Save Bees = Ban Round-Up
Several years ago, a friend and mentor, a real MacGyver type, told me that after years of keeping bees, he was no longer going to do so. The heartbreak of loss, year after year, was too much for him to bear. Mouth agape, I nodded as if I understood. But in truth I was confused, miffed, even judgemental. How could he give up?
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According to the NRDC, bees pollinate $15 billion worth of U.S. crops every year, but bees are dying; an alarming 40% of honeybee colonies collapsed from 2017 to 2018, and more of our 4,000-plus species of wild bees, like the rusty patched bumblebee, are edging toward extinction. Further, scientific evidence points to neonicotinoid pesticides, the most heavily used insecticides in the U.S., which can kill bees on contact and harm their ability to navigate, forage, and reproduce. These chemicals also spread through soil and water, making the pollen and nectar poisonous to bees and other pollinators.
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Recently I saw an old man in the neighborhood spraying pesticide on his patchy lawn. Bees fly five miles from their hives in search of pollen, so the habits of my better-living-through-chemistry ignoramus neighbor affects my bees. Hell, he’s affecting my air and water, too.
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Unfortunately I’m now acutely empathetic to my friend’s heartache, having lost two hives in two years. We managed to salvage several frames of honeycomb from the hive before it was completely robbed out by the insatiable wasps, who can smell vulnerability in a weakened beehive, each a tiny menacing horror of evolution clad in black and yellow.
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The antique carbon steel honey knife, a Parisian flea market find, was doused in boiling water so it easily sliced through the honeycomb, dislodging it from the frame. Thick blocks of comb oozed chestnut-hued honey, emanating aromas of citrus blossoms and figs and endless varieties of July wildflowers, which were lovingly seeded into boxes and beds for both the bees and our salad bowls.
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These moments of joyful connection are fleeting, tempered by the bittersweet understanding that the bees’ highly industrious lives are cut short, but their work is integral to our well-being. Who speaks for the bees?
