Honey Harvesting, or Why You Should Thank a Bee Keeper

For this past weekend's adventure, I headed east to Newark, OH with my equally adventuresome brother to partake in some honey extracting.  Out in God's Country, in a garage heated up to 90 or so degrees by a wood-burning stove, I met the incredibly informative and entertaining Aaron Kirkingburg and his assorted  family members.  Aside from an extensive knowledge of hunting, fishing, and trapping, Aaron's been keeping bees since he was a kid, and was happy to show this wanna-be homesteader what goes into a honey harvest.  For the record, it's a lot of work, and the amount of honey collected is entirely dependent on the weather, other natural elements (predators, parasites), and the temperament of the bees themselves.

The whole art of beekeeping is another story entirely, so I'm just going to focus on the process used to extract the honey from the honeycombs.  When my brother and I arrived at the Kirkingburg farm, Aaron had already started a fire in the garage stove, heating up the space to help the honey move more freely.  He'd also taken two 'supers'--the boxes in the picture above--and cleared them of bees.  It was a very nice move on his part.

The first thing to do when extracting is to scrape the propolis from the frames.  Propolis is a resinous mixture made by the bees to help seal small spaces in the hive. It's tacky and is impossible to get out of clothing.  (If you're planning on extracting honey, consider wearing clothes to which you have no emotional attachment.)

After clearing the propolis, the frames are pulled out of the super.  This was a rough year for bees, as the early rains in the spring really impacted the pollen production, and thus honey production.  Aaron's yield was a lot less than it normally is (he's harvested up to 1000 pounds of honey in the past), and our project that day was only two supers worth of frames.

The frame above was only half-filled with honey, the frame below was slightly better. One of the surprising things about the whole process was realizing how heavy the more filled frames were.  You don't expect them to weigh as much as they do (a good 4-5 pounds), since you don't (or at least I didn't) picture beeswax honeycomb as particularly heavy.  But when it's filled with honey, it is.

The next step in the process is capping the comb.  It's done over a plastic bucket with a grate, using an electric "knife" to slice off the top layer of the comb and expose the honey. Aaron's been doing this his whole life, so he could zip the knife right up the comb, but a noob like me took a little more time to get the hang of it.  We munched on pieces of the capped comb as we worked, chewing up the wax to get the honey out.  (Kind of like those wax bottles with that crappy food-dye sugar water in them, but about one million times more delicious.)  The honey was dark, rich, and very flavorful...completely different from your standard clover honey purchased at the grocery store.

 After running the knife up both sides of the frame, you use a metal pick (not unlike a comb you'd use to fluff out your 'fro) to pop open any combs not capped by the knife.  It's important to make sure every comb has been capped, otherwise you're not going to get honey from the unopened ones. We had 20 frames to cap and that part alone took probably an hour or two....granted, Aaron is probably much more efficient without the Ham Sandwich family getting involved, but still, it's hot, slow, careful work, where the (obvious) goal is to extract as much honey as possible.  Aaron also melts down and filters the wax when he's done processing to make beeswax candles.  Nothing is wasted.

 Aaron owns an extractor, which is essentially a giant honey centrifuge.  As each frame is capped, it's placed in the barrel, and balanced by weight.  Then you turn the thing on and wait.  As the frames spin, the honey is whipped out of the combs and against the inside of the barrel, where it drips down the sides and collects at the bottom.  We had the extractor running for a couple of hours, during which we took a break to eat, check out some of Aaron's beehives, and let me experience the fun of a bee sting.  (Important lesson:  Bees do not like it when you stand directly in front of their hive door.  They assume you are a predator and don't care that you're just trying to take a nice picture.)

When we finally shut off the extractor, we set up a five gallon bucket with a double filter underneath the drain spigot and watched as our liquid gold flowed out in a sweet, steady stream.  All told, after a full afternoon of work, Aaron probably ended up with about six gallons of honey, at about 12 pounds per gallon.   (He was very kind to give me a container to take home for myself, which I'm saving to enjoy on some homemade bread or biscuits. Mmmm...) When he's done with everything, he wheels the extractor outside, and the bees will come and clean any leftover honey off the equipment, to be reused in their hives. Again, nothing is wasted, and everything gets reused.  The whole experience was eyeopening, in that I had a chance to realize how much time and effort goes into making a jar of honey, and like so many of the livelihoods that rely on nature, it's full of risks and challenges.  So, if you're at your local farmer's market and you see someone selling local honey, support the cause and pick up a jar.  Your beekeeper will appreciate it, and my guess is, you will too.

*Thanks again to the entire Kirkingburg family for their hospitality!  It was a great meeting you all and a wonderful learning experience...I hope you see you again soon!