356 Seconds: Our First Time Handling Bees & Setting The Smoker On Fire

You’d think after years in the Army I wouldn’t be fazed by a few buzzing insects.

And yet, the first time we brought bees home to Hansel Hill Farm, I found myself holding a bee frame in full panic mode, counting the seconds like I was defusing a bomb.

Let me backup.

The Ride Home: A Hum That Changed Everything

We picked up our first nucs (short for nucleus colonies) from a farm about two hours away. We loaded the boxes into the back of our car, secured the lids, cracked the windows, and drove. The whole way home, we said almost nothing. Just sat, listened to the bees hum, and let the weight of it settle in.

We were doing it. We were first time beekeepers now.

Kind of.

Suiting Up For The First Encounter

The moment we pulled into the driveway, it got real.

We had to move the bees from the car to the hive boxes and there was no instructor this time. No mentor. Just us, a pair of brand-new suits, a hive tool, and about 10,000 bees depending on us to not screw it up.

Brian, of course, was calm. He’d spent the past year reading every book, watching every video, and asking all the right questions. He was ready. He hardly looked like this was his first time beekeeping!

Me? I was holding the smoker like it was a crucifix. I had fully convinced myself that the smoker would keep me safe. Not the suit. The smoker. As long as I kept it puffing, I’d be fine.

The Fire (Yes, Really)

So I puffed.

Hard.

So hard that I—yes—lit the smoker on fire. The pine needles inside started flaming like I was about to roast marshmallows. We had to stop, put the fire out, and recompose ourselves… all while surrounded by bees.

I wish I could say I was brave. But I wasn’t. I was frozen, arms stiff, heart pounding, legs rooted to the ground like one of our apple trees in a windstorm.

The Longest 356 Seconds Of My Life

Eventually, Brian, (patient, steady Brian), got the hive open and things began to settle. But then came the moment that will live rent-free in my memory forever:

“I need you to hold this,” he said, handing me a full bee frame, bees crawling across the wax, wings shimmering in the sun.

I grabbed it. And I counted. Convinced it’d only be a minute.

One Mississippi… two Mississippi…

356 seconds. That’s how long I stood there, completely still, sweat trickling down my back, adrenaline roaring through my veins.

I didn’t get stung. I didn’t drop it. I didn’t run.

And somehow… I fell in love.

Looking Back

We laugh about it now, of course. Brian has handled hundreds of frames since. We both teach kids and adults about bees, how to care for them, and how to respect them. I’m honestly still jumpy sometimes, but I’ve learned to trust the process and keep my cool. And I’ve learned that the first time doing anything worth doing is usually a little terrifying.

So if this is your first time beekeeping, or even just curious, know this: we all start somewhere. Sometimes with a suit. Sometimes with fire. Always with fear.

And sometimes… with 356 unforgettable seconds.

Curious about bees?

Read more about what our bees do for the farm and how we share the experience with visitors so that your first time beekeeping will be memorable and fun.

And come see the hives yourself, at a class, a scout event, or an adult day camp. I’ll bring the smoker. And this time, I promise not to light it on fire.