When I used to walk with my friend Mary, she sometimes stopped, closed her eyes, and said, “Listen.”

What? I didn’t hear anything, not at first. But a moment later, the hum of bees would reach my ear.

Mary resisted hurrying on. Instead, we stood listening, on a town sidewalk or on a hiking trail, and as the sound seeped into me, so did a sense of peace.

Mary, an intuitive person, grasped something that folks ancient and modern have believed. The sound of bees can heal us.

Slovenia has a high density of bees compared to other countries. A fire department there recognized the stresses firefighters face—accidents, casualties and disasters, along with fighting fires. The department employed psychological help, but wanted to add something else to promote relaxation. The station took up beekeeping.

Firefighters believe that the sound of bees calms them. “The fragrance the bees emit is also healing,” a firefighter said. Another said, “The demand for mitigating talks after difficult accidents has diminished. The atmosphere is different, more positive.”  

At some Slovenian schools, students coexist with bee colonies. Teachers send restless students to care for the bees, and it calms the child.

A beekeeper in Rochester, Massachusetts, has constructed a shed above her hives, where visitors can seek rest. The visitor lies on a wooden bench, separated from the bees by wire mesh, and lets go of tension. The beekeeper says the visitor departs with more energy, and she believes the sound helps asthma, insomnia, high blood pressure, and other maladies. Similar places can be found in California.

Ulleotherapy, the practice of sleeping above bees, is common in Russia as well as in Ukraine, China, Japan, Korea, and Canada. In America, the practice usually is called bee therapy, or sleeping with bees. 

Proponents say many factors combine to provide a state of healing for the body. The micro-vibration created by bees fanning their wings, to evaporate moisture from the nectar, is one factor. For the person sleeping above the hive, it is like a light vibro-massage, acting positively on the nervous, circulatory, and muscular system.

Clean, ionized air, as in ionotherapy, is created in the hive and inhaled by the patient sleeping above. The air comes through a fine mesh screen. Advocates suggest that microbes in bronchi and lungs are killed during ten minutes of inhalation. 

Aromatherapy offered by the smell of nectar, honey, and propolis, all create a relaxed atmosphere, inducing sleep for many participants. 

Bee buzzing induces a mild, meditative trance. Supporters claim this balances the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, and removes fatigue, stress, and tension. Physical and emotional relaxation trigger an improved emotional state.   

Proponents say that numerous studies have reported positive effects in rheumatic, dermatological, urology, gynecology, cardiology, endocrinology, and respiratory systems, as well as the musculoskeletal system. Some say it cures chronic diseases, normalizes potency in men, and eliminates insomnia. 

I couldn’t find these studies. Maybe a longer search of the internet would have uncovered one.  

Claims for the benefits of sleeping with bees may be exaggerated or may be right on. But those of us who like bees can probably agree on this. Taking time to sit beside a hive, or beneath a blooming fruit tree, humming with bees—just listening—might be the most soul-nourishing thing we do that day.   

Photo by Art Rachen/Unsplashed

When I hear a hard-to-believe story or theory, I check with Snopes to see if it is real.  And when someone tells me about a miracle cure, I search for lab studies that back up the claim.    

But when it comes to honey, I love hearing the opinions and experiences of regular folks. A belief that has not been tested in a laboratory can still be valid.   

While waiting for a friend at a coffee shop, a cheerful man at the next table wearing a Vietnam veteran hat started telling me his recipe for good health. Honey. A tablespoon every morning. The man buys expensive manuka honey, which is loaded with healthful properties, but gets it at Costco where the price isn’t as steep.

“I feel great. I have longtime medical issues, but they don’t slow me down. Honey helps many systems in the body. I have a positive mental attitude, too, which honey has played a part in.”

A woman I knew suffered from severe allergies and asthma, year after year. She went from one specialist to another. One doctor advised her to find a source of local honey, which she did. After taking it for a while, she experienced the best spring she could remember.

A man who owns a thriving honey company here said he depends on a spoonful of honey every day for health. He takes his at night.

 “Our brains work all night. I want to send my brain nourishment, so I take a spoonful of honey at bedtime. I sleep like a child.”

 Here are other testimonials I have heard or read.

A man who had chronic digestive issues since he was a child had tried enzymes and probiotics and all kinds of cures. But honey worked for him, and right away. He felt like a new man within a week.   

Several people report that they apply honey to cuts, even deep ones, and the area heals without scarring.

A family that has various ailments, including high cholesterol, diabetes, an anxiety disorder, and high blood pressure enjoys breakfast together, one that is healthful for all of them. Oats cooked with raisins and cinnamon. When it cools slightly, they add honey.  

A woman makes sure her 89-year-old mother has a teaspoon of honey three times a day.

Some people report honey aids with weight loss. They say their cravings for sweets went away when they added honey to their diet. Some mix the honey with other ingredients like lemon juice, apple cider vinegar, or ginger, and subsequently lose weight. Sometimes 20 pounds or so.   

Many rely on honey and tea to quiet coughs. When my children were little, our general practitioner told me that no cough medicine from the store could equal honey and hot tea.  

I appreciate that prestigious laboratories are studying honey and its health benefits. I’m happy their findings back up what people for centuries have believed—that honey is a boon for humans, because it is delicious, and also contributes to human well-being. Science bolsters honey’s reputation.  

Still, you can’t beat a personal story from someone who credits honey for a positive impact on their health. That person is apt to care about bees and their welfare.    

I converted part of my lawn to native, pollinator friendly plants so my bees don’t have to go searching for flowers, or forage where plants have been sprayed with harmful chemicals.

But some folks are replacing lawns and restoring native plants for a selfless reason—to create miniature sanctuaries where native plants, insects, birds, and small mammals can thrive.

Natural spaces perform vital functions. They provide for the food web, supply clean water, pull carbon out of the air, and shelter native insects, pollinators, birds, and animals. 

We in the West take public spaces for granted. Many of us live within easy driving distance of great expanses of open land or forest. It surprises us to learn that ninety-five percent of the natural landscapes in the U.S. have been transformed. In the lower 48, half of the land holds cities and streets, airports and shopping malls. Farms cover much of the other half. Only about 13 percent of U.S. land enjoys some kind of protection.

That is not enough to sustain wildlife, birds, and insects. In half a century, 3 billion, or 30 percent of the bird population, has disappeared. The loss of insects, including beneficial ones, has been staggering. Caterpillars who turn into beautiful butterflies depend on certain native species, and cannot reproduce amid ornamental plants and invasive species.

Ecologists, botanists, and nature lovers want to persuade owners of private land, which makes up 83 percent of the total, to turn their yards into miniature national parks. That can range from tiny plots, even container gardens, to corporate headquarters and school campuses. One proposal sees half of the 40 million acres of lawn in the United States returned to native plants and trees.

Doug Tallamy, author of the Homegrown National Park concept, said, “Our national parks, no matter how grand in scale, are too small and separated from one another to preserve species to the levels needed.” The Homegrown National Park idea is a bottom-up call to action, to restore habitat where we are, creating wee national parks in our yards and neighborhoods. Tallamy says, “Our landscapes must enable ecosystems to produce the life support we and every other species requires.”

 Activists concede it will take time, and advise converting one area of property at a time. They offer suggestions for how to make changes acceptable to neighbors and home owner associations (HOAs). Put a curving walkway through a native plant area. Leave areas of manicured lawn around borders. A small, inexpensive fence around native plants signals that the plants are intentional. Trim bushes.  

 Some places have weakened HOAs. Maryland law prevents HOAs from prohibiting environmentally friendly yards, and other states and some cities have similar laws, or are considering them.

Mini wildlands would change the outlook for our honeybees and for native bees.

In 1949, Aldo Leopold, the father of modern conservation, urged us to have an ethic that allows us to see land as more than a commodity.

“When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.”

A six-person panel of international judges gave first place in the World’s Ugliest Lawn Contest to Kathleen Murray of Tasmania.

The competition started in Sweden as a way to reward water conservation. Lawns require a lot of water.

Murray’s dusty yard, pocked with holes dug by animals, placed first. I was struck by something she said.

“It’s a bit like women (she could have included men) who choose to stop dyeing their hair and let it go gray.” Sometimes a person freaks out and goes back to dyeing, but she chose to “let my lawn go gray.”

I have done both. Let my hair go gray, and tried to rid my front yard of grass. I think Murray’s comparison works.   

We who embrace gray hair enjoy how easy it is. No more visits to a salon or time-consuming do-it-yourself sessions at home. It may be healthier to avoid chemicals on our scalp.   

But some people like to see the brunette, blonde, or red-haired person they have always known looking back at them from the mirror. Colored hair usually looks younger, which may be a benefit in certain occupations.   

A friend and mentor of mine kept dyeing her hair until she left this world at 94. No one who knew her would call her shallow or vain. She had a reputation for being wise, loving, and lovable.    

Back to lawns. For years, I have been trying to replace my front lawn with plants useful to pollinators. I have variously suffocated the grass with black plastic, cardboard, or straw. One year, I hit it on all fronts. I used black plastic, straw, and had it plowed. I sprayed with a chemical. I thought I had seen the last of it.    

A satisfying crop of sainfoin, a cousin of alfalfa, bloomed where the lawn had been, and flowered for months. The bees loved it. I considered it beautiful, with its multiple pink flowers on every stalk, loaded with bees. But when a friend visited, he asked, “You planted this? Looks like a bunch of weeds.”

Morning glory (bindweed) wound its nasty self around the sainfoin stalks, choked it, and killed it. I turned my battle to getting rid of bindweed, a labor-intensive effort.

Just when I thought I had won, grass returned and pushed out the sainfoin. Grass puts up a fight. I turned to cardboard and tarps again, and starved the grass of water. By then, I had learned that sainfoin requires more water than some alternatives, and planted clover.

I live in a rural area with lax zoning regulations and no HOAs governing lawn care. It would be harder for me if disapproving neighbors scowled my way. 

Advocates for native plants talk about the advantage of not mowing lawns. That may be true once the grass has been vanquished and native plants have established themselves. I have struggled to learn how much water native plants need, and which ones agree with my kind of soil. My back yard, still in grass, seems easy to care for by contrast.   

I am not giving up. The clover I planted last fall peeked through before the snows came. I’m told it will give grass a run for its money. And we know how bees feel about clover.  

The manager at the garden center where I bought clover seed had just returned from a national conference. He told me it is only a matter of time until lawns disappear. He sells lawn seed and lawn products, and anticipates modifying his inventory. Extended drought in the Western U.S., and the world-wide shortage of water mean that drought-tolerant plants will replace lawns.   

We will learn to see them as beautiful. Sort of like gray hair.

Early North American bee fossil

We appreciate bees because they give us delicious honey. And we bless them for an abundant assortment of fruits, vegetables, berries, and nuts to nourish us. But we forget, or maybe never knew, that ancient bees gave the world something else. Color!   

The planet looked much different 130 million years ago. New continents emerged from shifting land masses, new oceans were still forming. Green trees, some of them ancestors of present-day trees, grew in lush forests. Huge, herbivore dinosaurs had plenty of vegetation to consume. Pterosaurs with 40-foot wingspans flew over this ancient scene, and looked down on landscapes that were green, gray, brown and tan. Colorful flowers had not arrived.  

Plants reproduced inefficiently. The wind carried pollen, but most of it fell on the ground or was carried out to sea. A tiny percentage of pollen fell on female plants, by chance. Sometimes pollen caught in the hairs of big, clumsy animals and spread that way, but overall, plants reproduced slowly, and took a long time to spread.  

Insects liked nutritious pollen. Some insects got good at collecting it. Sometimes, insects accidentally dropped pollen onto female flowers.

Flowers saw an opening. They began to compete for the attention of insects. They started to grow in conspicuous shapes, and wear an array of colors that would stand out in a monochromatic scene, and be visible to insects.

The insects developed modifications, too, such as body hair, to assist them in collecting pollen. Bees and flowers evolved together. Honey bees have hairy areas on their back legs, called pollen baskets. A forager honey bee can carry almost her own weight in pollen.

As an added enticement, flowers became fragrant. Upping their game once more, flowers started to produce nectar to attract pollinators. Flowers hid the nectar so the insects would need to spend time when they visited, and get saturated with pollen. The insects, in turn, evolved long tongues to reach the nectar.

Scientists tell us that an 80-million-year-old bee, fossilized in amber, had already evolved a social lifestyle. Scientists found evidence of picnics and parties, I guess.

Until recently, entomologists believed bees evolved from carnivorous wasps. But now a University of Washington team has a different idea. An extensive genomic project showed that bees evolved more quickly than previously thought in the Southern Hemisphere. That may be one reason that hemisphere has such diverse and vivid plants.    

Those of us who endure long winters cherish the spring moment when we walk outside and see a yellow, or ruby red, or purple flower standing tall in a patch of mud-brown earth. We praise that flower with poems and songs.  

Let us also send gratitude to the bee, who played an indispensable part in creating a world of vibrant color.   

As we walk into the new year, bee lovers see pockets of good news to smile about. Those include: reports of a promising vaccine against disease, bumble bees who fight off Asian hornets, and states adopting measures to limit the use of neonics, a family of chemicals that wreaks havoc on pollinators.   

Scientists had long believed that insects don’t create antibodies, so vaccines wouldn’t work on them. But researchers discovered that bees have a primitive immune system. A queen bee had an immune response when exposed to bacteria. The University of Georgia, partnered with a private animal health corporation, discovered that a vaccinated queen will pass immunity to her numerous offspring. A scientist said it was “like magic.”

The vaccine can combat foulbrood, a bacterial disease that until now has been incurable. Our government, along with those of other countries, requires infected bees, hives, and all beekeeping equipment, to be burned and buried. The disease can wipe out a commercial or backyard beekeeper.  

The new vaccine is expected to protect against other diseases and viruses, too. And maybe some pests.     

So far, negative side effects have not been observed in colonies, and the vaccine hasn’t had an impact on the honey.

The yellow-legged Asian hornet has invaded mainland Europe, where it has no natural enemies, parts of east Asia, and for the first time has been spotted in the US. Sightings in the UK and mainland Europe are at an all-time high, and people fear for the bees.

But scientists in the UK found that a certain species of bumblebee will fight back, and defeat the hornets. The bumblebees drop to the ground when the hornets attack, and carry the pests with them. Hornets lose their grip as they drop, or the bee raises its stinger and fights until the hornet gives up.

Surprised scientists watched 120 attacks that had the same outcome. The bumblebees triumphed.

Hornets hover outside the nests of bees, and attack returning foragers. But when the hornets try the same thing with bumblebees, they fail.

But the attacks are energetically costly for the bumblebees. And if hornet populations are high, it can be a major problem for foraging bees.

“Hornets consume nectar from flowers, meaning they compete with bees for food and harass them at flower patches,” a scientist said.

The team has placed colonies of the buff-tailed bumblebees in several locations in Spain, where Asian hornets have invaded.

California became the latest state to restrict the use of neonics. The new law takes neonics out of the hands of homeowners, but allows lawn care companies to continue using them. California law falls short of the strongest state laws in Nevada, New Jersy and Maine, which have eliminated all outdoor, nonagricultural uses of these chemicals, even by lawn care companies.

In June, 2023, Nevada became the third state to ban lawn and garden use of neonics. Colorado prohibits homeowner use of land and garden neonic products, which resembles laws in Maryland, New York, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Vermont. Minnesota recently banned neonic use on state lands and granted home-rule subdivisions the authority to ban “pollinator-lethal pesticides.”  

Bee advocates who worry about declining bee population celebrate these steps in the right direction. But the state-level restrictions pale in comparison to robust protections in the European Union (EU). The EU has banned neonicotinoid pesticide use on all outdoor areas, allowing use only in enclosed greenhouses.

Friends of bees love to hear good news.

The radio announcer said the guest from the Idaho Transportation Department would speak about making highways friendly for wildlife. I assumed the spokesperson would talk on a well-publicized subject—protecting migratory routes for deer, elk, and pronghorns.

Instead, the person talked about the agency’s efforts to establish habitat for pollinators around highways.

Idaho has millions of acres planted in farm crops, and many leading crops rely on pollinators. The transportation department has partnered with the Idaho Department of Agriculture to come to the aid of ants, butterflies, beetles, and of course bees, by planting pollinator-friendly plants at rest areas, around state buildings, and next to highways.

Predictions of extended drought here in the West have increased the interest in native plants to replace water-loving, non-native species. State employees have planted native species that fit the arid environment at a rest area on I-84.

Plants that attract pollinators will help other wildlife species, because little creatures get eaten by larger ones.   

The Idaho Transportation Department (ITD) understands the public may need to adjust its expectations. Some popular ornamental flowers do nothing for pollinators. Tidy, well-groomed plots of grass near roadways look orderly, compared to native flowering plants that can look helter-skelter.

Revegetating areas that have been highly disturbed can be a challenge, too. Employees are using compost to amend the soil in those places. The native plants may need to be watered at first, too, to help them send down the deep roots that will stabilize the soil. The agency gives preference to plants that bloom from early spring until fall.

The ITD pollinator wellness program also includes evaluating when and where to mow.

In another state, Illinois’ Department of Transportation has adopted new mowing procedures aimed at creating and protecting habitat for pollinators, including the monarch butterfly. Their strategy regulates when mowing occurs, and reduces the amount of land mowed.

The ITD also participates in Operation Wildflower, where districts distribute native wildflowers to volunteer groups for seeding selected areas. The ITD and Idaho Fish and Game are cooperating to make pollinator waystations, seeding roadsides with native flowers and grasses.

This goes beyond supporting pollinators. The native flowers and grasses beautify the roadways and reduce maintenance costs. The ITD uses a variety of native seeds for revegetating around construction and maintenance projects.

It is cheering to picture deep-rooted, drought-tolerant flowers and shrubs taking hold along the roadways, stabilizing the soil and attracting pollinators. Hardworking bees might sympathize with the words of the 19^th Century poet, Sam Walter Ross, who wrote,

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

A friend loaned me a novel where a woman beekeeper tells much of the story. The book had great pacing, and the author showed a knowledge of beekeeping and honey collection. For a while, I wondered if the writer might be a beekeeper. But at some point, I decided she wasn’t. I read up on her, and it appears she isn’t. 

Yesterday I saw an email from a beekeeper that included the statement, “Nothing humbles me like observing bees.” That was it! What I found missing in the novel. The author had a ton of information, but didn’t convey the awe that beekeepers feel for bees. 

I’m generalizing. Some beekeepers may have a strictly practical outlook on beekeeping. But the ones I know rhapsodize about the small creatures in their care.  

The bee body perfectly suits the role the bee plays in nature. Previously, we looked at the bee’s antenna, mouthparts, and brain. Now we’ll look at the rest of the body.

Some animals and insects try to hide from predators. That would not work for bees, considering their occupation. They advertise their presence with light and dark stripes, warning predators and intruders to be careful—they can sting. Workers have a barbed stinger. Extracting it from mammalian skin usually kills the bee. Queen bees don’t have barbed stingers and could sting repeatedly, but humans seldom encounter a queen, and being stung by one is rare. Drone bees don’t have stingers.

 The honeybee has a layer of hair on its body to aid in gathering pollen and regulating body temperature.

The thorax (midsection), with its six legs and two pairs of wings, focuses on locomotion. Muscles in the thorax control the movement of the wings during flight, and rapid contractions control the movement of the wings. Lift-off happens when the bee does a propellor-like twist of its wings. A bee can fly at 15 miles per hour. Though a bee’s normal range is a three-mile radius, researchers found that bees can fly up to 25 miles in extenuating circumstances. 

Honey bee’s legs have six sections, making them flexible. The legs have taste receptors on the tips. The legs have claws for gripping, and sticky pads for landing on slick surfaces.

The front legs clean antennae; the rear legs have what are called pollen baskets, concave structures where pollen accumulates. The bee on a flower brushes the pollen that sticks to her body toward her hind legs. She mixes in some nectar to help keep the pollen together during flight.

The honeybee has two stomachs, one for collecting nectar, sometimes known as the crop. A special structure at the end of the crop prevents food from the other stomach entering and contaminating the nectar. When people call honey bee barf, that misunderstands the process. The crop can swell the abdomen to twice its size when transporting nectar.

The rectum also can swell. Bees won’t poop in the hive, so in northern climates like Idaho, bees  go months waiting for a warm day to take a cleansing flight. 

In queen bees, the abdomen holds the spermatheca, which stores an infinite number of sperm collected during her single mating flight. She goes home to lay 1,000 to 2,000 eggs a day until she dies, or the hive deposes her.

Most drones never mate. The few who do die in the act. The drone’s ejaculation is so explosive, the human ear can hear it. After that, the drone’s internal organs are ripped from him and he falls to his death. Sometimes a person comes across a drone in his death throes, and it is pitiful to see.

Young worker bees have the job of creating wax. Wax-producing scales located on the underside of the abdomen secrete liquefied wax, which hardens into thin scales when exposed to air. A worker creates about eight scales in a 12-hour period. A thousand scales make a single gram of wax. As a new beekeeper, I admitted at a beekeeper’s club that I threw away the wax. People turned and looked at me with horror. I don’t waste it now.

The next time you see a honey bee, consider how intricate, efficient, productive, and marvelous that tiny body is. And be humbled.

The last post, describing the bee’s marvelous body, got only as far as their crazy mouths and multi-talented antennae. On to the brain and eyes.

Scientists like to study bees because of their cognitive abilities. The honeybee brain, small as a poppy seed, manages complex tasks and social interactions that guide colony life. Like the waggle dance, which forager bees perform to tell others where the blooms are. The dancer conveys location, quantity, and quality of her discovery.

A worker bee becomes a forager after holding many other jobs in the hive, and when she does, a navigator gene switches on in her brain. Researchers have found that bees rely not only on scent and air pressure to find their way—they also memorize landmarks. Bees remember patterns and faces as well, and understand concepts such as above/below, and same/different.

One citizen-scientist experiment showed that bees learned faster when treated with caffeine than bees treated with dopamine, and the control bees. A study in the European Union showed that bees can count – at least up to five. And similar to humans, bees process information differently in the two hemispheres of their brains.

Those of us who react with fear when Math rears its complex head may feel uneasy about the results of an Australian study. That research showed that bees can learn to add and subtract.  

To find flowers, bees need good vision. Bees pick up odor cues, but only if they are close. They need to see them from a distance.  The bee has five eyes—two, large compound eyes made up of many tiny lenses, and three simple eyes located on the top of the head that detect light. A bee can sense a predator approaching from above.

The two larger eyes have tiny hairs that detect wind direction and allow bees to navigate when it is windy. Bees can see polarized light (light that goes through a filter), so bees can view the sun on a cloudy day.  

Bees can detect motion in as little as 1/300^th of a second. This allows them to see flowers swaying in the smallest breeze. Humans detect movement if it happens for longer than 1/50 of a second.

Bees can see in the ultraviolet spectrum, which humans cannot. Flowers that depend on bees for pollination have ultraviolet color patterns that catch the bee’s eye.  

Bees can distinguish dark from light, which allows them to see edges, which helps them identify shapes.  

Bees cannot see the color red, and interpret it as black, which they associate with predators. Bears, skunks, and raccoons have black noses. There is agreement that bees can’t see white, which is why beekeepers wear white bee suits and veils.    

Next time. More on the Incredible Buzzy Body.

A close look at any species, including our own, teaches us that living creatures adapt well to their environment. But the honey bee could win a prize for inhabiting a body superbly suited to her life and mission.     

Collecting nectar? The bee proboscis, a straw-like tongue, allows her to drink deeply from flowers. The proboscis also conveys taste. And, it allows for the transfer of food between bees, which is a part of honey production. Bees trade information, too, while transferring food.   

The bee proboscis is half as long as the bee’s head, which allows it to reach far into a blossom. The hairy tongue sticks to nectar, to pull it toward the mouth. As the bee feeds, a hollow bulb works like a pump to transfer nectar to the bee’s honey stomach. When not in use, the jointed proboscis folds up in the mouth, like pleats of an accordion.    

The bee has mandibles for chewing. Honey bee mandibles are spatula-shaped, with broad, flat tips for spreading and shaping wax.   

Bees have sensilla—hair-like structures sensitive to particular substances, located on their mouth parts and on their antennae.

Honey bee antennae function as a sensory power house, giving the bee the ability to touch, smell, taste and even hear.

Bees talk with other bees by touching antennae. Honeybees rely mainly on the right antennae to communicate, which mystifies scientists. Studies showed that bees don’t function as well when forced to use only their left antennae.

For many years, scientists thought bees, despite having powerful primary senses, couldn’t hear. Yet, bees responded to sound, which baffled them. The bee had nothing resembling an ear. It turned out that receptors on their antennae detect vibrations and the movement of air particles.  

Other places on the bee body can detect odors, but the antennae do the heavy lifting. They pack a whopping 170 odor receptors, which give bees their keen sense of smell.

A dog’s ability to smell is 10,000 times greater than that of a human, scientists say. During the pandemic, scientists conducted experiments to see if dogs could sniff out Covid. They could. But in separate experiments with bees, bees did it better. Experiments using dogs to sniff out cancer have shown much promise, but bees outperformed dogs in that, too.

One time a guest arrived at my house, eager to visit the bees. He admired bees and welcomed them to his fruit trees, but he had never stood close to a hive. Absorbed in conversation, I neglected some safety considerations. I stopped directly in front of the hive entrance, which puts guard bees on edge, and I wore a red shirt, a color bees dislike.  

Bees zoomed out of the hive, and two stung my guest on his face. He outran a third one. They should have stung me. I’m guessing they suspected an invader, but flew past me because they knew my scent.       

Next time: More on the buzzy body.  

A joke in beekeeping circles is, “Ask four beekeepers a question, and you will get five answers.”

I find beekeepers a congenial lot, but it’s true they hold conflicting opinions on many subjects. Like, how best to house bees, mite control—natural or chemical? —and frequent hive inspections vs. leave-bees-the-heck-alone. It is not surprising that the bee community, which includes bee researchers, disagrees about whether using honey in cooking and baking has health benefits.  

I don’t think anyone disputes that dishes and baked goods made with honey taste better. Custards made with sugar taste fine; custards made with honey taste glorious. Same for granola, and vegetable and meat glazes made with honey.

Many frontier recipes call for honey. Our great-grandmothers cooked with it because rural people kept bees.

When sugar was cheap, natural food advocates wanted to give people a reason to use expensive honey in cooking. Honey had antibacterial properties and antioxidants, vitamins, and minerals. Beekeeping sites and honey producers run food recipes that call for honey, along with recipes for honey-based beauty products like facial scrubs, and health remedies like wound ointments. But many people believe that the good properties in honey don’t survive heating.    

Practitioners of Ayurvedic medicine, an ancient health system still honored in India, claim that heating and cooking honey changes its natural composition. This, they believe, allows for toxic molecules to stick to mucous membranes of the digestive system, which can convert to a toxin called Ama, which leads to upset stomach, affects respiration, insulin sensitivity, skin diseases, and weight gain. For those who do not buy that, Ayurvedic proponents still advise—don’t heat honey, because it wastes honey’s health benefits. Don’t even put it in hot liquids. What? Morning tea without honey?

But what about the university research that validated the old-time remedy of honey in hot liquids? They found it beneficial for coughs and sore throats.  

It gets confusing. An article circulated by extension services laid down guidelines for heat and honey. Honey should not be heated rapidly over direct heat. The hotter the heat, the more potential for reducing nutritional value.

Honey begins to lose its healthful properties at 113F, and worsens at 122 F. It doesn’t say how long it takes for that damage to occur. One site recommends letting tea or coffee cool to a drinkable temperature before adding the honey.

As with most arguments, we can find evidence to support the theory we like best. Some articles say heat destroys the beneficial elements in honey, some say honey has a multitude of healthful components, some of which survive cooking. Some people point out that honey, even cooked, has a lower glycemic index and is better for people with diabetes and hypoglycemia. Some concede that honey loses some of its bioenzymes with cooking, but still imparts a nice aroma and flavor to baked goods.    

We may wish to consider the Placebo Effect and the Happiness Factor, too. When we believe a substance or pill helps our body, it does, even if the pill is worthless. Machines and tests have measured that in labs. And when we enjoy something, it triggers all sorts of health benefits, also verifiable in the lab. A recent study proclaimed ½ cup of ice cream per day as a surefire way to bolster health.

Take that, naysayers!  

Movies and TV shows sometimes set romantic scenes on rooftops.

Elegant food appears on a table laid with a linen cloth and fancy crystal. Lovely music plays on a speaker. After dining, the lovers nestle at the roof’s edge and gaze down on blinking lights.  

A rural person like me may think, “What is romantic about noise, crowding, and light pollution that obliterates the stars?” But it is all about what you’re accustomed to. These days, bees who formerly lived in meadows, trees, and yards are getting used to living on rooftops.  

Beekeepers in urban places have started to locate hives on top of buildings. Some studies report urban bees can be stronger and healthier than suburban and rural bees. It relates to diet. A variety of blooms makes bees healthier, and sometimes cities and towns offer a greater variety of flowers. In the suburbs and rural places, bees may harvest only one or a few kinds of blooms.  

In many places, towns and cities that had rules against beekeeping have changed their minds.  The local food movement helped jettison laws and codes that prohibited bees. Urban gardeners applaud the change; urban shopkeepers like to stock local honey.

Urban children who have bees living atop their building are brought closer to nature. They have the opportunity to observe bees coming and going, and they also learn to be careful around them.  

In response to the decline of bee numbers, the General Services Administration adopted the Pollinator Initiative that encourages federal facilities to locate bee hives on their roofs. Bee raisers contract with the government to locate hives atop courthouses and other federal buildings. One such facility is the Warren B. Rudman courthouse in Concord, New Hampshire.

The hives serve a research role, too. Program directors collect data on subjects like what plants are most beneficial to bees, and whether bees on rooftops benefit the flora of the entire area. The program hopes that if bees thrive, lessons learned can be passed along to other facilities, private and governmental.   

 A roof top must offer the bees a close source of water, so bees don’t have to expend a lot of energy travelling. And the roof should offer optimum temperatures in summer and winter.

But when too many hives live in an area with limited green spaces and flowers, bee health will suffer. This has been observed in London and New York City.

Urban settings can also be incubators for disease. Urban beekeepers must treat their hives for disease more often than rural beekeepers do, which is costly. And honeybees may pick up contaminants from city environments, which will appear in the honey. Beekeepers have found that sometimes honey produced by their bees was made from artificial sugars gathered from the urban environment.

Despite those hazards, rooftop beekeeping may help reverse the decline of bees. One bonus of the federal program has already come to pass. When bees produce more honey than they need, the excess goes to local food banks.

 Like most humans, bees labor in the daytime and slumber at night. Like us, they sleep for five to eight hours, and don’t function well if they miss those hours. Like us, they go through different stages of sleep—lighter to deeper. When they awaken, they take a while to get moving—no coffee available. They may stay immobile for a while, or quietly groom themselves or others.

Bees who don’t live in colonies, particularly males, often sleep on flowers. They grab hold of the flower with either their legs or mandibles. If the flower closes, that is all to the good, offering the bee protection from predators. Female solitary bees are likely to make nests. In the daytime, they visit flowers in search of nectar and pollen. The male bees take only quick sips of nectar, and devote their time to searching for a female to mate with, or driving off other males.

Honey bees sleep in their hives or nests. The foragers, who are older bees, generally sleep outside of cells, near the edge of the nest where it is cooler, and away from uncapped brood. Young worker bees usually sleep inside cells, near the center of the nest. They may not sleep consecutive hours, but waken and work at their jobs, sleep for a while, and then return to work.   

When bees lose sleep, they become less competent at their jobs. Researchers showed that sleep-deprived bees could not properly perform the waggle dance that tells their sisters where the blooms are. Foragers had trouble navigating a new route home, and showed signs of sleepiness, like, they moved their antennae less.

What disrupts bees and their sleep? Bears, raccoons, skunks, and mice raid at night and alarm the hive. Light and noise from humans can put a colony on edge.  

But troubling studies have shown that neonics, chemicals used in pesticides, upset the sleep cycle of bees and flies. One study of bumble bees found that when bees received a dose of neonics, in the amount they would encounter in normal life, it disturbed their usual sleep pattern. The bees slept more in the daytime, and tried to forage at night when flowers were unavailable.

If you come across a bee flitting about, not overly interested in flowers, it may be a solitary male searching for a female, or others males to chase off. Or it could be a normally ambitious forager, wandering about because she is short on sleep.

The World Wildlife Federation tells us that 90 percent of wild plants and 75 percent of the leading global crops depend on pollination. The pollinators have an enormous job. They need their rest.

“Why are your hives painted different colors?” my neighbor asked.

I told her someone theorized that if hives are different colors, it helps the bees find their way home. That was all the excuse some of us needed to pretty up our bee houses.

When I asked the young clerk at the Lowe’s paint desk for lavender outdoor paint, he protested. “No. Lavender isn’t an outdoor color.” Even after I explained it was for a bee house, he frowned while mixing it. It went against his grain.

Some beekeepers go beyond simple painting—they add flowers, designs, and stripes to the hives, and the bee yard becomes almost as attractive as nearby flower plots.  

Painting hives in assorted pastel colors is not practical for commercial bee keepers, and big producers also have less choice in what kind of structure to house their bees. Commercial outfits use the Langstroth hive, the box-like hive people see from their car windows, sitting side-by-side in fields or on hillsides. This is the most popular hive for backyard beekeepers, too, and has proven itself over time.

Rev. Lorenzo Langstroth, a Presbyterian minister, invented the Langstroth hive in l851. In one version of the story, he wanted to build a hive that allowed people to harvest honey without driving the bees out with fire. The more common version says the reverend discovered “bee space,” the distance between combs that bees prefer, and he designed his hive accordingly.  

Langstroth hives come with premade frames that hang side-by-side. Bees can go right to work filling combs with brood and honey.

Some backyard beekeepers like top bar hives. The beekeeper merely places bars at the top of the hive, and bees build the combs themselves. This takes longer, though some energetic hives can produce a triangular-shaped comb very quickly. But in northern climates, every warm day counts, and top bar hives don’t produce as much honey as Langstroths do.

Today, many honey producers supplement their incomes by sending their bees to the California almond groves to pollinate them. The Langstroth hive is portable, and its square shape means many fit on a semi-trailer. Top bar hives are stationary.     

Fans of top bar hives, and the similar Warre and Kenyan hives, like that their bees put brood and honey on comb freshly made by the bees, rather than on plastic frames that may contain a variety of chemicals. No expensive extracting equipment is needed. The beekeeper simply removes a single comb at a time and puts it in a squeezer made of two triangular-shaped pieces of wood, suspended over a large bowl. Every day, the beekeeper tightens clamps, until all the honey is squeezed out. The wax can be rendered for candles and other uses.

Top bar advocates believe the top bar design promotes good air circulation, making condensation, which can be a problem, less likely. Langstroth fans point out that their hives can expand—they merely add a box atop their full one. Top bar hives run out of room.

For all our preferences and debates about the best way to raise bees, we see that bees settle nicely into cavities of trees and under edges of objects to hide from predators. It appears they have less disease in the wild.

Bees get along nicely without us. But we can’t do without them.  

Most folks designate The Dog as humankind’s best friend. Stories abound that tell of dog loyalty, usefulness, bravery, and intelligence. Dogs pull sleds in the North, guide the blind, guard perimeters, detect seizures in humans before they happen, help children learn to read, and lick the hands of hospice patients. The least clever dog, who hasn’t a smidgen of agility, can change the course of a child’s life just by loving her.

Cats rank second in popularity in the U.S., but they give dogs a run for their money by starring in legions of YouTube videos. Cats rid barns and basements of rodents, purr against our necks, and remind us to put away our clean laundry.

Horses have their partisans. The Percheron crowd brag that their breed built young America. Horses have fulfilled all kinds of roles dating back to ancient times. Artists, photographers, and videographers never tire of trying to capture their beauty.

Oxen, sheep, cattle, hogs, poultry, and fish supply us with food. Yaks, water buffalo, camels, and elephants play vital roles in various cultures. Reptiles and amphibians also impact human communities. Birds enchant us when they sing, and inspire us when they soar.

Because she is small, and a bug, the bee does not come to mind when we think about close, nonhuman allies. But we cannot do without her.  Bees pollinate our key food crops, from delicious fruits to healthful vegetables and nuts. Even dairy producers depend on bees, because cows eat nourishing alfalfa.  

Bees share honey with us. While tasting great, honey also has antimicrobial and antioxidant properties. Studies continually find more ways that honey helps combat illnesses and ailments.

We enjoy the variety, beauty, and fragrance of flowers and trees that bees pollinate.   

 I am not suggesting we knock dogs off their pedestals as humankind’s Best Friend. But when we list True Friends, bees ought to be in the Top Five.  

Most of us want to do right by our friends. And bees are dying in droves.

Two things nearly anyone can do for bees: 

1. Find online the NRDC petition that asks the EPA to ban neonics, a family of harmful chemicals that wreak havoc on bees. Some of these chemicals are 5 to 10 thousand times more toxic to bees that DDT was, and they pose a threat to us, also. The EU and other countries have banned them. Or, find a petition against Bayer, their producer, or send Bayer a letter.  

2. Nourish bees. Even if you have just a window box, plant flowers that bees love.  

The future that belongs to young people will need a healthy bee population for pollinating crops.  Some youth understand that. Here are three of them.

California teen Rory Hu won a science competition for her research with honeybees. The girl became concerned about bee health after reading of the serious decline in their numbers. 

Hu learned that pesticides can harm memory in bees, making them unable to find flowers, or find their way home after harvesting nectar. Hu burrowed bees from a beekeeper to run an experiment. She feared the bees at first, but later decided they are “really cute.”

Hu wanted to find out if polyphenols, a plant compound found in tea, and caffeine, a stimulant, could help bees learn. If so, they might be used to help bees regain their foraging abilities. She won $10,000 when she demonstrated they could.

A high school girl in Connecticut put forth a solution to the varroa mite problem that plagues bee colonies. Raina Jain was in high school a few years ago when she became aware of the bee crisis and started visiting beekeepers.

Varroa mites attach themselves to honeybees, feed on them, and weaken them. Bees, also contending with the adverse effects of pesticides and monoculture (planting large areas of one crop, while bees need a variety of nourishing blooms) don’t have the vigor to fight off varroa infestations.

Jain said, “I’ve been brought up with the principle of ‘live, and let live,’ to value every life, no matter how small,” Jain said. “You hear all these things on the news, but you don’t realize how important bees are until you see them firsthand. I kept hearing that bees are in danger, and the population is decreasing, but I didn’t really understand what that meant until I saw a bee farm and saw hundreds of empty and absconded hives and piles of dead bees.”

Jain wanted to design a narrow entryway that would stop the mites. She applied thymol, a naturally occurring pesticide, to the entryway. A forager bee makes 40 trips to the hive in a day, and at each departure and return, the bee had contact with thymol, which is destructive to mites, but did no harm to the bees. The small amount of pesticide did not contaminate the wax, honey, or pollen, either.

In one lab experiment, the treated-entry method caused a 70 percent reduction in mites in three weeks, with no harm to bees.

Covid interrupted further research for a while, but Jain, now a college student, has patented her entryway.

Recently, CBS Sunday morning ran the story of Maine 11-year-old Elizabeth Downs, who started keeping bees at age six and who now acts as an ambassador for them. Her local bee club, made up of adult members, named her the youth outreach person. She gives presentations at school, explaining to her peers how important bees are for the well-being of people.  

A neighbor with a large garden started Elizabeth’s education. Another neighbor, a beekeeper, saw her intense interest in bees and gave her a hive of her own and outfitted her in a way-too-big bee suit.            

 Elizabeth wanted to learn all she could, and at age 8 she enrolled in a university, online beekeeping course. 

When she is working with bees, Elizabeth feels calm.  “I love the sound of their buzz.” She aspires to one day be the state apiarist.  

I pointed to the honey bowl on the table and told my guests, “For your toast.”

“No thanks,” said one. “I don’t eat bug barf.”

It wasn’t the first time I had heard golden, delicious honey described that way. But it suggests a misunderstanding of how bees make this wonderful food.

We connect barfing with sick or sour stomachs, discomfort, and illness. Honey-making involves stomachs, but has nothing in common with vomit.

The process starts when the worker bee lands on a flower. She pokes her long tongue into the bloom’s nectar to suck it up. The sticky liquid goes into her honey stomach, separate from her other stomach. (On a high-temperature day, I yearn for a second stomach, or maybe even more, like a cow. I would fill extra bellies with ice cream.)

While the worker collects nectar, pollen from the flower adheres to her hairy body. She has pollen baskets on her rear legs. The bees will combine protein-rich pollen with honey to feed to their young.

Even as this worker collects more nectar, (she visits 50-200 flowers in one trip) enzymes in her honey stomach begin working on the liquid to break up the sugars.

The forager bee returns to the hive carrying her weight in nectar and pollen. At the hive, a householder bee greets her to relieve her of the nectar load. The forager burps up the contents of her honey stomach into the mouth of the other bee. That bee adds its own enzymes to the liquid to make it stickier, then shares that with yet another bee, who adds more enzymes. The honey, like the plot, thickens. About ten bees involve themselves in adding enzymes to the nectar the forager brought home.

Meanwhile, the forager has gone off to collect more nectar, and will work as long as the light lasts.

The bees deposit the honey in octagonal cells, but its water content is still too high. Other bees get busy fanning the cells with their wings to dry out the liquid. It takes about five days for the honey to ripen. At that point, another crew puts a coating of wax atop the cells to keep the honey clean and protect it for winter consumption and for feeding the young.

Once a person understands the work and effort that goes into making honey, it is impossible to let even a drop of it go to waste at the bottom of a jar.

And it becomes harder to think of the transfer of nectar as anything close to barfing. Seems to me, a mouth-to-mouth transfer of sweetness more closely resembles kissing.    

A well-dressed gentleman lifts a tiny, crystal glass from a lace-covered table. Several goblets sit side by side, holding amber goo. The man picks up a doll-size silver spoon, dips it into the goblet, and smears the spoon’s contents onto his lips. His tongue runs around his mouth. He sighs.

“Robust, though delicate. Retains a memory of August berries and morning dew.” He sets the goblet down, gulps water from a regular glass, and moves to the next one.   

A woman in elegant silk similarly raises a goblet and dunks a spoon into it. She places the goo on her tongue and clamps her mouth shut. “Hmm,” she says. “Somber, yet hints at gaiety.  A warbler’s song lingers in the back of the throat.”

I don’t know whether formal honey tastings occur. But when food, taste, and flavor enter the picture, snobbery often follows. Wine, tea, coffee, and chocolate have fierce enthusiasts who champion favorites. Even milk, our first and most basic food, attracts zealous fans. Full or reduced fat? Pasteurized or raw? Can products derived from oat, coconut, almond and soy claim to be milk? Are yak, camel, and goat milk more healthful? Be sure to check around for purists before bringing up the subject of milk.        

I have been to two honey tastings—both connected to beekeeping classes. Paper pill cups held the honey, and we dipped toothpicks in them. It was fun and enlightening.

A thick, black variety that looked like molasses surprised me. The placard said Buckwheat. Tiny buckwheat flowers require the bees to work hard. Flowers often come in dark colors, but buckwheat honey can be reddish or amber, too. It isn’t as sweet as most other honey, but its strong flavor makes it great for baking. Buckwheat honey advocates say it may be better for you and help keep blood sugar levels down in diabetics.

Manuka honey has attracted a following. Native to New Zealand, this honey comes from the Manuka bush and contains methylglyoxal, which may strengthen its antibacterial properties.  Fans say its health benefits have been proven in studies. Those include improvement in digestive health, soothing coughs, ulcers, acne, and gingivitis, and even mitigating some symptoms of cystic fibrosis. Generally, this honey costs more.  

More than 300 varieties of honey have been identified. Clover may be the most popular kind. Harvested in New Zealand, Canada, and North America, clover honey tastes sweet and light, and works well in recipes.  

 Elvish honey, the most cherished in the world, comes from a cave in northern Turkey and has been called the true nectar of the gods. Elvish honey costs $6,800 for a gram.

Here are a few of the others:

Dandelion honey, a strong honey, has a dandelion aroma and is considered medicinal in China, Tibet, and India.  

Mesquite honey, from the southwestern United States, has a smoky aroma.

Lavender honey has a woody and floral taste.

Fireweed honey, a premium honey, comes from Western Canada and the Northwestern U.S.

Orange blossom, from a combination of citrus fruits, has a fresh, fruity taste, and is made and consumed in many countries. In the U.S., Florida, California, and Texas produce it.

Alfalfa honey, mostly produced in the United States and Canada, has a mild, sweet taste and combines nicely with beverages like tea and lemonade.   

Eucalyptus honey is valued across the world for protection against colds and headaches. It can vary in taste, but has an herbal flavor and slight aftertaste of menthol.

With so many and varied kinds of honey, the opportunity for honey tasting events seems endless. Along with the prospect of pretentious metaphors.  

Imagine that you are a soldier, wounded during the American Civil War. The medic treating you served only a brief apprenticeship, and few medicines are available to put on your wound. Carbolic or nitric acids. Turpentine. Whiskey could be poured on your injury, but you would rather it go down your throat to dull your pain.

To your relief, the regiment has run out of bromine. The other remedies sting horribly, but bromine is excruciating.

Anesthetics are rationed, so you brace yourself for a painful treatment. Instead, the medic smooths warm honey on your wound. The antibacterial properties of honey are not yet understood, but the medic has had good success applying it.  

That was then. Today, we have a myriad of patented medicines available. So why is the medical community studying whether honey has a place in wound treatment? Because the overuse of antibiotics has made germs drug-resistant.

Studies in Germany showed that a specific kind of medical-use honey helped heal wounds when other medicines had failed. Honey has been found to be effective against a strain of flesh-eating Staphylococcus. The medical-honey business now brings in millions of dollars. Honey-infused bandages and wound dressings have become readily available. (Disclaimer. Doctors remind us that burns and open wounds require prompt medical attention.)

Honey-based ointments have made their way into the world of veterinary medicine, to treat animals small and large.      

What claims do members of the natural medicine/folk-cure community make? They say honey soothes stomach aches. Nips colds in the bud. Is good for eczema, insect bites, and sunburn. Prevents acne. Soothes dry skin. Aids in foot care. Treats bed sores.

Some believe honey helps prevent tooth decay and gingivitis. A study in New Zealand involving manuka honey (raw, unpasteurized honey made from the manuka plant found in New Zealand) supported this claim.  

Cleopatra, the story goes, took milk and honey baths. Folks desiring pretty skin give themselves honey and oatmeal facials, use honey and baking soda masks, or use just honey. Commercial skin products abound that feature honey as an ingredient.   

Beekeepers insist that consuming honey has a positive health impact. They understand that medicine with a great flavor has appeal.     

I think we shouldn’t overlook the honey/happiness effect. A piece of wholesome bread, warm from the oven, slathered with butter and drowning in honey, has to bolster the health of the person eating it. I feel better just imagining it.