Honeybee megadeath

The Associated Press is reporting on the latest calamity to strike the American honeybee population: Colony Collapse Disorder.

This is more a descriptor than a diagnosis. The actual cause for mass honeybee deaths is still unknown. Beekeepers in 22 states have reported losses of more than fifty percent of their colonies. The beekeeping industry is still reeling from massive losses over the past several years from the verroa mite. Beekeepers are speculating that the mite infestations were part of the current syndrome, which includes fungal and bacterial infections and weakened immune systems.

Anyone wondering why honeybee megadeath matters should consider this from the AP story: "A recent report by the National Research Counsil noted that in order to bear fruit, three-quarters of all flowering plants — including most food crops and some that provide fiber, drugs and fuel — rely on pollinators for fertilization." I would add that the situation has a "canary-in-the-coal-mine" feel about it. I don't like seeing stories about mysterious doings in the natural world, mutant frogs and such. Is Colony Collapse Disorder a metaphor for our times?

I know that I haven't seen honeybees around here for a number of years. Two weeks after we moved into our house, in June 1990, we began to see bees in the downstairs bathroom. Investigation outside revealed the tiny aperture in the fascia boards that was the entrance to their hive. We called a beekeeper who showed up with a hive box, smokers and all that bee paraphernalia. It was my first experience of insect life in the outer 'burbs.

Our bee wrangler friend put on quite a show. He couldn't reach the hive from outside, so he opened the window, turned off the lights and carefully cut a hole in the bathroom wall. Bees swarmed all over the place, but he had a smoker handy to subdue them. Outside, one bee came at me and bumped my forehead a few times to warn me back. The bee guy, meanwhile, was doing all kinds of macho bee stuff. He didn't even put on a bee suit until he'd been stung a half a dozen times. He took one bee, addled from the smoke, and let it stagger around on his tongue!

If you ever find that you've been invaded by honeybees, it's best to call a beekeeper to remove the hive. Whatever you do, don't just kill them! Not only would you be destroying a valuable resource, but you'd be stuck with a wall full of honey and the insects and vermin that would show up to eat it.

In the end, our beekeeper removed a piece of honeycomb from between the studs that was at least 30 inches long, and vacuumed up as many bees as he could find into the hive. Although the swarm had probably moved in only a week or so before we did, there were already about 20,000 bees in the colony.

This was also my first experience of expensive suburban emergencies. It cost $500 to remove the hive and seal everything back up. Even so, ever since I've had a real love of honeybees.

I used to see them while gardening, not as comical and sweet as the bumblebees, but seriously industrious, the natural catalysts of so much that unfolds in the garden. I've missed them these past few years. To see a honeybee is an occasion these days. It's just too, too bad.