Mary Celeste

I feel that, yet again, I need to give a new personal perspective on an old theme, that of Mary Celeste Syndrome. For the beginners, the characteristics of this syndrome are startling; seemingly healthy colonies of bees will disappear over night, leaving no trace or clue as to their disappearance. Scientists' heads are being scratched all over the country as theories of varroosis or environmental factors affecting queens' fertility are expounded.

The problem is, of course, that the majority of beekeepers are too well-meaning, straight laced and altogether too wholesome for their own good. One needs only look at the strong tradition of beekeeping in the clergy, to realise that the majority of beekeepers are a decent bunch. However, Reverend Digges would have had a truly different outlook on life if he'd grown up on a housing estate in the suburbs of Manchester.

And so I feel it is time to shed some light on this rather topical debate that is doing the rounds at the moment. In so doing I mean not to offend anyone. Let me put it this way, if I drive into Swindon, park my car for ten days and return to find it gone, I don't stand around perplexed as to the incredibly mysterious occurrence, do I? Yet so often now, I read or hear at meetings, the following, 'The bees had just gone…not even any dead or dying bees were left, it's most odd, they just vanished.' I have put up with biting my tongue for too long.

Let me shout it loud so that you hear me, 'Mate, your bees have been nicked!'

As a collective, we may just be starting to notice these events as the price of a colony of bees is now around £150. In fact, I was at an auction three days ago where I saw a colony sold for £230. These days a man's hives are worth a lot more, especially in a year with such high winter losses. If you leave 3 hives in a corner of some far flung field you should expect the fact they represent £400 to encourage some 'interest;' for those with light (gloved) fingers it must be ever so tempting. Closer scrutiny of data will show that Mary Celeste Syndrome has never been reported in hives that are inaccessible to the public. I bet you the bees in my bedroom observation hive won't suddenly vanish, 'without a trace.' The thing is, of course, that the venerable Rev. Digges could not have entertained the thought that his neighbour might be so brazen as to break the Eighth Commandment. But, as I say, the beekeeping community must drag itself into the modern mind set; there are baddies out there.

Until now the ploy has been perfect, the bees disappear leaving the hive seemingly untouched, yet, like all good magic tricks you don't see the obvious. The double-headed coin or card up the sleeve, is that you will assume the frames are your original frames when you look into your bereft hive. I admit, stealing bees in this manner must be time consuming: placing another hive in the site of the one that is to be stolen, transferring all the frames with brood and waiting for flying bees to enter the new hive must take time. But, if the operation is carried out in the spring, (when the syndrome appears to be most prevalent); when there aren't many bees in the hive; when there aren't any supers; when it gets dark by 6 or 7pm, and most importantly, when you know that Paul Abigail is going to be at church from around about 5.30pm for three hours every Sunday and given that most of his apiaries are out of sight anyway, one can easily see why Mary Celeste, or Grand Theft Syndrome, as it should now rightfully be called, can occur.

In light of this new information there are some obvious ways to combat Mary Celeste Syndrome. By marking your frames you will notice their absence when Mary has visited. Tying down hives will deter the opportunist thief, be suspicious of everyone, never divulge the whereabouts of your hives to anyone and look out for 'disturbance' around your apiary site, footprints, tyre tracks etc.
Maybe it does all go back to a point I made in a previous article where I discussed the beekeeper's need for something (anything) to talk about. In this case, I think the beekeeping community has tried too hard. Still, Mary Celeste Syndrome has filled columns in magazines and she has brought together beekeepers from all over the country on web sites devoted to discussing the new syndrome. If anything can be learned from all this it must be that; we must never overlook the obvious and we should trust no one.
Happy Beekeeping

Chuckle's back and this time he's got a wife.

Chad Cryer