Chapter Four #2
“Mites.” Marsden looked surprised her dad didn’t recognize the problem.
“They’re parasites.” He pointed with the edge of the hive tool.
“See that reddish spot?” Cassie stepped closer.
In the section he’d scraped clear, she spotted a tiny reddish fleck in one of the hexagonal cells.
“The mites get into the brood and weaken the larvae. They can attack the adults too, but you mainly see it in the brood. When the bees hatch they’re malformed and have all kinds of issues.
Sometimes they can’t even fly.” He carefully slid the frame back into the box.
“Varroa’s bad. It can destroy your colony. ”
Her father said nothing. He seemed stunned.
“What causes it?” Cassie asked.
Marsden hiked a shoulder. “Colonies get stressed, maybe they went into winter without enough food. Pesticides are a big problem. They kill the bees that are out foraging, which weakens the hive. A weak hive is susceptible to pests.”
“I don’t use pesticides,” her dad said.
“What about the gardeners, Dad?”
Her dad opened his mouth then closed it again.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Marsden said as he helped her father lower the top box of the other hive to the ground. “Pesticides are everywhere—the golf course, your neighbors. Bees can forage up to three miles. There’s no telling what they get into.”
“Three miles?” Cassie said. “That’s all the way downtown. How do they find their way back?”
“Mental mapping. They have a kind of internal GPS. They use the sun to navigate so they know exactly where to come back to. In fact, if you move the hive three feet, they’ll fly around confused.
When they return, the foragers do a kind of dance to let the others know where the food source is.
” He stopped, looking embarrassed he’d said so much.
“Anyway, that’s how they find their way back. ”
“That’s amazing how they don’t get lost.” Cassie felt a surprising tug of admiration for the bees. So determined to get home. Better than she’d been.
“They have to get back before dark though,” Lilah put in. “They don’t fly at night.”
Cassie’s dad gave the girl an approving look. “There’s a young lady who knows a thing or two about bees.”
Lilah tossed a stick, which sent Charlie scrambling. “Not really, I’ve just hung around my dad a lot.”
“So is there any way to get rid of the mites?” Cassie asked.
“Chemicals,” Marsden said, “but I don’t believe in treating.
There are other options, but depending on how bad the infestation is they don’t always work.
Sometimes you lose the colony and have to start over.
But you can breed for bees that are stronger, then if you get a few mites it won’t wipe out the hive.
Would help if they could forage without bringing back toxins.
” He glanced toward the Kingsley property.
“It’s a shame they’re trying to develop that land next to yours.
It’s the last open space we have in Laurelton. ”
“They want to develop that property?” Her dad looked shocked. He’d apparently forgotten their conversation from the day before.
“Some developer bought it, but they don’t have zoning approval yet,” Marsden said. “The town could tie it up for a while. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
Her dad scowled. “We like this area the way it is, that’s why we bought this house.
” We. The way he said it gave Cassie a pang.
He spoke about her mother as though she were still alive and they were navigating life together.
Her father had been alone a quarter century, but his marriage was still fresh in his mind.
“So,” she said. “What about those new bees? If my dad puts another hive in here, will they get sick?”
Marsden gently nudged a bee off his arm. “I don’t recommend putting in a new hive when you have varroa. You’ll likely lose that one too.”
Cassie glanced at her dad, who was busy inspecting another frame. She lowered her voice. “Look, I’m sure you can tell we need help.”
Marsden nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that.”
“Can you manage the hives? Do you do that kind of thing?”
“I can do as much or as little as you want, as long as he’s okay with it. I can’t come in here and strong arm him. That’ll never work.”
They stood for a moment looking at her dad, who was trying to slot the frame back into the box. This one too, was infested with mites. There didn’t seem much point in looking at any more frames, so Marsden helped her dad put the boxes back together and seal up the hives.
“Dad,” Cassie said, “with the mites and all it doesn’t sound like a good idea to keep these new bees. Mr. Marsden might be able to find someone to take them.”
Her dad removed his veil. His face was set. “I’m not giving away my bees.”
Cassie glanced at Marsden, who rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mr. Linden, the arboretum might let you keep your bees over there, the new ones that aren’t infected. I have an empty hive we could put them in. That way you could work them whenever you wanted.”
“I’m not working my bees somewhere else. I want them here. Don’t want to drive to see them.”
Cassie felt a small ping of alarm. Driving to see his bees definitely wouldn’t work. He needed to be driving less, not more. But the bees meant the world to him. What would he do if he didn’t have his bees?
She glanced at the box, which Marsden had left in the shade of the truck. They were back to square one with a box of bees and nowhere to put them. “I don’t know how we can put these near other bees,” she said. “You understand the hives are infected, right?”
“Of course I understand,” her father snapped.
Marsden stowed his hive tool in his pocket. He looked ready to be gone. “Why don’t you think it over? You can let me know any time. If you find something else, that’s fine, just be sure to get those bees situated in the next day or two.”
“Wait,” Cassie said. She was near panic at the thought of letting him get in his truck and leave. “Would you, I mean I know it’s not ideal with the mites and all, but could you bring that empty hive over here?”
Marsden looked dubious. “I guess I could. You run the risk of the infestation spreading though.” He looked at her dad. “If you’re willing, we could try a couple of things with those infected hives.”
“How about we let Mr. Marsden give us a hand?” Cassie said, willing her dad to be amenable.
“Us?” Her dad scoffed. “Since when do you have anything to do with the bees?”
She tried not to bristle at his tone. She’d like to chalk it up to the frustration of dementia, but the truth was, he’d always been imperious. Making pronouncements, expecting everyone to fall in line.
“Dad.” She couldn’t quite keep the frustration from her voice. “You’re right, I’m not much of an assistant, and I’m not going to be here long anyway. You need a professional.”
Her dad was quiet for a minute.
“Fine,” he said finally. “He can bring over the extra hive, but I’m not turning over my bees to someone else.” He glowered at the two of them, as if they’d cooked up some conspiracy. “I can manage them myself,” he said and began stumping back to the house.
“I’ll bring the hive over first thing Monday,” Marsden said, then surprised her by adding quietly, “I’ve seen this happen before. People get to an age when they can’t handle it, but it’s hard to let go.”
She smiled ruefully. “You don’t want to sneak over in the middle of the night and steal them, do you?”
He shook his head. Under the right circumstances, he looked like he could have a nice smile. “Sorry.”
She waved him off from the top of the driveway to be polite. She’d been here twenty-four hours and had accomplished exactly nothing. It had been one crisis after another—the bees, Andrew.
Five o’clock. She thought about pouring herself a glass of wine but laced up her shoes instead.
Four or five miles would help.