Year 1 June - Bidding Farewell to Commercial Bees 🖊️

-It’s a wrap. I’m walking away from it all.

My Beekeeping Odyssey

My journey with commercial beekeeping started in high school when I took on the role of budget-friendly labor. Back then, treatments were scarce, and debates raged about feeding sugar, except in emergencies. Swarms were a common sight, hive populations were robust, and honey yields were plentiful. Routine requeening wasn’t the norm, and winter losses were effortlessly replenished through spring splits.

After college and a stint in the Army, I left a prosperous career as a senior exploration geologist to manage a commercial bee operation in Lingle, Wyoming.

Cliff Weller, the elderly founder of the Lingle outfit, would share anecdotes during his visits. I once stumbled upon an old container labeled Sulfa with signs warning about poisonous honey. Chuckling, he revealed he had bought the sulfa after WWII for potential foulbrood outbreaks but never used it. The warning signs? A deterrent against theft or vandalism.

Later, my brother and I established a sideline bee operation in Delta Junction, Alaska. We treated our initial package bees with Fumidil B and had a bucket of tetra we never touched.

The Downhill Slide

Returning to Wyoming from Alaska, I worked part-time and later full-time for a commercial beekeeper, running a side business in queen rearing.

Over time, prophylactic antibiotics, particularly in the form of antibiotic grease patties, became commonplace. Feeding sugar, later replaced by corn syrup, became routine. Hive populations dwindled, honey yields shrank, and queen failures necessitated frequent requeening. Winter losses were no longer recoverable from overwintered bees; package bees became the new norm, imported from California, and queens were purchased.

Then the mites invaded, exacerbating existing issues. To cut costs, commercial beekeepers started treating bees with various barnyard chemicals and later any chemical-pesticide concoction with little concern. I left commercial beekeeping in 2000 but maintained hobby hives until moving to Florida in 2007.

Back to the Grind

Returning to Wyoming, I visited a commercial beekeeping friend facing a labor shortage. The grueling, low-paying work requires a love for beekeeping and a bit of craziness. Despite knowing the challenges, I offered to help. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but as life goes, it took a sour turn.

It had been almost a decade since I was involved in commercial beekeeping, and things hadn’t improved. I had embraced natural beekeeping with my own hives and never looked back.

Working in my friend’s shop with bee equipment, I started experiencing mild yet peculiar headaches and slight nausea at the end of the day. Odd, right? It would linger into the evening but fade away after a good night’s sleep.

In the beeyard, my friend, caught in the pesticide treadmill, was running faster than ever. Hives were routinely sprayed after each yard, with a hivetool full of powder and several oily construction paper strips left in each hive. He didn’t disclose the contents, and I didn’t inquire.

As soon as the spraying began, I felt the change. The headaches worsened when working downwind of the spray, but even on still days, my head pounded, and nausea set in after a while. It was the same strange headache from his shop!

The Final Straw

Despite attempts to limit my exposure in the field, the chemicals permeated every aspect of the operation—the equipment, the building, the clothing. Commercial beekeeping was making me sick! Even if you’re passionate enough to be a beekeeper, it doesn’t mean you’re foolish enough to stay in a detrimental situation.

My friend wasn’t an innovator; he readily adopted practices from larger commercial beekeepers. What I experienced in his shop was probably more typical than not. Many commercial beekeepers view beekeeping as agribusiness, with honey seen merely as another agricultural commodity.

Ever seen those undercover videos exposing agribusiness practices? What were your thoughts? Well, you can make a similar video for certain aspects of commercial beekeeping.

While a handful of dedicated commercial beekeepers may see their business as producing a natural, healthy food product, many operate it as an agribusiness focused on cost-efficiency. The true essence of honey—its food value, health benefits, and purity—is left in the hands of bottlers, lab technicians, and marketing teams.

Commercial beekeeping, once my lifelong dream, has transformed into a nightmare. It’s time to wake up. Goodbye forever, commercial beekeeping!

-Cheers, D 🐝🤠