The secret life of apiarists

BY ELAINE KLAASSEN

Imagine an agrarian urban paradise where people live in multiple-unit, solar-powered dwellings surrounded by a few earth-friendly industries, strategically routed public transport vehicles, foot paths, biking trails, groves of fruit trees, and masses of pumpkin patches, grains and leafy greens. People keep chickens, a few goats, the occasional cow and, yes, honeybees. Each multiple-unit dwelling is inhabited by people who look out for each other, sharing their lives and their sewer and phone hook-ups. They are like a beehive: What affects one affects all.
Humans around the world have been keeping bees for millennia. Honeybees in hives were brought to North America about 500 years ago. Pollinators are worth billions to agriculture, and people benefit daily from bee products such as honey, wax and propolis—the glue made by bees—which the Russians have used forever as a cure for ulcers.

Beekeeping is usually thought of as a bucolic, pastoral activity. However, there are a number of active beekeepers on the rooftops of Paris, according to a Christian Science Monitor article by Peter Ford. And, an internet search revealed that St. Paul and most Twin Cities suburbs are OK with beekeepers in town, too. Only in Minneapolis is beekeeping illegal.

What are the problems involved with keeping bees in the city? Well, for one thing, people get scared when bees do what’s called “swarming”—bees get together en masse and move to another location. It would be alarming to see a ball of 30,000 buzzing bees in your back yard. But the Parisian beekeepers say that almost always when bees swarm they can be safely moved. Once in a great while they go into attack mode. According to my friend Lorraine, who just took the U of M’s yearly (since 1944) two and a half-day beekeeping course, the possibility of a swarm going into attack mode is extremely minute and would depend on extreme provocation.

Another thing is that people are afraid of getting stung by individual bees. However, in the city we already have bumblebees, sweat bees and mason bees, so if people want to be afraid of getting stung, they might start by being afraid of those bees. Lorraine said bees only sting at night, when they’re crawling around and it is possible to step or lean on them. They only fly during the day, when they go out foraging. One of the Paris proponents of urban beekeeping said, “When neighbors see a hive they get stung, and when they don’t see a hive they don’t get stung. That’s how neighbors are.”

A famous trick used by beekeepers to de-villify bees is a “bee beard” demonstration. The beekeeper puts a queen bee into a little box and ties the box to his/her chin; covers his/her face with vaseline wherever the bees ought not to go; and stuffs his/her ears and nose with cotton. Then, thousands of worker bees are invited to crowd around the queen bee, covering the beekeeper’s chin, jaw and chest.

Since taking the course, Lorraine calls herself a “born again beekeeper.” There is definitely a spiritual dimension of beekeeping—described beautifully in “The Secret Life of Bees.” The Parisian apiarist talked about “mastering fear,” and commented, “I was a bit hot-tempered, but I’ve learned respect and calm and patience.” Lorraine visualizes herself in her light-colored beekeeper veil, gloves, suit and smoker, moving “confidently and respectfully,” and keeping in mind that “bees are not aggressive, they don’t strike first.”

Also, people worry that the city might be contaminated. It is known that bees are very interdependent, and if a few bees forage where crops have been heavily treated with insecticides, those bees will take the poison back to the hive and all the bees could be affected and the honey would be tainted—if the bees survived to make it. However, it was discovered in Paris that the urban-tested honey was more pure than honey from the French countryside where heavy spraying is the norm. And, incidentally, the bio-diversity in the city was much greater than in the country. In our imaginary idyllic neighborhood, insecticides shouldn’t be a problem. Since bees forage in a three-mile radius, it should be possible to watch what chemicals are used in that area. Lorraine said, “Big ag is tough on bees.” A beekeeper in rural Minnesota brought a court case a few years ago against a nearby orchard that was spraying with a product called Sevin, which affected his hives. Now there’s a law that says heavy spraying may only be done at night.
Another concern is that the beekeeping process involves killing a large number of bees. Lorraine said, yes, that’s true. Bees multiply really fast and die pretty fast, too, but not as fast as they hatch. Hives are divided regularly and new colonies started. If this procedure continued indefinitely, the beekeeper would eventually end up with thousands of hives, too many to maintain. There has to be a cut-off point. She assured me it was painless. “They roll in the snow and go to sleep.”

The high number of participants (around 100) in the Department of Entomology’s “Beekeeping in Northern Climates Short Course” attests to the current surge of interest in beekeeping. In the past 15 years, the American bee population has dropped significantly owing to two diseases: American foulbrood and varroa mites. There is strong interest in restoring it. Some headway has been made with stopping American foulbrood but not with varroa mites. Serious apiarists working within our city would contribute to the renewal of the honeybee population. And, of course, their efforts would boost urban agriculture.
Don’t you wonder what “Hale-Page” honey or “Holland” honey would taste like?