The Case of the Missing Monarch: Or, How I Nearly Lost My Mind (and My Queen Bee)

Hello fellow nature enthusiasts, aspiring beekeepers, and anyone who's ever found themselves spiralling into a rabbit hole of obsessive hobby-related worries! Today, I want to share a recent beekeeping saga that had me questioning everything, including my sanity. It's a tale of a disappearing monarch, a very sneaky queen, and far too many sleepless nights.

For those of you who've been following my beekeeping journey, you know it's been a mix of pure joy and steep learning curves. Well, add "unnecessary self-inflicted panic" to that list, because my last hive inspection turned into a full-blown detective mission worthy of Sherlock Holmes... if Sherlock Holmes was covered in propolis and muttering to himself about bee anatomy.

It all started innocently enough. Time for a routine check-up on my thriving colony. Everything looked great: plenty of busy workers, glistening stores of honey, beautiful brood. Except... where was Her Royal Highness? The queen. The heart of the colony. The one I'd marked with a neat little dot for easy identification. She was gone. Poof. Vanished.

Now, any experienced beekeeper will tell you that finding a queen in a bustling hive of thousands is like finding a specific grain of sand on a very large beach. But when you're a newer beekeeper, that "specific grain of sand" feels like the only thing standing between your colony's prosperity and its imminent demise.

Where is She??

Operation: Find the Queen (and Lose My Sleep)

My initial calm quickly evaporated. I went through every single frame, slowly, meticulously, probably holding my breath for half of it. Nothing. Not a glimpse of her little marked back. Panic started to set in.

"Oh no," I thought, "She's swarmed! She's been superseded! She's... well, she's gone!"

The internet became my new best friend (and worst enemy). I devoured articles, watched countless YouTube videos on "how to find your queen" (spoiler: they mostly say "look harder"), and diagnostic videos about queenlessness. My mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios. Would they lay drone eggs? Would the colony dwindle? Was all my hard work for naught?!

I decided to perform a "test frame". This involves putting a frame of young brood (eggs and very young larvae) from another queenright hive into the suspected queenless hive. The theory is, if they are queenless, they'll immediately start building queen cells on those young larvae, desperately trying to raise a new monarch.

I put the test frame in, sealed them up, and then... waited. And worried. And barely slept. Every rustle outside sounded like a swarm. Every quiet moment made me think the colony had just given up entirely. My inner monologue was a constant loop of "Where is she? What if she's gone? What if I made a mistake? This is it, my beekeeping dream is over!"

The Sneaky Sovereign and the Missing Dot

Finally, after what felt like an eternity (but was probably just a few days), it was time to check the test frame. My heart hammered as I slowly lifted it out. I scanned for queen cells, bracing myself for the confirmation of my worst fears.

Nothing. Not a single queen cell.

My first thought was, "Oh, they are queenless, but they're too far gone to even try!" (Yes, my brain had officially gone full drama queen by this point).

Then, as I was about to give up and start planning for a combined hive, my eyes snagged on something. There, amidst a cluster of bees, was a slightly larger bee, moving with that distinct queenly gait. No dot. But undoubtedly, the queen.

She hadn't gone anywhere! She hadn't swarmed! She hadn't been superseded! She had simply... lost her little coloured dot! And, as it turns out, she was also being incredibly good at hiding, moving to the underside of frames or tucked away in corners just as I was looking elsewhere. She was, in short, a master of disguise and highly adept at making her beekeeper question their life choices.

The relief that washed over me was immense. All that worrying, all those sleepless nights, all that overthinking – for a queen who was just shedding her accessories and playing hide-and-seek!

Lessons Learned (Mostly About Myself)

This little saga was a humbling reminder that beekeeping, like any new hobby, comes with its moments of doubt and frantic over analysis. Here's what I took away from "The Case of the Missing Monarch":

1. Don't Panic (Easier Said Than Done): Bees are resilient. Give them a chance before jumping to conclusions.

2. Trust the Process (and the Bees): If you've done your due diligence, often things are okay.

3. The Dot Isn't Everything: A marked queen is helpful, but their presence is ultimately confirmed by eggs and brood.

4. My Queen is a Slinky Ninja: Seriously, she's good.

   
   

So, if you're a new beekeeper (or really, anyone starting any new venture) and you find yourself spiralling, remember my dot-less queen. Sometimes, the problem isn't the bees, it's just your own overactive imagination. And maybe, just maybe, your queen is just being super sneaky.

Relief!

Have you had any similar "lost my mind" moments with your hobbies? Share them in the comments below! I'd love to hear I'm not alone!