In the spring of 2015 we planted a bunch of spruces, to one day be a windbreak for our house, and also the bee yard. We planted them much closer together than fully grown trees would fit, otherwise we would have had to wait many years before the area would fill out and the trees would have any effect on the wind. As the trees grew, we would eventually have to thin them, much like people do with crops in their gardens. Whenever I do that, I usually try to find a use for the thinnings. In the case of the spruce trees, the ‘thinnings’ are our Christmas trees.
Snow covered spruces in one of the windbreak areas.
This year is the first year that we were able to harvest one of those trees (the particular tree we harvested was actually from our tree nursery, where we had put a few extra trees we did not yet have space prepared for). It is still small, but it gave the trees around it some room to grow, and we had some tiny ornaments that looked really nice on it.
This year’s Christmas tree
(The title of this post was inspired by my Dad’s sense of humor.)
When we first moved the ‘front yard flock’ of chickens into the hoophouse, only one hen was laying eggs, and some of the chickens were missing feathers. Both were things that are fairly normal for the time of year it was; chickens molt, and replace all their feathers so that they can have fresh feathers for winter to keep them warm. This takes a lot of energy for them and also causes them to slow or stop laying altogether for a little while.
A hen named Winter with fresh new feathers from her molt
Last fall, though, they didn’t slow down nearly as much as this year. And some of them seemed to be about done molting, but they weren’t starting to lay again. Chickens seem to lay better during their molt and times of stress (like a fall where the onset of cold is sudden) if their needs are being met well. Egg laying can be a clue to their health, even though there are factors that can cause them to slow down that don’t have to do with stress or their health (such as the shorter hours of daylight in the winter). Trying to judge how much of a slowdown is healthy, and how much could be avoided with good care is one of those things even experienced chicken keepers debate and disagree on. It seemed clear that the situation of the ‘front yard flock’ could be improved at least.
This hen is an ameraucana, which is a breed that lays light blue or green eggs.
Once in the hoophouse, the chickens were able to move about and scratch around more, searching for greens and bugs and anything else that might be good to eat, and, once they had scratched up some areas, to take dust baths. Dust bathing helps keep parasites off of the chickens, and they seem to really enjoy it. They kick dust or dirt up into their feathers and roll around in the hole they create. When they’re done, they get up and shake out their feathers vigorously.
Chickens dust bathing (the water is brownish because we put some chicken probiotics, which was flavored with molasses, in the water for them)
Now, most of the chickens are looking very sleek with their new feathers and they are starting to lay eggs again. And one young hen has grown very friendly and follows me around whenever I go out there…
Extra friendly young hen nibbling on some greens I was holding out for her
Today was a warm day; in the upper fifties, and the bees were flying. They seem to appreciate a chance to come out during the winter (even if it isn’t technically winter yet, it is for them now). They usually start coming out of their hives at around fifty degrees, but the wind, sun, clouds, and their own level of need all have an effect, so there is no exact temperature that draws them out. If it is a sunny, calm day and they’ve been cooped up for a long time, they may well come out if it is only just above freezing.
Honey bees gathered at a crack between hive boxes in February 2016.
A few days like this, scattered throughout the winter, are definitely beneficial for the bees. Bees are cleanly creatures, and they don’t poop inside their hives. Warm days allow them to leave and make ‘cleansing flights’ which is the term for the flights they make in winter solely to relieve themselves. Warmer days also allow them to clean out any bees that have died while they are in their winter cluster. There are always some bees dying in a normal honey bee colony, but in winter, they almost always die inside the hive, and then have to be removed.
Honey bees at the entrance to their hive in January 2016. The mesh at the entrance is sized so that bees can come and go freely, but mice cannot.
Too many warm days, though, can be a bit of a problem. The bees seem to want to take advantage of any days that are warm enough for flying, but if there aren’t any nectar or pollen sources, there isn’t much for them to do and flying every day can actually shorten their lifespans. The winter bees have to live longer than the summer bees since the colony takes a break, for a month or two, from raising new bees to replace them. Part of the reason the winter bees are able to live longer is that they fly less. Their wings, which wear out eventually, are one of the limits of their lifespans. Another problem is that if the weather is not cold, but still chilly, every bee that ventures out runs a risk of getting chilled and not being able to return. Chilled bees become sluggish, and eventually unable to move. They can be revived easily enough, simply by warming them up, but they usually wind up stuck somewhere where they can’t get warmed up. Sometimes I find a chilled bee somewhere, and breathe on her a bit to warm her up. (They don’t seem to like this; they usually slide their stingers out, but they can’t really do anything since they can’t move.) That usually warms her up just enough to start flexing her flight muscles and eventually revive herself.
I learned about most of this after noticing that my bees seemed to have more trouble with warm winters than cold ones. I knew they had issues with moisture during those winters, but I began to suspect that the warmth itself might have been a factor. This was what I found out when I researched it, but I still wonder if there may be something more to it. The bees that did survive one of those warm winters seemed to have a lot of mites (and the viral diseases associated with them) that following spring. Normally in spring, most of the mites have died off over winter, resetting things for the bees. Then, their numbers gradually increase over the year until winter once again resets their numbers. (Assuming, of course, that they don’t increase too fast, and kill the colony.) So, are warm winters not enough to reset the mite levels for the bees? I don’t have enough winters or colonies worth of experience to say for sure, only enough to notice a pattern that makes me suspicious. In any case, it is enough to make me take the precautions I would take if I knew that to be true.
My very active warré colony in February of 2016 – one of the warm winters
So far this winter, there have been some warm days, but it doesn’t seem to be an overabundance of them. It’s still early, though.
When we first moved the ‘front yard flock’ of chickens into the hoophouse, only one hen was laying eggs, and some of the chickens were missing feathers. Both were things that are fairly normal for the time of year it was; chickens molt, and replace all their feathers so that they can have fresh feathers for winter to keep them warm. This takes a lot of energy for them and also causes them to slow or stop laying altogether for a little while.
