The Shy Elusive Queen

Adapted from a poem by Liz Westcott published in Bee Culture

I know she’s in here somewhere, 

It’s obvious where she’s been -

Lots of eggs and larvae …

… I still can’t find the queen. 

I’ve looked in every corner, 

Searched on every frame;

And now I’m at that point

Where all bees look the same.

I look first at the edges

And move towards the middle;

I must be ‘queen dyslexic’ -

To me it’s just a riddle. 

Queen cells are everywhere

In every nook and cranny

A split is clearly called for -

not just one but many.

But ‘til I find Her Majesty

My splits are all on hold;

I’ll curtsy if I have to,

Threats work too, I’m told.

Put the hive aside, they say,

And let the bees fly out

Back to their first site.

With not so many bees about

It surely will be easy then

to find the shy, reclusive, queen ...

The One Who Can’t Be Found.

I’ve been through once, 

I’ve been through twice,

More patience is required.  

And then it finally dawns

On me - perhaps she has expired?

And then, the very final frame ...

I carefully turn it over.

Demurely looking back at me ...

The colony’s cute mother. 

Eureka, and Euphoria,

Now I can proceed

To make the splits I dreamed of 

With everything I need :

foundation, frames and nucleus box 

And that last essential thing -

the piece that makes the jig saw whole

that shy, elusive queen!