Bee Business

Photo credit: istockphoto

Charlie Vorisek opens a door off his garage and steps into a dark, chilly room lit by bare red bulbs near the ceiling. It’s quiet, except for the hum of fans keeping air circulating in the 39-degree room.

On the floor are three neat rows of wooden boxes, each standing a few feet high. Vorisek opens the lid of one and gingerly peels back a lining of newsprint. Underneath is a squirming knot of about a thousand bees, balling together for warmth.

This is how the bees at Vorisek’s Backyard Bee Farm in Linesville, Pa., spend their winters, a season that’s come to mean devastating losses for bee populations in the Lake Erie region and elsewhere. In the United States, the number of managed hives has dropped 60 percent since the 1940s. Feral bees have all but disappeared.

On this day, as warmer temperatures signal it’s time for his colonies to get outside and down to the business of spring pollination, Vorisek is taking stock of how his bees have fared during the winter.

Last fall he had 100 hives. Only 55 have survived.

“It’s one of the mysteries of beekeeping, trying to figure out why you lost them,” says Vorisek.

Plenty of our region’s beekeepers are puzzling over exactly that question. Losing 30 percent to 35 percent of hives each winter has become typical, and there’s been a steady decline in bee populations for more than 60 years, says Penn State bee researcher Dennis vanEngelsdorp.

Some of the reasons for this decline are well-understood. Bee populations, both domesticated and feral, have been assaulted by parasites, such as the varroa mite, and a variety of diseases.

But other reasons remain a mystery. Since 2006, beekeepers have been experiencing a puzzling decline termed colony collapse disorder. Each year, millions of bees abandon their hives, flying off to die.Theories explaining the loss (none of which have been proven) include the arrival of new parasites or pathogens, the unexpected harmful effects of pesticides, apiary overcrowding and the pollination of crops with low nutritional value.

“We beekeepers feel that it’s the pesticides being used out in the field,” says Vorisek.

So why should this matter to those of us who consider bees only unwelcome guests at summer picnics?

“One out of every three bites of food you eat are pollinated directly or indirectly by honeybees,” says vanEngelsdorp. “Our fruit and vegetable producers need to have a viable pollination supply.”

Now for the good news — the Lake Erie region has some great things going for it when it comes to keeping bees. “It’s heaven here for bees if things are right,” says vanEngelsdorp. “There’s a very rich and long history of beekeeping.”

Our weather patterns and agricultural variety produce a delectable medley of plants for bees to pollinate, spring through fall: crops and orchards, wildflowers and trees.

Diversity in pollination sources for bees means various honey flavors for us. The dozen or so types of raw honey Vorisek offers at his roadside stand and farmers markets include rich, marshmallowy black locust honey; light, sweet Canola honey; and the malty, dark buckwheat variety.

Two of the hives managed by
Schroeck, who has been keeping bees since 1982 and now teaches a course on the subject at the Asbury Woods Nature Center in Erie, Pa.

Lighter honeys, which are often also sweeter, are favored for tea and coffee, says Vorisek, while dark honeys are great on toast and are often selected for their disease-fighting antioxidants.

Munro Honey of Alvinston, Ontario, has been keeping bees since 1914 and is now one of Ontario’s largest honey producers, with 2,500 hives. In the company’s early days, a typical winter loss was 5 percent of hives, says owner John Bryans, but at the peak of colony collapse disorder, during the winter of 2008, Munro lost 50 percent.

“It double whammies you,” says Bryans. “You don’t have the bees to send out for pollination and have to weaken the other colonies to make new hives.” What’s more, the honey crop is smaller, which means less income.

The bright spot for Bryans has been growing interest in locally produced honey, sales of which have helped him weather tough losses.

All the buzz about bees’ troubles has also ignited interest in hobby beekeeping. Charlie Schroeck is a mechanical engineer who’s been keeping bees at his Erie, Pa., home since 1982. Eight years ago he started teaching a class on beginning beekeeping at Asbury Woods Nature Center in Erie, which early on attracted barely a dozen students each spring. Now he’s capping enrollment at 30 and has to turn people away.

Despite the challenges, Vorisek is ramping up his bee business, which grew out of a Future Farmers of America project his daughter started in 1992. He was laid off from his tool-and-die job last year, so he’s pouring all his efforts into building up his honey sales and pollination business, hoping to reach 300 hives in the coming years.

No matter how big he gets, Vorisek’s honey will remain locally sold and locally produced. “It’s the people close by who got me here,” Vorisek says, “and I’m going to keep my honey local.”