Wild bees

I was telling a friend of mine about the book I had been reading - Grey Bees by Andrey Kurkov.  It is set in the Donbas region during the civil war in 2014.  The protagonist is a beekeeper trying to keep his bees warm during the cold winter nights by stuffing the bee boxes he has stacked in the garage with musty old blankets and pillows.  Vytautas cut me off to say that is the stupidest thing you can do.  He raises bees himself and said that stuffing bee boxes like that is a sure way to lose half your hive over winter.

He proceeded to tell me how bees can handle the cold.  It is wetness they can't stand, and when you try to insulate a bee box like this you are sure to create condensation inside that kills the bees. Not to mention the box becomes a perfect nesting place for rats and mice that feed on the bees over winter.  Nope, he said, you have to simulate wild conditions as much as possible.  That way bees remain strong, produce more honey, albeit it makes it tougher to get when the time comes to gather it.  They don't like having their honey taken away from them.  You have to be quick and efficient.

I hadn't really paid much attention to bees until I got to know Vytautas.  They are busy this time of year.  Quite a few buzzing around the rhododendrons.  I was surprised by the multitude of colors and patterns.  No two seem exactly alike, so I assume these are mostly wild bees.  Although there are local beekeepers who are now tending bees on roof tops.  Green Hall is close by.

I've gone to Vytautas numerous times over the years to fix our computers.  He still has the same bikini-clad Wurth girl on the wall calendar.  He either likes her or just doesn't worry about calendars.  He's a whizz when it comes to this sort of thing and an excellent beekeeper as well.  At the end of summer he usually gives me a jar or two of his honey.  I treat him with a bottle of a whisky.  He's gotten so interested in the whiskies that he is trying to distill some himself.  

He said he knows a guy in the Telšai region of Lithuania that has been experimenting with whiskies for some time.  Samanė is made from wheat or rye, which gives off a bread smell when you rub it into your skin.  It is clear, as it usually isn't aged very long and can be quite harsh.  Vytautas has taken to aging it in oak barrels for two or more years to get a smoother taste and a nice amber color.  It works as he shared his latest batch with me and I actually enjoyed it for once.

We had a long chat as he installed a new hard drive in my old computer.  I have had this Dell Precission since 2013 and it still works.  He said it is better than the new Dells that have a much shorter working life.  Everything seems to have built-in obsolescence to get you buy the newer models, he said with disgust.

He showed me pictures of the new pond he made at his farmhouse in Žemaitija.  Bees need water too.  He devotes a tremendous amount of energy to his bees, and is proud of the fact that they have a very high survival rate.  He has tried to share his methods with the local beekeepers but they prefer to stick with their old ways even if it means losing so much of their hives over winter.

I guess in that sense Kurkov was true to the character of his beekeeper, a crusty old guy who refused to leave his tiny village when the shelling began.  Only he and a Russian Ukrainian remain.  They were bitter enemies but with no one else to talk with the two formed a begrudging relationship that you would find in a Beckett play.  

One day they notice a lifeless body in the distance.  They are trying to figure out whether it is a Ukrainian or Russian soldier, as neither one of them want anything to do with the body unless he is one of their own.  Binoculars don't help.  That's as far as I have gotten with the book that sits on my nightstand.

Vytautas and I talked about the war, wondering what it will take to push the Russians out once and for all. We aren't as anxious as we were at the beginning of the war. Still, he spends a great deal of time outdoors, sharpening his survival skills.  Each year, he travels with some friends to a remote part of Norway to go salmon fishing.  It is mostly to spend time in the rugged wilderness.  He figures if worst comes to worst, he has his cabin and his bees to fall back on.  I tell him of the store we keep in the basement but in his mind the best thing to do is get out of the city as fast as you can.  If the bombs don't kill you, the marauders will.

We also speculated on the decimation of bees in recent years and if these outdated practices might contribute to it.  He was sure that it did.  Of course, there are many other factors but he said that beekeepers tend to coddle their bees as it makes them more docile and easier to harvest the honey and wax.  Bees should be wild, he insisted, even if you get stung more often.

He enjoys the chats.  When it comes time to settle the score he rebuffs any cash except to cover the cost for parts, which is why I started giving him bottles of whisky.  That he likes.  He prefers the richer flavor of the Bourbons to the Single Malts.  

I told him a funny story about Pappy Van Winkle, which can sell for over a thousand dollars a bottle.  It comes from the same distillery as this Buffalo Trace, I said.  Select batches which they release in very limited quantities, but many say the original is just as good.  I wouldn't know as I could never afford a bottle of Pappy.  He liked the bison on the label.   

I said I was looking forward to his first batch of honey.  Most of his jars are earmarked for relatives and close friends but that he would make sure to save a jar for Daina and me.