{

“html_content”: “

In May, I still anticipate spring’s fresh green, but the oak already shows a lustreless summer hue under weeks without rain, offering no reprieve from a fleeting sense of loss.

Abruptly, a noise rises — a hum almost mechanical — and I see a mass of insects flowing over hawthorns. The honeybee swarm swirls in a cloud before the queen lands, triggering a leisurely implosion as thousands of worker bees join her, forming a solid ball hanging from a plum tree twig.

Few natural events in our benign countryside cause as much panic as a swarm, and given the tens of thousands of stinging insects involved, that reaction is not unreasonable. However, having split from the mother colony as part of reproduction, a swarm focuses entirely on finding new habitation and has no interest in attacking people unless significantly provoked. Left alone, it will harmlessly depart within a few days.

For a beekeeper, a settled swarm is an opportunity to fill a hive, especially valuable in early summer when the colony has time to establish and become productive. “A swarm in May is worth a load of hay,” as the old rhyme goes. I once tested this by selling honey from a May swarm hive and was tickled when the proceeds bought me a trailer full of bales.

Hiving an accessible swarm is surprisingly simple. Without bothering to get my bee suit — a slightly reckless behavior I cannot advise — I approach the insects with a wicker basket and secateurs. Holding the basket beneath them, I cut the supporting twig, causing the bees to drop in with a weighty jolt, and promptly close the lid. In my apiary, a prepared hive awaits with a white cloth serving as a ramp. I empty the docile bees onto the cloth, and they dutifully crawl up into their new home. I just hope they like it and decide to stay.

“Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024” is available now at guardianbookshop.com.

“,
“summary”: “A beekeeper encounters a honeybee swarm in May, hives it with a wicker basket, and reflects on the value of a swarm in early summer, citing the old rhyme ‘A swarm in May is worth a load of hay.'”
}