I though Saturday was bad, Sunday wasn't any better. I was supposed to pick up eight queens Saturday morning. On Friday we had flooding of biblical proportions, weather channel front page stuff. Saturday flooded in and couldn't get some of the bees I was going to pull brood from but I make do with what I could get to. While preparing the second three, I notice I was short a jar for the hole in the nuc lid so I grab a jar with a lid slightly rusted on and finally get the ring off. This worked so well I decide to do another for a spare.
This is when things went south on me, I decide to barely tweak it with a vise and spin the jar off with my hands. The jar twists alright as it explodes in my hands. I always hate those brief seconds when you can see how bad off you right before the blood begins pouring. I come up stairs yelling for the wife to get a towel. Keep in mind this is the same woman who can give birth to two youngins but couldn't pull their baby teeth. I finally get her under control enough to patch me up and help me get my gloves back on. I knew I had to finish up before I got stiff and sore. I finished up just in time for my Wildcats to get beat Saturday night.
Sunday the water recedes and wife feels sorry for me and runs to get the queens while I make sure which of the two hives were queenless. First hangover in years, I hate basketball this week, can't do anything with my hands. Get queens and can't manipulate twisty ties I usually use on the cages, so I have another brain storm. I'll hang them with a paper clip. After surviving a mating flight in Georgia, a trip through a deluge of a rain to KY, and 45 minute trip and a 30minute wait it a car at Walmart, I manage to create the perfect guillotine for queens as I place the third in the hive. I love bees to death
