OUR trips to the warehouse where we purchase kit form hives have rocketed these last few weeks.

John seems to have no sooner spent half a day putting together a hive, than he has spotted a new swarm down by the wood.

The attraction for the bees is currently a hundred acres of field beans in full flower. Plus, I understand, the fact there are already several hives working the beans could mean that a queen with a new swarm may be brought there by her scout bees to find a potential home.

The hives we have in this spot are sited in a shady spot under a cluster of oak trees. Our other hives are also under oaks, never just out in the open. Whether this makes the hives more easily defendable I am not sure, but there may be a more esoteric reason for a swarm choosing this spot to head for. Ley lines.

Now I am not entirely unfamiliar with ley lines. Many years ago when John was wanting to dig out a pond in a rather swampy field, he brought in a water diviner as he suspected there was an underground spring. With what appeared to be two bent wire coat hangers, the diviner was walked up and down the field. And located where he suspected the spring existed. It did. John brought a firm in to dig out a pond with various depths in to ensure that fish had shelter if the pond ever froze over in winter.

Gradually, over a matter of a few weeks, the pond filled up. And through the driest summers we have experienced over the last 30 years, the water level has never dropped.

Immediately after the success of the location of the spring, John became an enthusiastic amateur diviner. A couple of dresses were left in a crumpled heap on the ground as their hangers were fashioned into a pair of diving rods. They proved invaluable in detecting land drains so that a wet spot could be identified in a field and new drains replace broken or badly cracked ones that were causing the problem.

So I was curious to know if perhaps the success of the area where the hives were situated was due to the fact that ley lines crossed in the vicinity. But could I find a wire coat hanger in my wardrobe? No. Not one. A quick call to my friend Val in the village, however, and a couple of hangers were soon on offer. As we drove down to the wood to take yet another hive to the bean field, I untwisted the hangers and bent them into the required shape for divining. Clad in his protective white suit, John walked slowly towards the hives, divining rod in each hand. Close to the hives they crossed. He walked to the hives from a different direction. They crossed in the same place. It is easy to be sceptical about some things that you cannot explain, but it’s spooky when it works.