Burr Comb and Heartache

It's been a little over a week since the bees arrived and I was fluctuating between eagerly wanting to open the hive and see what they were up to and being filled with dread about what I might find. (A missing or dead queen, a less than populated hive, hyper-aggressive bees...)
I finally got enough fuel into my smoker (tried pine needles but they were too damp, settled on dried mowed grass which stank a lot but gave off a good amount of smoke) and took the hive apart.

I noticed that the main cluster of bees were spread between one or two frames, about near where I'd left the queen cage. I assumed the queen was in there, too. My first task was to remove the wall frame without crushing or rolling any bees, and I was able to do that easily. It was covered in bees, though, so I carefully leaned it up against the hive stand and hoped any wayward transports would find their way back through the hive entrance should they not make it back in upon that frame.

The most startling thing I encountered was a wealth of burr comb, rogue patches of honeycomb that the bees build between the frames, not on the foundation that is stretched within the frames. This happens, I've learned, if there is too much space between frames. In this case, the gap where the queen cage had been suspended between two frames left plenty of space for them to build this comb. Unfortunately, if the comb is left it would make my task in manipulating frames in order to inspect the hive a difficult one, and knew I had to get rid of it.

I felt then - and still am agitated by - a canvassing sense of sadness for having to destroy this comb. I cannot describe how beautiful it was. Translucent, sweet smelling, clean, light as air - some spaces in the comb were filled with clear nectar, others with a variety of colored pollen, and, heartbreakingly, hundreds of cells with a singular egg in them.

On one hand, I knew I was right in removing the burr comb. Also, it was an obvious indicator of the productivity of the hive and the presence of a laying queen. On the other hand, I felt as though I was confiscating and destroying a week of their hard work. All they know how to do is to gather and build and raise their young, and that's what they did, and here I am, imposing a sense of order on an arguably immaculate natural order/process. (Apparently my sadness over this was visible to others for the next 24 hours, even.)

The heartbreak!

In conclusion - the hive appears healthy, some of the actual foundation was being drawn into comb and now the frames are properly spaced. Hopefully next week's inspection will find them following the laws of their new home.