see what you’re doing with the veil on, so I actually removed it before I was done.

I didn’t get stung once. Not even when I felt one crawling down the back of my shirt and I reached down my collar to remove it. Or when I got back in the house and Rachel realized I still had two of them clinging to my clothes and I went outside to flick them off. I got a few mosquito bites. But no beestings. I think Italians were a good choice.

Overall, it was a simple procedure that didn’t take much time, and now all we have to do is ignore them. Part of the reason why we’ve taken on this new project in the midst of our aim to do ‘fewer things better’ is because bees demand very little attention. I’ll check in on them again in a few days to make sure that they’ve settled in and gotten down to work, but after that they only need very occasional checks.