They installed the first colony into one repaired Reyes hive.
Then another.
Then the third.
Caleb had imagined something dramatic.
It was not.
Frames moved.
Boxes closed.
Entrances reduced.
Feeders checked.
Then they waited.
The first afternoon, Caleb sat fifteen feet away and watched.
Workers flew out.
Returned.
Some carried pollen.
Tiny yellow and orange baskets packed on their hind legs.
He wrote:
R1 — strong orientation flights.
D3 — fewer foragers? Check tomorrow.
P2 — calm.
Walt looked over his shoulder.
“You planning to write down every bee?”
“If I can.”
“You'll need more paper.”
Three days later, Caleb opened the hives again.
Walt stopped him.
“Why?”
“To check.”
“What?”
“Queen.”
“Why?”
Caleb hesitated.
Walt crossed his arms.
“You're opening because you're nervous.”
“Maybe.”
“Leave them alone.”
“How do I know everything's okay?”
“You saw pollen going in?”
“Yes.”
“Traffic normal?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop disturbing them because you need emotional reassurance.”
Caleb hated that lesson.
He remembered it.
Not all management meant intervention.
Sometimes the correct action was observation.
Over the next month, the colonies expanded.
Fresh comb appeared.
The queens laid.
Caleb learned brood patterns.
Eggs.
Larvae.
Capped brood.
A healthy central pattern looked almost solid.
Scattered empty cells could mean many things.
Poor queen.
Chilled brood.
Disease.
Sometimes nothing serious.
Walt taught him not to diagnose from one clue.
“People like one explanation.”
He said.
“Bees rarely cooperate.”
The first major failure came in June.
Caleb acquired a small queenless colony from a beekeeper leaving the hobby.
The bees themselves appeared healthy.
Caleb thought he could introduce a purchased queen immediately.
He watched several videos.
Read the instructions.
Still rushed.
The new queen arrived in a small cage with attendants.
Caleb placed her into the colony.
He shortened the acceptance period because he was impatient.
The following day, he found her dead.
He stared at the tiny body for a long time.
Twenty-five dollars.
Gone.
More than the money, he felt stupid.
Walt came over.
Caleb showed him.
Walt did not comfort him.
“You rushed.”
“I followed the cage instructions.”
“You followed half.”
Caleb looked irritated.
Walt continued.
“Queenless workers need time.”
“They need to recognize the new pheromone.”
“You don’t introduce because you’re excited.”
“You introduce because the colony is ready.”
Caleb closed the hive.
“I know.”
“No.”
Walt pointed at the dead queen.
“Now you know.”
Caleb wrote the lesson in capital letters.
BEES DO NOT CARE ABOUT MY SCHEDULE.
The next queen introduction went slowly.
Caleb checked that the colony was truly queenless.