“When I open these boxes in the spring, it smells like every flower I’ve ever smelled,” beekeeper, Mrs. Pielemeier told me as I held a heavy frame containing rows of richly colored honeycomb. Honeybees walked along the frame I held, continuing to work despite the jarring interruption. I could feel the weight of the honey packed into the comb, their livelihood for the winter in my hands. Flashing back to an hour earlier, I was pulling into the long gravel driveway. Mentally preparing myself to walk into a swarm of bees to both learn more about these little creatures and get over my irrational fear.

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As I approached the farmhouse, I saw patches of lush green plant life on either side of the cobblestone path. The earthy smell of garden soil filled the air. Balancing my clipboard and papers in one hand, I knocked on the large purple door, and was greeted by the sound of barking. A girl around my age with short curly brown hair answered, “Hey Emma, Mom’s on the phone right now, but she’ll be ready soon. Follow me.” I had known Rebecca since elementary school. I had been invited to visit her Mom’s  bee boxes, but had always declined. Rebecca led me to the kitchen where Mrs. Pielemeier balanced a phone between her head and shoulder while spreading mayonnaise on a slice of bread.

           

Mrs. Pielemeier glanced towards me and smiled “I’ll call you back,” she spoke into the phone. We chatted for a few minutes and exchanged pleasantries “Now what would to get out of this?” she asked me. I told her that I was hoping to learn more about beekeeping as well as her opinions on what is harming the bees. Finishing her sandwich, she leaned against the counter and nodded her head towards me as an indication to begin the interview.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mrs. Pielemeier had a strong dislike towards the over use of chemicals. In an article from the New York Times, Christine Hauser explains that when plants are sprayed with pesticides, bees who pollinate those plants will carry the chemicals back to the hive which harms its nestmates (para. 4). If left unchecked, the reality will be a decline in the bee population. Markus Imhoof shows Hauser's reality in his documentary, More than Honey, which displays regions in China where excessive use of chemicals on farms  has led to the near extinction of honey bees. The harsh effects of irresponsible agricultural practices will eventually outweigh any benefits they produce and further the population decline.

 

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Mrs. Pielemeier led me to an entrance room off the side of her kitchen. She handed me a large heavy bag and instructed me to put on the suit inside of it. The bee suit scratched my skin, but brought a level of comfort, protecting me from the outside elements. Her daughter Rebecca told me, “You’re so lucky. You got the ventilated suit.” I swept my bangs back into my dad’s old baseball cap. The hood of the bee suit was baggy. That's why Mrs. Pielemeier told me to wear a cap, so that the hood of the bee suit wouldn’t fall onto my face. Mrs. Pielemeier grabbed an old milk jug filled with a light brown liquid, “It’s food for the bees,” she explained, “since winter is coming, they are running out of food which makes them cranky.” That statement made me feel uneasy. Along with the milk jug, she took out a silver scraper and a long flat metal tool. She called them her “hive tools” and told me that I would see what they were used for soon.

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The scent of smoke felt thick in the warm autumn air. Mrs. Pielemeier held the smoker and explained how it blocked the guard bees’ pheromone signals. That way the bees wouldn’t see us as a threat. A row of several tall white boxes lined along the yard contrasted against the green field. Weeds and wild flowers grew freely around the bee hives. She refused to spray her yard. She wanted her bees to be healthy. The sound of buzzing grew louder with each step I took. My palms started to sweat, and I could feel my heart start to beat louder. Finally, we were standing next to the hive, and Mrs. Pielemeier used her hive tools to pry off the lid to the bee box.

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Inside the box there were rows of tightly packed frames. “The space between the frames is called ‘bee space,’” she informed me, “it happens in nature. In every hive this is the space they make between the honey combs.” Honey bees are efficient creatures. Their efficiency is nearly unmatched. From the moment of birth, they work in the hive. In a research study, it was found that only a small percent of worker bees do up to fifty percent of the foraging for the hive, and if those workers are removed then other worker bees will step up to fill those spots (New York Times). Bees are able to recognize the hive’s needs and adapt to meet them. Beekeeper, Anthony Planakis, has a deep respect for honeybees’ work ethic. Saying in an interview that, “I've learned from the bees patience, respect, you know and I guess work 'til you die” (Planakis). Bees are born with the incredible knowledge of efficiency and adaptability, making them fascinating creatures.

 

The tall white bee box had several compartments stacked on one another. They are called Langstroth boxes; named after the man who created them, Lorenzo Langstroth. Each compartment was square shaped and had varying depths. Perhaps the most efficient aspect of the hive’s structure was the removable frames. Since honeybees follow the strict ‘bee space’ rule they will build honeycomb in areas too large and fill gaps that are too small with propolis (Stamp para. 4). This posed a problem for early beekeepers. Peter Loring Borst, writer for American Bee Journal states that, “The problem with early frame hives was not just the comb cutting but the fact that bees tend to propolize (glue) everything together and render the various parts unmovable.” Jimmy Stamp, author for Smithsonian Magazine agrees with Borst’s sentiments. Researching early beehives and their structure, Stamp noticed a common thread, “’fixed combs’ that must be physically cut from the hive. These early fixed comb hives made it difficult for beekeepers to inspect their brood for diseases or other problems.” Langstroth found the solution to the issue plaguing beekeepers. He designed removable frames with the desired space between them for bees. This allowed beekeepers to remove frames without cutting them out of the hive (Stamp para. 5). Mrs. Pielemeier blew several puffs of smoke around the hive. The buzzing started to become quieter.

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Peering into the hive I saw bees scurrying around the frames to prepare for the upcoming winter. They flew in and out to forage for food and came back to fill the honey comb with nectar. Picking up the milk jug, Mrs. Pielemeier poured the liquid into two tubes held in a frame. As a beekeeper she had to make sure her bees were well fed for the winter. Bees don’t hibernate and therefore they spend the winter eating through their honey stores. “My first priority is making sure they have enough honey to get them through the season,” she told me while picking up a frame “Hold this. Heavier frames means more honey in them.”

 

The bees moved expertly throughout the hive. Each with a delegated task and instinct to work, I saw one bee shaking more than the others. I cannot be sure of it, but I believe it was performing the “waggle dance.” The waggle dance (sometimes called the waggle run) is a form of communication bees use to tell each other of nearby food sources. While the dance looks simple, it conveys meticulous information. A study done by Rohrseitz, K. and Tautz, J. says, “The angle between the sun's azimuth and the direction to food in the field equals the angle between gravity and waggle run, which is called waggle run angle” (para. 3). The waggle dance is also the key to how bees receive and visually gather information. A study done by the University of Notre Dame demonstrates bee’s optic flow (Pennisi para. 1), saying “…bee(s) measures distance in terms of ‘optic flow,’ the stream of visual cues encountered along a flight.” Bees gather visual information and translate it to fellow bees in the form of a dance. These amazing creatures show advanced communicative skills.

           

I spent thirty minutes observing the hives, after which Mrs. Pielemeier led me back inside. She offered me a jar of honey from her hives. Rather than being a dark golden yellow, the honey was translucent. It felt almost wrong to take the honey, knowing how much work goes into making just one teaspoon, but she insisted. The honey tasted sweet and pure, unlike anything from a grocery store. As I left the farmhouse, I cast one more glance to the bee hives. No longer afraid of them, but fascinated at their complex social structure and work ethic.