The 2009-2010 school year was coming to a rapid close. Teachers were reflecting on student performance and their own learning experiences with UBD, IB, COF, NECAPS, and NEWAS. There’s always a new buzzword in education, but on a particular day in late May at Webster Elementary, the word came to life.

Folks in northern New England were enduring unseasonably hot temperatures. The school children were already telling stories of swimming in back yard pools and nearby ponds. Recess duty on that day would involve the challenges of keeping the youngsters healthy and hydrated.

In hopes of catching an outdoor breeze and escape the oppressive heat in the building, one staff member had stepped outside, then hurried back inside to find the school nurse (me). The students would soon be running out to the playground, and she was concerned about a strange noise on the school property she thought might have a safety impact on recess.

The staff member and I cautiously made our way toward the sound, a loud buzzing just outside the door. Several yards from our vantage point, we could see a huge cloud of flying insects at least 20 feet up high and half way between a big tree and the playground. We agreed we needed to do something immediately.

I rushed back into the building to make a general announcement that the children would have to stay inside for recess. Within a few moments the bell would have sent the children out, running directly into the path of the unidentified flying insects.

Listening to the disappointed voices of children reverberating through the halls, I contacted the district maintenance supervisor to ask for help.

“How many insects?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “A lot.”

“More than 25 to 50? We need to assess before we can make a plan.”

“A lot more than 50. Thousands!” I said.

“We’ll be on it as soon as possible.”
After the maintenance crew arrived and proclaimed their suspicions that the cloud was actually a giant swarm of honeybees, my fears escalated. I worried about the dangers of multiple bee stings and the life-threatening circumstances that could prove deadly.

How does an emergency management team prepare for dozens of victims of anaphylactic shock? My imagination ran wild. But in reality, the children were safe inside the building.

To the onlookers’ surprise, the cloud dissipated and settled as a large brown mass within the tree branches. One brave teacher was able to photograph the site to validate the incident.

I soon received a call from the district facilities manager. “I’ve been thinking about this. I’m gonna go over to Larry Boucher’s house, see if Larry can positively identify and capture the insects,” he said.

Larry, a retired teacher and longtime beekeeper, has run a bee club at Merrimack Valley Middle School for 10 years. When he arrived, he estimated that about 25, 000 bees occupied the low tree branch­one of the biggest honeybee swarms he’d ever seen. It was shaped a little like a hot pepper about two feet long, about 45 inches in circumference at the top and 12 inches at the bottom. Larry said that with no nest or food stores to defend, the bees were clustered in a resting, non-aggressive mode.

We watched anxiously as Larry pulled his pick-up truck right up under the branch where the swarm had landed, then shook the branch so most of the bees fell into a “hive body” baited with honey. He put his bee suit on so he could confirm that the queen had gone into the box to take command of the hive and ensure the other bees would stay there.

When it was evident that most of the swarm was encased in the box, and Larry announced he was “pretty darn sure” the queen was in there, too, we all breathed a sigh of relief.

I was very grateful for the “bee whisperer” in our midst, grateful for everyone’s safety, grateful I didn’t have to deal with a health emergency, and grateful we didn’t have to hire an exterminator. The recent and ongoing die-off of honeybees that pollinate our flowers and food crops makes it all the more important that the swarm of beneficial insects was preserved.

Larry said the queen could have left her pheromones behind in the tree, so he cut and disposed of many branches to prevent more bees from congregating at the site. Caution tape secured an area of the playground for a few days, and the last of the homeless bees few away in search of a new home.

The children may have missed outside recess that day, but the bees surely got theirs during a visit we’re still buzzing about.

by Judy Elliott, UNH Cooperative Extension NH Outside volunteer

drawing by, Pamela Doherty, UNH Cooperative Extension