a web of interconnected ideas

I had originally imagined writing a blog post centered on numbers, but after hearing MABA speaker Nathalie B., reflecting on the reactions of beekeeping students at the Atlanta Transition Center, and reading Paul Honigmann’s book, I found myself heading in a different direction. Instead, I want to spend a little time thinking about how confident we are—or think we are—as beekeepers.

The Dunning–Kruger Effect   As we progress from classroom instruction to hands-on beekeeping and eventually to managing colonies on our own, our self-assessment of our confidence changes in ways that don't always match our competence.

On the left side of the graph is the overconfident novice. Imagine someone who has just learned about culling queen cells and suddenly sees queen cells as the solution to every problem—a hammer in search of nails.

The valley of despair might come when that same enthusiastic beginner excitedly shares their new culling knowledge with a more experienced beekeeper, only to be met with surprise or skepticism. It's an uncomfortable moment, but often an important step in learning.

A little farther to the right is the beekeeper who has gained some experience but is still developing competence. They arrive at the apiary with a clear plan for manipulating a hive, only to discover that the bees have different ideas. Instead of adapting, they struggle because the hive doesn't match the script they had written in their head.

On the far right is the seasoned beekeeper. This is someone who reads widely, belongs to their local beekeeping club, and has developed preferred management practices through years of experience. At the same time, they are comfortable listening to viewpoints that differ from their own, knowing there is rarely a single correct answer. For this end of the graph, I've chosen the label "It depends." During her treatment-free presentation at MABA, Nathalie B. returned to that phrase again and again. It depends on the genetics. It depends on the forage. It depends on whether the bees are locally adapted. It depends, it depends, it depends.

Perhaps that's the clearest sign of growing expertise in beekeeping: the realization that simple answers are rare, context matters, and confidence is best paired with curiosity.

continuous low-level mite erosion

A London beekeeper friend gave me two monthly magazines that members of the Bromley Beekeepers receive as part of their membership. One of them was BeeCraft, and while flipping through it, I came across an article by Paul Honigmann.  The name caught my attention. Honigmann literally translates to "honey man," which seems wonderfully appropriate once you start reading his work.

In his article, Paul highlighted a fascinating graph originally developed by Gareth John. It compared two very different approaches to managing varroa mites: a single, one-time treatment versus a continuous daily reduction of just 2% in the mite population. The graph was simple, elegant, and memorable. As a treatment-free hobby beekeeper, it immediately grabbed my attention. There was just one problem—for me, at least. The graph didn’t include the underlying numbers. And if you’re anything like me, that’s unsettling. I don’t just want to see the curve; I want to understand what drives it. Without the math, it felt incomplete… almost like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

So, naturally, I went digging.  With a little help from a large language model (Perplexity), I tracked down a practical growth model used by Randy Oliver. That gave me the missing piece—and from there, the rest fell into place.

Building the Model Behind the Graph

To recreate Gareth John’s insight, we can start with a simple assumption: in the absence of intervention, varroa mites grow exponentially.

M(t)=M₀e^rt

Where:

M₀ is the initial mite population

r is the daily growth rate

t is time in days

Randy Oliver suggests a reasonable rule-of-thumb growth rate of r=0.021 per day during active brood rearing. That corresponds to a doubling time of about 33 days.

For example, if a colony starts with 10 mites:

M(33)=10⋅e^0.021⋅33≈20

What Happens With Continuous Control?

What if the colony continuously removes a small fraction of mites—say 2% per day?

We can model that by adjusting the growth rate:

M(t)=M₀e^(r−0.02)t

Using the same r=0.021

M(t)=M₀e^0.001t

That’s a dramatically slower growth rate.   In fact, when you run the numbers, the population barely increases over time. It’s not quite flat—but it’s close enough to feel like balance.

A Different Way to Think About Control

This is where Gareth John’s insight really lands.  A steady, modest continuous reduction—just 2% per day—can almost stabilize the mite population. Compare that to a one-time treatment, which often leads to a rebound as mites continue their exponential climb.

It raises an interesting question: are the bees themselves already contributing to this continuous “background” mite suppression?  Gareth suggests they might be. And it’s easy to imagine other colony behaviors or environmental factors playing a role as well—hygienic behavior, grooming, brood interruption, or even subtle ecological pressures within the hive.

Kent Beekeepers

In densely populated London, it is not unusual to find beekeepers tending hives on rented sections of community garden plots, known locally as allotments. During a visit this May, I had the opportunity to explore the main apiary of the Bromley Beekeepers, located in the Sydenham area of southeast London.
Having visited many allotments over the years, I was surprised by the scale and energy of this site. The annual allotment open day felt more like a community festival than a gardening event. Visitors enjoyed craft and beverage vendors, live music, food sales (tea and cake) from the clubhouse, and sunny spring weather alongside hundreds of gardening enthusiasts and local residents.
One of the highlights of my visit was meeting several members of the bee club, including Lottie Simpson, creator of a remarkable mud-covered skep. The skep features a carved wooden mask inspired by bee anatomy, and a recently installed swarm has adopted the sculpture as its home, using the mask’s eye openings as entrances and exits. 

The Bromley Beekeepers organization offers members a range of benefits, including two national monthly magazine subscriptions and liability insurance. The visit offered a fascinating glimpse into London's thriving beekeeping community and highlighted the important role that allotments play—not only as spaces for gardening, but also as hubs for education, conservation, and community engagement.

My broader impression from observing pollinators in southern England is that the region appears to support a greater diversity of bumblebee species than I commonly encounter around Atlanta, Georgia. At first glance, this may seem surprising, since the southeastern United States is generally known for its rich biodiversity. However, bumblebees are particularly well adapted to temperate and cooler climates, making the United Kingdom an ideal environment for many species. While Georgia boasts an impressive diversity of bees, much of that richness comes from groups other than bumblebees, including solitary bees, sweat bees, leafcutter bees, carpenter bees, and numerous other native species. In fact, carpenter bees can easily be mistaken for bumblebees at first glance, as the two share a similar size and appearance, despite belonging to different groups.
Carpenter bees can look very similar to bumblebees at first glance.  Key differences 

Feature	Bumblebees	Carpenter bees
Social behavior	Usually social, living in colonies with a queen and workers	Mostly solitary (each female makes her own nest)
Nesting	Underground, in grass tussocks, compost heaps, cavities, etc.	Bore tunnels into wood, bamboo, dead stems, or similar materials
Abdomen appearance	Usually hairy/fuzzy all over	Often has a shiny, hairless black abdomen (especially large carpenter bees)
Colony size	Can range from dozens to hundreds of bees	Usually a single female or a small family group
Genus	Bombus	Xylocopa (large carpenter bees)
		Ceratina (small carpenter bees)

3 feet or 3 miles -- oversimplification

One of the most repeated maxims in beekeeping is the advice on moving hives: “Move them either 3 feet or 3 miles.” It’s simple, memorable… and, in my experience, not quite the full story.

This spring, two of my four hanging swarm traps successfully attracted swarms.

Swarm #1: The Neighbor’s Backyard Adventure
On March 22, a swarm chose a trap hung on a tree limb in a neighbor’s backyard. After letting them settle in for a couple of days, I lowered the trap to a more stable, level position. These traps held five deep, foundation-less frames, so keeping things level was important. My backyard hive stand is only about 540 feet away—far too close for a direct move without causing confusion among returning foragers—ask me how I know.

Using the MABA Bee Neighbor List, I found a fellow club member just over a mile away who was willing to host my temporary relocation. After dusk—bees safely inside—the trap rode shotgun (literally, balanced on my knees while my spouse drove) to its temporary home.

Five days later, I brought the trap back to my backyard hive stand, where it stayed another four days before I finally transferred the frames into a proper nuc box. The bees handled it beautifully.

Swarm #2: A Backyard Puzzle

The second swarm, on April 13, selected my backyard hanging swarm trap—just 50 feet from where I ultimately wanted them.

This time, instead of a long-distance detour, I moved the trap in 10 foot steps. Each move was planned carefully: I leveled the next location the night before, then moved the trap at dawn.

In total, it took five intermediate moves to reach the final hive stand.

What I observed was fascinating: a 10-foot move caused only minor confusion among the bees, and they seemed to reorient themselves within about four hours. No chaos, no mass disorientation—just a brief adjustment period.

Rethinking “3 Feet or 3 Miles”

After these experiences, I’m not convinced the classic maxim tells the whole story. It’s a helpful guideline, sure—but real-world conditions offer more flexibility than it suggests.

If I had to rewrite it based on what I’ve seen, it might sound more like:

“Move them less than 10 feet… or at least a mile away.”

Not quite as catchy—but perhaps a bit closer to reality.

tulip poplar windfall and phenology '26

Spring seems to be arriving a bit early this year—at least in my Atlanta backyard. My records show the first tulip poplar flower windfall appeared on day 84, about 13 days earlier than expected. It’s a small but telling sign that the season is shifting ahead of schedule.

To put this in perspective, I compared my observations with broader indicators like the National Phenology Network’s Spring Bloom Index. This model, based on flowering plants like lilacs and honeysuckles and seasonal temperature patterns, shows that the 2026 spring in Georgia’s Piedmont region is running a few days early compared to the 30-year average.

In other words, what I’m seeing locally matches the bigger picture—spring is getting a head start.

Other Atlanta nectar sources at this time (not shown):

• Chinese Wysteria (invasive)
  
• White Clover
• Spiderwort
• Amur Honeysuckle (invasive)
• Dandelion 

 

1st Tulip Poplar Windfall	Day of Year
10-Apr-2011	100
27-Mar-2012	87
19-Apr-2013	109
12-Apr-2015	102
15-Apr-2017	105
5-Apr-2018	95
11-Apr-2019	101
7-Apr-2021	97
6-Apr-2022	96
24-Mar-2023	83
6-Apr-2024	97
3-Apr-2025	93
25-Mar-2026	84
median	97

15 Minutes of Bee Flight

  

Growing Degree Days

According to Growing Degree Days (GDD), accumulated heat levels in Atlanta are already brushing up against historic highs. You can see it everywhere: trees leafing out, stone fruit bursting into bloom, and pollinators getting a head start on their busiest season. In my neighborhood, bees are making the rounds—crabapple, ornamental cherry, holly, even the occasional dandelion are all part of the early buffet.  Dave Marshall, our swarm commander, received our first swarm call on March 3rd.

15 Minutes of Bee Flight

Back in 2012, NASA coined the unforgettable phrase “Seven Minutes of Terror” to describe the landing of the Curiosity Rover on Mars. It captured a brief, intense, high-stakes moment. I found myself thinking about that on Sunday, March 15, when my own backyard delivered a headline-worthy event: “15 Minutes of Bee Flight.”  At 11 a.m., under warm sun and blue skies, my five-frame hive swarmed.

If you’ve never seen a swarm in motion, it’s easy to miss—or misunderstand. From a distance, it’s just a buzzing cloud. Are they leaving? Arriving? It’s impossible to tell. But when you focus—really focus—on the landing board, the story sharpens. In my case, it looked like a moving walkway, a steady stream of bees flowing outward. The old queen and roughly half of the workers and honey are gone!     

I managed to capture it on my iPhone, a small victory considering how fleeting these moments are. Within minutes, the airborne cloud settled high in a Leyland Cypress tree—far too high to reach. So I did what any beekeeper would do in that situation: grabbed binoculars, stared upward, and chatted with a neighbor about the spectacle.

By the next morning, the story had changed.

I was out at dawn, scanning for the swarm. The good news: they had moved on. The bad news: the temperature had dropped hard overnight. On the neighbor’s driveway lay the aftermath—hundreds upon hundreds of dead bees, casualties of the cold. Maybe a thousand in total. Not nearly enough to represent the full swarm, but enough to tell a sobering story.

These were the bees that formed the outer shell, sacrificing themselves to give the colony a chance to survive. It’s a stark reminder of how collective survival works in a hive—individual loss in service of the whole. My neighbors, wonderfully kind about the whole thing, even asked if I wanted to hold a proper ceremony for the fallen. 

In Summary

And that’s the thing about beekeeping, especially in a year like this. 

What begins as a perfectly timed departure—a warm, sunny launch into the promise of spring—can collide almost immediately with the unpredictability of nature. A brilliant plan meets a sudden freeze. It’s hard not to view it through a human lens, to look for logic or fairness in it. But the bees don’t operate that way. They respond, adapt, endure—or don’t.

Climate Prediction 2026

Brood Break Observations in Two Backyard Hives

8-Frame Hive:
This colony experienced a brief brood break from October 19 to November 19, 2025, but showed no noticeable response to the January 10, 2026 cold snap. In fact, a few drones were spotted on February 8. Overall, the colony’s behavior resembles an early spring buildup more than typical winter activity.
5-Frame Hive:
In contrast, the 5-frame colony slowly responded to the January 10 cold spell with an additional brood break. It has recently begun raising internal temperatures back into the brood range of 92°F–98°F, signaling renewed brood rearing. 

Understanding the BroodMinder Graph
The 5-frame hive graph includes three temperature curves:

• Raspberry curve: Temperature at the top of the lower box
• Purple curve: Temperature at the top of the second box, just beneath the inner cover. 
• Red curve: Outdoor temperature from a third-party source

At present, the purple curve remains below brood-zone temperatures, indicating no brood in the upper box. Meanwhile, the raspberry curve has climbed back toward brood-range temperatures following the most recent brood break.

Understanding the Growing Degree Days (GDD) Graph
The smooth brown line represents the multi-decade average of Atlanta’s Growing Degree Day (GDD) accumulation. GDD measures accumulated heat units and can seem abstract at first.
The jagged green line shows the current 2026 GDD. Prior to January 10, it tracked above the brown average line, reflecting warmer-than-normal temperatures. After January 10, the flat section of the green line indicates temperatures below 50°F. At present, the 2026 GDD has returned to near-average levels. In my swarm-obsessed view, average GDD values suggest a typical start to the Atlanta swarm season.

What’s Next?
The outlook from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration offers limited hope for drought relief. For Atlanta, a modest chance of warmer and drier conditions could support foraging activity.  There is always a gray area between long-term climate outlooks and short-term weekly forecasts, so patience will be essential as the 2026 bee season unfolds.
February and March are likely to bring swings between unseasonably warm spells and freezing conditions. During cold, damp, overcast days with no flight activity, it can be unsettling not knowing what’s happening inside the hive. Fortunately, BroodMinder temperature loggers continue to provide valuable insight and reassurance. Stay tuned for further updates as we follow how these colonies navigate an unpredictable winter.

winter survival improved by about 22% in covered hives

 

Earlier this month, I found myself questioning the results from Google Scholar while researching winter hive insulation. So I changed tactics and turned to PubMed, using the search terms insulation AND hive AND bee. Sorry, Google—but PubMed delivered a shorter, and far more useful list of journal articles.

One study in particular caught my attention: “Honey bee hive covers reduce food consumption and colony mortality during overwintering.” The research offers practical, data-backed insights that are especially relevant for beekeepers preparing colonies for winter.

The study examined full-size, 10-frame hives during the 2020 winter season in central Illinois. About half of the colonies (22 hives) were wrapped for winter, while the remaining 21 were left uncovered. To reduce location bias, the researchers distributed the hives across eight different apiaries, with roughly five to six hives per yard.

For the wrapped hives, the researchers used 4-mm-thick black corrugated polypropylene plastic sheets to cover the sides. On top of the inner cover, they added 1.5-inch (3.81 cm) foam insulation board (Owens Corning Foamular 250, rated R-7.5). To manage moisture and reduce condensation inside the hive, top entrance holes were cut into each wrap. 

The results were compelling. When paired with good overall winter preparation, insulated hives consumed less of their stored food and showed significantly better survival rates. In fact, winter survival improved by about 22% in covered hives compared to uncovered ones. 

Takeaway: If winter insulation is part of your beekeeping plans, this study strongly suggests it’s worth considering. And while the researchers used relatively modest materials, today’s beekeepers can find commercial insulation options with much higher R-values than the corrugated plastic sheets used in this experiment—potentially offering even greater benefits during overwintering.

5-frame tower - Brood Temperature

Preparing for Winter

On October 25, 2025, I insulated the hives using a Bee Cozy, added solid foam insulation above the hive, and placed an overhead projector sheet beneath the inner cover to reduce warm air circulation. I maintain two backyard hives—one 8-frame and one 5-frame—both equipped with BroodMinder temperature loggers.

Brood Break Observations

• 8-Frame Hive: Experienced a short brood break from October 19 to November 19, 2025.
• 5-Frame Hive: Recently began climbing toward the brood zone temperature range of 92°F to 98°F. Initially, I projected it would reach this range within a week based on a linear trend. However, the January warm-up accelerated the process: after bees started foraging for water and outdoor temperatures stayed above 57°F for 24 hours, the hive quickly responded and achieved brood-zone temperature by midday on January 7, 2026.

Nature also responded to the warm spell, with winter-flowering ornamental cherry trees and mahonia beginning to bloom.

Understanding the Graph

The graph for the 5-frame hive displays three curves:

1. Raspberry curve – temperature at the top of the lower box.
2. Purple curve – temperature at the top of the second box, just below the inner cover.
3. Red curve – outdoor temperature from a third-party source.

Currently, the purple curve remains below brood-zone temperatures, suggesting no brood in the upper box, while the raspberry curve has maintained brood-zone temperatures despite the recent outdoor temperature drop.

What’s Next?

January and February will likely bring alternating periods of unseasonably warm and freezing weather. The brood may or may not move into the upper box. On cold, wet, overcast days with no flight activity, not knowing what’s happening inside the hive can be nerve-wracking—but the temperature loggers provide reassuring insights.

Stay tuned for more updates as we monitor how these hives adapt to the unpredictable winter conditions!

hive preparation for winter

 

Refer to Derek’s 2024 paper in the Journal of Thermal Biology, “Are man-made hives valid thermal surrogates for natural honey bee nests?” Derek reports that “bee space above combs increases heat loss by up to ∼70%; hives, compared to tree nests, require at least 150% the density of honey bees to arrest convection across the brood area.”

In a hive, brood heat typically circulates by (1) rising between frames, (2) striking the inner cover, (3) spreading sideways, and (4) descending through the cold bee space.

To improve insulation, I added an external Bee Cozy (R-value 8) and took internal measures to limit brood heat circulation by blocking the bee space above the combs. I used letter-sized plastic sheets (the type made for overhead projectors), placing one spliced and trimmed sheet directly on the top bars beneath each hive’s inner cover.

Moving the BroodMinder sensor

Graph Interpretation
This hive is built from three stacked 5-frame deep boxes—what I call “the tower.” By late July, my BroodMinder temperature graph became nearly impossible to interpret. Frustration set in: back in May, this same 2025 swarm showed far steadier brood-temperature regulation. Why, I wondered, does the BroodMinder sensor not come with clearer instructions? I should have known better than to confuse gadget guidance with actual beekeeping wisdom.
Temperature Events (red pins)
The BroodMinder “temperature events” logic drops red pins everywhere, but that wasn’t my real concern. The bigger story was that this hive swarmed in early June. That event lowered brood temperature by nearly 10°F. Gradually, though, the colony recovered and brood temperatures crept back into a stable thermoregulation range by late June.
Sensor Location
At $40, the hive gets just one sensor from me. This colony began as a single five-frame deep in mid-April, so I initially placed the BroodMinder at the top of that box, above the brood frame, as the BroodMinder instructions suggested. Since then, I’ve twice bottom-supered, so the hive now stands as three stacked deeps. I’m open to moving the sensor—but only with a theory in hand. Random changes don’t sit well with me. My best reasoning so far: (1) the brood nest shifted downward as I added boxes underneath, and (2) bees prioritize brood temperature regulation over regulating honey storage temperatures.
Conclusion
In early August, I finally moved the sensor from the top of the third box down to the top of the second. Coincidentally, Atlanta cooled off that same week, with outdoor highs never breaking 70°F. As the graph shows, this new placement hit the “brood sweet spot”: readings stayed firmly in the Brood Zone Band (92–98°F) despite the cooler weather. For once, life is good—and I’ll just have to find another beekeeping puzzle to obsess over.
Looking back, there was never much at stake. I changed one variable: the location in the stack where I measured temperature. Still, I can’t resist narrating the drama.

deconstructing counting board debris

Green contours surround 2 varroa mites

 
My beekeeping journal
I have several notebooks to journal my hobbies. There is one for the backyard chickens and one for the worm farm - you get the idea, I’m a mess! What’s going on in these journals? Usually, it's just my pencil or ink block letter writings, but when I get excited about a topic, out comes the straight edge and I draw with a mechanical pencil, colored pencil, and highlighter.
The big picture
I usually capture photographs of my counting board and hive inspections for ease of use when I later write in my beekeeping journal or need to capture time and date for my blog. Here, I’m focusing on my counting board debris for a small spring swarm trap capture and using a chatbot interface (for example, ChatGPT). In the spring, the debris begins as beautiful, clear wax mirrors; over time, I see grainy lumps of pollen; then darker wax cappings appear.

In the summer, I find small hive beetles and female varroa mites in my debris observations. For spotting tiny varroa mites, I use a magnifying glass and methodically raster scan (line by line style) the counting board. The mites are approximately 2mm in width (left-to-right) and are nearly all found resting on their feet (back facing upwards). If you look closely you can see their feet sticking out on the mouth side of the insect. I asked the chatbot 1) what is the size of the varroa mite, and 2) is a varroa mite an insect? The chatbot supported this observation as a female mite and goes on to say that a male mite is much smaller and rarely seen outside the brood cell. Here’s a table that chatbot produced. The table values look reasonable, but if you type “add sources” to the chatbot reply, you might be more confident with the results.

Trait	Insects	Arachnids (like Varroa mites)
Body segments	3 (head, thorax, abdomen)	2 (cephalothorax, abdomen)
Legs	6	8
Antennae	Yes	No

Taking the iPhone photo
Here are my steps to photograph the debris board.

• Place the debris board in bright indirect sunlight
• Touch the iPhone screen to focus
• Adjust the brightness slider (icon looks like the sun) until the debris-free region matches the expected white color

I took an additional up-close photo that captured a small portion of the counting board containing varroa mites. Why? This is necessary if you want to see the varroa mite legs with the pixel resolution of my iPhone
Computer vision prototyping
I typed “how to get started with OpenCV and Python” into the chatbot prompt and followed the numbered steps. I made incremental progress by replying to the chatbot with write code using OpenCV and Python to: 1) read my JPG file, 2) define the mite color by clicking on the image, 3) calculate a mask using color distance, 4) dilate the mask, 5) threshold the mask, 6) find external and internal contours, 7) filter contours with area limits, 8) filter contours with approximate convexity limits, 9) filter contours with approximate circularity limits, 10) draw the filtered contours on the my JPG using a heavy green line, and 11) write this result to an image file. This seems like lots of work, but it's a factor of 10 easier than writing my own code from scratch. Sometimes the chatbot would suggest that I upload the file to execute all the steps for me. FYI, there is a “+” icon near the prompt area to browse your computer and upload your JPG file.The mites are reddish-brown and have a shiny spot when their backs are facing the iPhone. In photography, the shiny spot is often referred to as a "specular highlight", and this requires infilling with the processing step #4, dilation.
Computer Vision Conclusion
To detect all the mites I had to trial-and-error adjust my program filters. The computer vision project was interesting, but I quickly reached the pixel limit of my iPhone and my hobby lighting skills. The best news, the filtered contours drew my attention to a few mites that I missed without the program.

BroodMInder Temperature Event

In the beginning
On April 13, 2025, a swarm selected my swarm trap, I transferred these swarm trap frames into a five-frame deep box and added a BroodMinder temperature sensor to the top bar of a brood frame. Hourly the BroodMinder stores the temperature °F (purple line), and when I am within bluetooth range, the temperature data is transferred to the cloud using my iPhone.   The outdoor temperatures °F (red dashed line) are provided by a web provider (Weather Source). 
Flash forward and the graph interpretation
Flash forward to June 2025, and the hive has been twice bottom-supered into something we call ‘the tower’ - a stack of 3x5-frame deep boxes. In an ideal hive, the brood temperature (purple line) is centered in the gray band (92-98 °F) with very little fluctuation over time. However this is not such an “ideal” hive, bursting with overwintered bees. The brood temperature of ‘the tower’ fluctuates in sync with the outdoor temperature and on a good day achieves temperatures in the gray band. I have not discussed the red pins, but hang on, I'm getting there.
The red pins
If the brood temperature is above 92°F, then the sensor logic compares previous temperature measurements with the current measurement. Large temperature increases over a short period of time are flagged as a ‘Temperature Event’ or a swarm detection. “No way,” I said.  “Experimental feature,” I said. On June 3, 2025, I was out skating and my spouse called to say, ‘the tower is swarming, the bees are pouring out of the entrance.”  When I returned to the house, things looked normal-ish…well, the flight activity was less vigorous. After transferring the brood temperature data to the cloud, the graph shows that the spouse’s phone call and the red pin align in time, 11:30 AM. I guess the ‘Temperature Event’ detection worked - it’s not an experimental software gimmick after all. 
Adjusted expectations
The BroodMinder does not inspect, manage, or automate my beekeeping; I put those fantastical expectations aside. Apparently, I created more beekeeping tasks for myself like replacing its battery annually, weekly transferring the brood temperature data to the cloud, and the biggest task of all - interpreting the graph. After the temperature event, “the tower” brood temperature continued to fluctuate in sync with the outdoor temperature. After 16 days, the brood temperature reappeared in the gray band. A re-queening intervention was not attempted and, in hindsight, not required. For a small first-year hive, the broodminder is an interesting data logging tool, and requires lots of graph interpretation.  If graph interpretation is your thing, here’s a link to the BroodlMinder. 

Budapest beekeeping startup

Farmers Market; Tánczos selling Acacia and Linden honey

András describes the bumble bee colony 

 

Zoltan led the honey extraction and honey tasting 

Examining brood comb

 

As a young person, my dad, amongst his other farming community chores, kept beehives in Bakonyjákó, Hungary. Visiting this farming community was on my bucket list, and since work sent me to a conference in Vienna, Austria, I could not resist a piggyback visit to Hungary.

In preparation for the trip, we contacted a Hungarian-speaking guide. Also, I had ChatGPT create a list of common beekeeping terms in English, Hungarian, and the Hungarian phonetic pronunciation. I spent hours repeating out loud the bee vocabulary and listening to Google Translate. Warning, others say I can be annoying in my repetitive habits.

Unexpected first contact with a beekeeper
Setting off from Budapest by car to Bakonyjákó, a wrong turn for lunch brought us to a farmers' market. At the first food stall, we met Tánczos selling honey. Without any spoken words required, I was offered a wooden tongue depressor and jumped into honey tasting. The guide helped me understand that the two varietal honeys are acacia and linden. I spoke to the beekeeper using my limited German and discovered my new friend has 30 hives.

An afternoon with a beekeeping startup, Mézerderdő méhészet
Our guide found a beekeeping activity for us. András greeted us at the entrance of the startup wearing a green hoodie with the text, Méhész vagyok, mi a szupererőd? The guide whispered, “I’m a beekeeper - what’s your superpower?” Three years ago, Zoltan and András purchased a plot of land at the edge of Budapest, and they now run a part-time beekeeping startup focused on what appears to include insect education, beekeeping experiences, and honey sales. The plot supports 50 hives, all with vigorous flight activity, and colonies kept in two box styles. Half of the hives were traditional Hungarian style of boxes, all of the same size, and the other half a mix of box heights, including a very tall deep box.

The afternoon was shared with 30 paying visitors who split into two groups. We set off with András and started by looking at their native and commercial bumble bee hives. My ChatGPT vocabulary is only vaguely useful, perhaps confused in translation, but the guide says family when describing a colony. I’ll guess that these guys interchange the words colony and family when speaking to visitors. Their relaxed and playful style of education wins the trust of the crowd. Somehow, the visit and the word family (instead of colony) shifted my perception, and I find myself in a The Matrix movie moment. The beekeeping experience includes passing around honey supers and brood comb, extraction of a few frames, honey tasting, and more honey tasting. These guys are living the life, and it felt like I had run away with the circus.

Saying goodbyes, I had more questions for András and found him smoking a cigarette - yeah, this is beekeeping in Hungary, and smoking is part of the relaxation culture.

tulip poplar windfall, other spring flowers and phenology '25

 

Based on my Atlanta backyard observations and record keeping, I found this year's first Tulip Popular flower windfall a few days early (day 93) - see my table below.  I compared my first tulip poplar windfall observations with other spring surrogates.  The National Phenology Network leaf out model is another way to determine if spring is early, on time, or late.

Spring Leaf Index Anomaly Map uses the first leaf out of cloned lilac and honeysuckle cultivars as these woody plants are among the first to leaf out or bloom and are common across much of the country.  The model also uses temperature and weather events beginning January 1 of each year.  The current spring is compared with a 1991-2020 average. The map shows that the 2025 Georgia Piedmont region's first leaf out day of the year is a few days early compared to the 30-year average.

Other Atlanta nectar sources at this time (not shown):

• Chinese Wysteria (invasive)
  
• White Clover
• Spiderwort
• Amur Honeysuckle (invasive)
• Dandelion

1st Tulip Poplar Windfall	Day of Year
10-Apr-2011	100
27-Mar-2012	87
19-Apr-2013	109
12-Apr-2015	102
15-Apr-2017	105
5-Apr-2018	95
11-Apr-2019	101
7-Apr-2021	97
6-Apr-2022	96
24-Mar-2023	83
6-Apr-2024	97
3-Apr-2025	93
median	97

Growing Degree Days and swarm collection

In Better Beekeeping, Kim Flottum described Growing Degree Days (GDD) and how this measure of heat accumulation predicts plant blooming. A growing degree day is a formula that reflects temperatures above 50°F which is the most common base temperature.

For example, red maples (Acer rubrum) begin to bloom when they reach a GDD threshold of 30–50 GDD (base 50°F). I started thinking that there was a relationship between GDD and swarms. I returned to Kim’s GDD page over several years struggling to relate GDD and collecting swarms - my favorite aspect of beekeeping.

At first glance, GDD calculator rules and heat accumulation bookkeeping results might look abstract - you are not alone.

Atlanta, GA	Atlanta, GA
First Swarm Date -	Growing Degree Days
Date from David Marshall	(GDD BASE 50 °F) data from NOAA GDD calculator
2-Mar-22	173
25-Feb-23	312
1-Mar-24	176

Explanation of the Atlanta first swarm date versus Atlanta GDD table

Thanks to MABA’s swarm commander, David Marshall, I have three years of swarm collection data and combined these three first swarm dates with NOAA’s GDD plot. GDD measured on the first swarm day shows that 2023 GDD has a surprisingly large value compared to 2022 and 2024. In the table, two of these 3 data points (2022 and 2024) are extremely similar, but I nevertheless connected all points with a straight line. Wow, a relationship between GDD and swarm collection seems within reach!

Explanation of the Accumulated GDD graph

• Smooth brown line is an average of several decades of Atlanta’s GDD calculations
• Blue line is Atlanta’s historically highest GDD calculation (2017)
• Red line is Atlanta’s historically lowest GDD calculation (1915)

Black line passes through Atlanta’s first swarm dates of 2022, 2023, and 2024. For simplicity, Atlanta’s GDD curves for these three years are not shown, but those curves lie between the blue and brown curves. I hypothesize that years with GDD curves closer to the blue curve also have their first swarm date earlier in the year - as much as eight days earlier in the Atlanta area compared to an “average” year.

Explanation of NOAA’s historical last freeze day

Georgia includes a wide range of historically average last freeze dates, which implies that your local bee club GDD curves do not match my experience in Atlanta. Please do not hesitate to share your club’s swarm collection dates with me - I promise to treat your data with respect and acknowledgment.
In summary, it’s not too early to make a plan to find your swarm traps (bait hives) in winter storage and spruce up that trap (paint, frames, and lure) before the start of the 2025 swarm season. Keep an eye on your local GDD curve. In hindsight, Atlanta’s 2023 higher-than-average GDD trend was detectable in late January.