Recently my husband and I had the opportunity to visit some beehives. A fellow artist who also exhibited at the Clowes Spotlight Art show mentioned that she and her husband keep bees, and generously offered to give us a tour. So one hot, muggy day last month we put on our long-sleeved shirts and long pants, and headed over to their house.
I became interested in honeybees a few years ago after reading Sue Monk Kidd’s wonderful novel “The Secret Life of Bees”. I followed that up with “Robbing the Bees” by Holley Bishop, a non-fiction account of the author’s inaugural attempt at backyard beekeeping. We later drove down south to Martinsville for a fall tour of Hunter’s Honey Farm, a local producer who sells their honey at the State Fair. I’m always fascinated by all the different varieties they carry, honeys delicately tinged with blackberry, clover, wildflowers…whatever nectar the bees happened to be collecting at a given time during the spring or summer. Jars full of honey with honeycomb, grainy bee pollen, bars of honey soap…so much goodness the bees provide without even knowing it. All they know is that they must make honey to feed themselves and the new broods of bees that they’re raising who will make even more.
Beekeeping as a hobby is quickly on the rise, even in heavily populated areas such as major cities. Honeybee populations themselves have declined in recent years due to the mysterious “colony collapse disorder” in which bees simply disappear from the hive, leaving their young and honey stores behind. Some culprits could include mites, insect diseases, malnutrition, or pesticide use; research is currently ongoing. But bees play a vital role in pollinating our crops, and the fact that so many people are trying their hand at beekeeping can only be a positive thing.
Our artist friends Vandra and David have three hives in their backyard, and already this summer have collected over 200 lbs. of honey, which they sell through local venues. Mike and I each took a turn wearing the extra hat and long gloves that were on hand so we could get up close to the hives. (Apparently bees will burrow into one’s hair and become almost impossible to get out; they also don’t like dark colors, which is why beekeepers wear white). We watched while David uncapped the hives and carefully pulled out the supers, or the frames where the bees build their honeycomb. He wanted to check on the honey production and the health of the bees themselves, both of which appeared to be doing well. The bees were hard at work filling their combs with honey, and he also showed us the frames where the young bees (larvae and pupae, really) were being tended by the nurse bees. Somewhere further down in the hive the queen was also at work, producing the eggs that would become her future helpers. I’m fascinated by the complex society of queen, drones, and worker bees; every member has a designated purpose and job to do, whether it’s producing or caring for the young, guarding the hive, or collecting pollen and creating honey. Vandra even told us that when some of the workers become too old to forage, they’ll spend their time strolling around outside the hive, where another worker will walk alongside, grooming and assisting them. These are insects. And yet there is a humanity about them that we can relate to.
These bees were healthy, with glossy striped bodies and shiny wings, and the hot summer air around us was filled with the hum of their comings and goings as they flew around our heads, busy with their work and seemingly oblivious to the fact that their house had been opened up and their secrets revealed. But only by so much.
