Calling Jossua — our bee guy — absent-minded is overly nice. When he came to do our installations a few weeks ago (after waiting a month for him to show up) he “forgot” 18 frames for our top two supers. Oscar put it pretty aptly: You forget one or two frames. You don’t forget all 18.
(I asked why he uses nine frames per honey super as opposed to the standard 10, and he said you can space them out a bit more so the bees have more room to build out the comb and subsequently fill with more honey. Not sure if this theory will pan out; we’ll have to see.)
Upon noticing his bout of “forgetfulness,” Jossua told us it wasn’t really a problem and that we could grab them from his store on our way back to Cusco after the installations. That sounded like a plan. But when we finally made it back to his tienda, whoops, turns out the frames weren’t ready. He told us — no surprise here — to come back mañana. But, lucky for me, I got the chance to stand Jossua up that time. (Unluckily, it was because I had salmonella for the third time and was livin’ it up in Clinica San Jose.)
On Sunday, however, Mads and I stopped by Jossua’s shop to pick up our missing frames and low and behold they were ready. Sort of. It seemed more like Jossua had totally forgotten about us, and was scrounging around his store, popping open hives and pulling out any frames that were ready with wax. Still, we managed to score all 18.
Putting them into the hives is another story. Of the 18 frames he gave us, only seven actually fit inside the top supers. The rest were about a quarter of an inch too long. And that’s how I got to test drive some tiny saw called the pitbull. En español se llama caladora con guia laser. Perhaps my Spanish is off — and that’s very likely — but I didn’t notice a laser on this little guy. Either way, I was able to slim down all the extra frames and finally call it a day with our two hives.
Both are thriving, by the way, and las abejitas really seem to be enjoying the early spring dandelions and clovers.