With all of the bee paraphernalia safely ensconced in the lower level of my house, the next assignment was to contact my local Beekeepers Association.  I found them warm and welcoming. They encouraged me to enroll in their basic beekeeping course, which (lucky for me) had one vacancy remaining. With winter fast approaching, I concurred that this was not only a marvelous idea from an educational perspective, but an excellent way to curb my appetite for immediate gratification. The course consisted of eight, two hour classes once a week. I cringed at the $100 enrollment fee as I had already incurred over $600 worth of charges, but longed for a relationship with a thriving bee community as opposed to mere graphics and printed words. “Mentors,” I salivated, “card-carrying members with first hand experience to gently guide my naiveté towards knowledge and understanding.” Everything was coming up roses.

Upon arriving twenty minutes early for my first class, I could barely contain my enthusiasm. I gushed at the two instructors that were prepping the classroom and prattled on and on euphorically over my  bon chance to become a new bee keeper. Like a nerdy brown-noser, I offered to pass out materials, set up additional chairs and adjust the projection screen. I nabbed a seat three inches from the teacher’s nose and babbled excitedly to anyone within ear shot about my shiny new top-bar hive equipment that was  patiently waiting for spring assembly.

“Oh,” one of the instructors interrupted, “you don’t want to do that.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, and with mouth ajar, humbly asked,”Huh?”

“Top-bar hiving is not for beginners,” she stated dogmatically . “I suggest you send everything back and repurchase Langstroth materials. You will learn nothing about Top-bar hiving in these classes.”

I was stunned into silence. Was she really suggesting that I box everything up and start from scratch? The moon began to eclipse the sun. I could feel the exhilaration seep from me like the helium from a week old balloon.

“What IS a top-bar hive,” a classmate innocently inquired.

“Oh, it’s just a long box with a lid that looks like a coffin,” the pedagogue said with a shrug. “It’s a very haphazard, inefficient way to manage bees.”

Coffin? Haphazard? Inefficient?  I respected that these instructors were far more experienced than me, but I instinctively took offense. “Now wait a minute,” I heard my kiss-ass-turned-cranky self say as I rose to my feet “Those are very harsh statements. I did a lot of research before I made my decision. I suppose the hive does resemble a casket, although I never thought about that until this very minute, but mostly, it allows the bees to design and create their own environment without constant conventional manipulation.” I realized that I had probably said too much, so semi embarrassed, I sat back down and eyed the nearest exit.

“Well,” conceded teacher #2, we really don’t know much about it. “In these classes you will be learning bee anatomy, biology, and physiology as well as hive management, but for Langstroth hives only.”

The sun slowly moved from behind the moon’s shadow, presenting a glimmer of light. “So that’s  it,” I reckoned, “it’s not that these instructors are anti top-bar hiving, they are simply unenlightened. They were taught traditionally and will continue to do so. They  have no intention of entertaining the idea of alternate approaches.

Having located the escape route, I was in the midst of gathering my things when the classroom lights dimmed and a video displaying a four foot honeybee danced across eyes.

  As the teacher began lecturing and targeting specifics of this magnificent, finely tuned fur ball, I found myself once again bewitched. This foraging damsel displayed purity and innocence as she leisurely rummaged through the petals of a yellow coreopsis before gently lifting her body and hovering over a new blossom. Her backside drooped under the weight of the orange pollen clinging tightly to the saddlebags on her legs, but she landed as lightly as a feather that had been kissed by a baby’s breath.

I eased back into my seat and sighed. “Ok, I guess I can stay for a few more minutes.”