Telling the bees

I had never heard of this before. Telling the bees, was a common practice that kept the bees from swarming or dying. The head of the household would knock on the hive and share important news with the hive. The Royal Beekeeper informed the hives at Buckingham Palace that the Queen had died in 2022.  Guess I better remember to go chat up my hive on important events.

I read about this in a Scottish fiction book, but more than a year ago. I suppose chatting up the bees is better than telling other people. I'm not sure of it's benefit, otherwise. 😁

I need to serve some bees an eviction notice. They moved into the eaves of my house and can't stay there. But I can't bear to poison them. Perhaps I could issue a relocation notice? Is there a particular uniform to wear and a ritual I might observe?

Douglas Alpenstock wrote:I need to serve some bees an eviction notice. They moved into the eaves of my house and can't stay there. But I can't bear to poison them. Perhaps I could issue a relocation notice? Is there a particular uniform to wear and a ritual I might observe?

it's my understanding that bees sometimes communicate with each other via dancing, so some sort of aggressive modern dance near their hive may be in order

Robert Ray wrote:knock on the hive

no royal family could pay me enough to knock on a beehive

Douglas Alpenstock wrote:I need to serve some bees an eviction notice. They moved into the eaves of my house and can't stay there. But I can't bear to poison them. Perhaps I could issue a relocation notice? Is there a particular uniform to wear and a ritual I might observe?

If it's honey bees you are looking to evict, then you may want to advertise on craigs list and see if your region has a local beekeeping club.   A lot of bee colonies died last winter, and so beekeepers are on the lookout for wild bees they can capture.    

J Lovejoy wrote:it's my understanding that bees sometimes communicate with each other via dancing, so some sort of aggressive modern dance near their hive may be in order

This is where I would need to hire summer students. I'm reasonably capable as an amateur musician, but when it comes to dancing I was born with two left feet.

The most likely "dance" will be me on a very tall ladder with a sawzall, opening up the hive so it can be moved. This prospect does not bring me joy.

Douglas Alpenstock wrote:The most likely "dance" will be me on a very tall ladder with a sawzall, opening up the hive so it can be moved. This prospect does not bring me joy.

Yes, that sounds mildly terrifying. Does not bring you joy, you say? it may be worth asking what Marie Kondo would have to say about this. I reckon she may disapprove

J Lovejoy wrote:Yes, that sounds mildly terrifying. Does not bring you joy, you say? it may be worth asking what Marie Kondo would have to say about this. I reckon she may disapprove

On a homestead, sometimes you have to suck it up and do miserable and dangerous jobs. The challenge is to set up multiple levels of safety controls to manage and mitigate the risk.

I've always thought telling the bees made sense....
If I had a family member die, I'd tell the cats and dogs so they knew that Dad wouldn't be coming back. Even if they don't understand the words, I think it's respectful to treat them as members of the family who care. Bees are smart, and I think they deserve that kind of respect too.

Walking in the desert I often came up on rattlesnakes, and I would calmly apologize to them, back away politely, and I never had a problem with any of the over 100 snakes I have done that with. I treat them with the respect they deserve.

Treating animals with respect is a good habit. Who knows what they understand? If not the words, the intent behind the words. I had a boyfriend long ago who would get bees to land on him and he'd pet them. They seemed to like it, they'd stay and get petted, he never got stung, maybe they sensed his good intentions. I think bees are smart enough to be classified as people to be treated with respect.

In an old bbc program, Larkrise, Queenie tells the bees the news.

I may have heard about telling the bees about their beekeeper's death 10 years ago. It has stuck with me so well, when I saw the title of your thread, I opened it with dread. I'm glad everyone is ok.

Well, has anyone told the bees that they have knees, and that they are a marker for how awesome something may be? see also: cat's pajamas

Douglas Alpenstock wrote:I need to serve some bees an eviction notice. They moved into the eaves of my house and can't stay there. But I can't bear to poison them. Perhaps I could issue a relocation notice? Is there a particular uniform to wear and a ritual I might observe?

I recently listened to an episode of the Agroforestry Podcast (Forest Honey from Horizontal Hives) and the interviewee described a great technique for collecting honey bees that have swarmed. May help them relocate!

By John Greenleaf Whittier

Here is the place; right over the hill
  Runs the path I took;
You can see the gap in the old wall still,
  And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook.

There is the house, with the gate red-barred,
  And the poplars tall;
And the barn’s brown length, and the cattle-yard,
  And the white horns tossing above the wall.

There are the beehives ranged in the sun;
  And down by the brink
Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o’errun,
  Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink.

A year has gone, as the tortoise goes,
  Heavy and slow;
And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows,
  And the same brook sings of a year ago.

There ’s the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze;
  And the June sun warm
Tangles his wings of fire in the trees,
  Setting, as then, over Fernside farm.

I mind me how with a lover’s care
  From my Sunday coat
I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair,
  And cooled at the brookside my brow and throat.

Since we parted, a month had passed,—
  To love, a year;
Down through the beeches I looked at last
  On the little red gate and the well-sweep near.

I can see it all now,—the slantwise rain
  Of light through the leaves,
The sundown’s blaze on her window-pane,
  The bloom of her roses under the eaves.

Just the same as a month before,—
  The house and the trees,
The barn’s brown gable, the vine by the door,—
  Nothing changed but the hives of bees.

Before them, under the garden wall,
  Forward and back,
Went drearily singing the chore-girl small,
  Draping each hive with a shred of black.

Trembling, I listened: the summer sun
  Had the chill of snow;
For I knew she was telling the bees of one
  Gone on the journey we all must go!

Then I said to myself, “My Mary weeps
  For the dead to-day:
Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps
  The fret and the pain of his age away.”

But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill,
  With his cane to his chin,
The old man sat; and the chore-girl still
  Sung to the bees stealing out and in.

And the song she was singing ever since
  In my ear sounds on:—
“Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence!
  Mistress Mary is dead and gone!”

Found here, at Poetry Foundation

The bees I talk to are the paper wasps in my greenhouse that patrol for pests.  they will stand tall on their open nests and glare at you if you make a disturbance.   If I talk to them regularly they recognize me and do not get alarmed at me work in the greenhouse.

Some funny telling here
I don't have an answer, but all living things give off pheromones. I think if humans are scared, "they" know. If humans are calm but aware, "they" know it too.
I had similar experiences  to Pearl Sutton.  So who Knows?
There were some experiments with playing classical music or talking to plants which grew better and stronger.
Not meaning to get political, but you can tell the bees to relocate or might end up in El Salvador