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The Beekeeper's Lament: How One Man and Half a Billion Honey Bees Help Feed America
The honey bee is a willing conscript, a working wonder, an unseen and crucial link in America's agricultural industry. But never before has its survival been so unclear and the future of our food supply so acutely challenged.
Enter beekeeper John Miller, who trucks his hives around the country, bringing millions of bees to farmers otherwise bereft of natural pollinators. Even as the mysterious and deadly epidemic known as Colony Collapse Disorder devastates bee populations across the globe, Miller forges ahead with the determination and wry humor of a true homespun hero. The Beekeeper's Lament tells his story and that of his bees, making for a complex, moving, and unforgettable portrait of man in the new natural world.
Enter beekeeper John Miller, who trucks his hives around the country, bringing millions of bees to farmers otherwise bereft of natural pollinators. Even as the mysterious and deadly epidemic known as Colony Collapse Disorder devastates bee populations across the globe, Miller forges ahead with the determination and wry humor of a true homespun hero. The Beekeeper's Lament tells his story and that of his bees, making for a complex, moving, and unforgettable portrait of man in the new natural world.
291 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 4, 2011
942 people are currently reading
2650 people want to read
About the author
Hannah Nordhaus
6 books93 followersHannah Nordhaus is a journalist and bestselling nonfiction author of The Beekeeper’s Lament and American Ghost. She writes about history, science and the natural world for National Geographic, Scientific American and many other publications.
Hannah’s first book, The Beekeeper’s Lament, released in 2011, is a non-fiction portrait of a fourth-generation beekeeper in the middle of a strange and sobering honey bee die-off. The Beekeeper’s Lament was a PEN Center USA Book Awards finalist, a Colorado Book Awards finalist, and a National Federation of Press Women Book Award winner.
Her second book, American Ghost, released in 2015, untangles the complicated legend of Hannah’s great-great-grandmother, Julia Staab, who traveled the Santa Fe Trail to New Mexico in 1866 as a mail-order bride. American Ghost was winner of the WILLA Literary Awards, the Seven Sisters Book Awards, NM-AZ Book Awards Finalist and was named to Entertainment Weekly’s and The Denver Post’s Best Books of 2015 lists. Both books were national bestsellers.
Hannah’s nonfiction journalism has appeared in National Geographic, Wired, Smithsonian, Scientific American, the Wall St. Journal, Financial Times, Outside, Times Literary Supplement (TLS), and many other publications, covering such subjects as contested public lands in the American West, besieged beekeepers in California, carrion beetles in Oklahoma, corn beetles in the American heartland, intrepid nuns on the western frontier, and dog-poop mappers in Colorado.
Hannah grew up in Washington D.C. She received degrees in American Studies and history from Yale University and the University of Colorado. She lives in Boulder, Colorado.
She loves talking with readers - for Book Clubs and 1:1s, find her now on Skolay: skolay.com/writers/hannah-nordhaus
Hannah’s first book, The Beekeeper’s Lament, released in 2011, is a non-fiction portrait of a fourth-generation beekeeper in the middle of a strange and sobering honey bee die-off. The Beekeeper’s Lament was a PEN Center USA Book Awards finalist, a Colorado Book Awards finalist, and a National Federation of Press Women Book Award winner.
Her second book, American Ghost, released in 2015, untangles the complicated legend of Hannah’s great-great-grandmother, Julia Staab, who traveled the Santa Fe Trail to New Mexico in 1866 as a mail-order bride. American Ghost was winner of the WILLA Literary Awards, the Seven Sisters Book Awards, NM-AZ Book Awards Finalist and was named to Entertainment Weekly’s and The Denver Post’s Best Books of 2015 lists. Both books were national bestsellers.
Hannah’s nonfiction journalism has appeared in National Geographic, Wired, Smithsonian, Scientific American, the Wall St. Journal, Financial Times, Outside, Times Literary Supplement (TLS), and many other publications, covering such subjects as contested public lands in the American West, besieged beekeepers in California, carrion beetles in Oklahoma, corn beetles in the American heartland, intrepid nuns on the western frontier, and dog-poop mappers in Colorado.
Hannah grew up in Washington D.C. She received degrees in American Studies and history from Yale University and the University of Colorado. She lives in Boulder, Colorado.
She loves talking with readers - for Book Clubs and 1:1s, find her now on Skolay: skolay.com/writers/hannah-nordhaus
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 394 reviews
August 7, 2012
This was, without doubt a very enjoyable book to read, even though it wasn’t much of a science book. If you want to find more about bees themselves, read The Buzz About Bees, which I think is unbeaten as an exploration of the nature of bees. Here you won’t really even get a feel for what a superorganism is, or how individual bees really aren’t animals in their own right. However what you will find a lot about is beekeepers and their complication-ridden business.
I was amazed at the complexity of industrial scale beekeeping in the US – how, for example, the bee people are paid large sums by almond growers to transport their hives into the almond groves to perform the pollination, then have to move out again swiftly as there is no food at all for the bees once the blossoms have gone. This whole idea of driving thousands of hives across America is one I simply hadn’t realized existed.
Similarly it was fascinating to read about all the difficulties industrial beekeepers have faced. Like most people I was vaguely aware of the ‘disappearing bees’ when Colony Collapse Disorder struck, but not just how delicate bees were and how afflicted by other disasters, particular a nasty mite that destroys them wholesale.
Equally, along with that vague awareness I thought bees were in danger of disappearing – and they would if left to their own devices – but so effective is the industrial process that bee numbers are being kept up by setting up new colonies with remarkable rapidity.
This is, without doubt a very readable book, though I do find Hannah Nordhaus’s writing style a little self-consciously arty. There are bits of science that you’ll find out along the way, but it’s much more about the industry and its ups and downs, something that’s fascinating in its own right. Recommended.
Review first published on www.popularscience.co.uk and reproduced with permission
I was amazed at the complexity of industrial scale beekeeping in the US – how, for example, the bee people are paid large sums by almond growers to transport their hives into the almond groves to perform the pollination, then have to move out again swiftly as there is no food at all for the bees once the blossoms have gone. This whole idea of driving thousands of hives across America is one I simply hadn’t realized existed.
Similarly it was fascinating to read about all the difficulties industrial beekeepers have faced. Like most people I was vaguely aware of the ‘disappearing bees’ when Colony Collapse Disorder struck, but not just how delicate bees were and how afflicted by other disasters, particular a nasty mite that destroys them wholesale.
Equally, along with that vague awareness I thought bees were in danger of disappearing – and they would if left to their own devices – but so effective is the industrial process that bee numbers are being kept up by setting up new colonies with remarkable rapidity.
This is, without doubt a very readable book, though I do find Hannah Nordhaus’s writing style a little self-consciously arty. There are bits of science that you’ll find out along the way, but it’s much more about the industry and its ups and downs, something that’s fascinating in its own right. Recommended.
Review first published on www.popularscience.co.uk and reproduced with permission
July 24, 2011
The age of mass production has not been kind to bees.
Before humans intervened, before the days of agribusiness, bees left to their own devices had hard, short, and sometimes violent and vicious lives. Since we've started helping them, their lives are worse. And we owe them a huge debt of gratitude.
This fascinating book looks at the lives of bees and at one cantankerous commercial beekeeper, John Miller. It is no small irony that someone who “isn't fond of death,” who takes it personally is involved in death everyday; it is part of the business.
Like many, I had heard of CDC, Colony Collapse Disorder, that has wreaked havoc among bees and their keepers. What I didn't realize that CDC is only a part of the problem, that bees are susceptible to a whole host of fatal and really nasty diseases. And the solutions of dosing the bees with drugs, forcing them into unnaturally early springs, transporting them around the country, feeding them with cheap corn syrup instead of their own honey – these things are not making the situation better. Neither is monocropping.
The politics of beekeeping is really eye-opening. Beekeepers are a dying breed, and agriculture as it is practiced today couldn't exist without them. You don't have to be especially interested in bees to find this book very informative. If you eat, their lives affect your life more than you probably know.
There were a couple of places in the book where the writing seemed a touch dry to me. Statements like “in the wild, honey bees have disappeared entirely” made me wish for footnotes and a bibliography, although the statement was explained later in the book. As was “bees began bringing that nectar home to evaporate into honey....” Even in my ignorance, I knew that honey isn't just evaporated nectar, oh no, not anything that straightforward, burp.
The next time you are spreading that big ol' glop of honey on your English muffin, give thanks for the dozen bees who together spent their whole lives making just a teaspoon of the stuff.
Before humans intervened, before the days of agribusiness, bees left to their own devices had hard, short, and sometimes violent and vicious lives. Since we've started helping them, their lives are worse. And we owe them a huge debt of gratitude.
This fascinating book looks at the lives of bees and at one cantankerous commercial beekeeper, John Miller. It is no small irony that someone who “isn't fond of death,” who takes it personally is involved in death everyday; it is part of the business.
Like many, I had heard of CDC, Colony Collapse Disorder, that has wreaked havoc among bees and their keepers. What I didn't realize that CDC is only a part of the problem, that bees are susceptible to a whole host of fatal and really nasty diseases. And the solutions of dosing the bees with drugs, forcing them into unnaturally early springs, transporting them around the country, feeding them with cheap corn syrup instead of their own honey – these things are not making the situation better. Neither is monocropping.
The politics of beekeeping is really eye-opening. Beekeepers are a dying breed, and agriculture as it is practiced today couldn't exist without them. You don't have to be especially interested in bees to find this book very informative. If you eat, their lives affect your life more than you probably know.
There were a couple of places in the book where the writing seemed a touch dry to me. Statements like “in the wild, honey bees have disappeared entirely” made me wish for footnotes and a bibliography, although the statement was explained later in the book. As was “bees began bringing that nectar home to evaporate into honey....” Even in my ignorance, I knew that honey isn't just evaporated nectar, oh no, not anything that straightforward, burp.
The next time you are spreading that big ol' glop of honey on your English muffin, give thanks for the dozen bees who together spent their whole lives making just a teaspoon of the stuff.
August 6, 2011
The Beekeeper’s Lament: How One Man and Half a Million Honey Bees Help Feed America by Hannah Nordhaus
Published by Harper Perennial, this nonfiction work is altogether fascinating and thought-provoking. Part artform, part science, beekeeping is certainly one of the most difficult industries. To choose such an unsteady livelihood in order to produce honey and pollinate a vast majority of the foods Americans eat is certainly a career that deserves respect.
And yet, most beekeepers must find creative ways to sustain their businesses. People love honey. Bees? Not so much. At least, not when you consider the varied ways industrialized farming practices and ever-expanding suburban sprawl have made the art of beekeeping more and more arduous each year.
In this work, Nordhaus follows the lives of several weathered beekeepers attempting to sustain their businesses. Despite their experience — in many cases the beekeeping business is handed down within a family for generations — these men and women are now facing issues their fathers and grandfathers never had to deal with.
Here are some fascinating things I did not know about beekeeping, bees and honey that I gleaned while reading this book:
A honey bee queen can lay up to 3,000 eggs (male and female) per day at her productive peak.
One honey bee will produce, on average, one-twelfth of a teaspoon of clover honey – which is by far one of the most sought-after due to it’s fragrance and pleasing taste.
Honey, like wine, gets better with age.
China was recently caught exporting honey with toxic pesticides and antibiotics. A 2002 ban was put in place to keep Chinese product from reaching American consumers, but since the ban, other countries, such as Australia, India, Malaysia, Thailand, Russia, Indonesia and Taiwan have increased their exportation of honey. All of these countries are believed to be shipping Chinese product to America and Canada. It is generally assumed that roughly 50% of the imported honey in America comes from Chinese apiaries.
A trick for testing the purity of honey (as opposed to honey that has been adulterated with water or high-fructose corn syrup):
Good honey flows from the knife in a straight stream, forming a bead as it lands on a surface. Should the cascade break into separate drops, a second stream of honey will temporarily sit on top of the older bead, forming a layer. If the honey has too much water, it will break into droplets as it falls, pooling as it hits bottom without taking form. Good honey never separates in the jar.
California almond farmers grow roughly 80% of the almonds sold world-wide and because almond trees do not self-pollinate, these farmers rely on beekeepers to transport their hives to almond farms in order to raise their crop.
Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD), rampant pesticide use, changes in weather, suburban sprawl, varroa mites and other parasites have recently led to a very staggering realization — something is happening to honey bees not only nationwide, but worldwide. Beekeepers and scientists alike are trying to get to the bottom of this matter through various scientific methods such as genetic testing, honey pollen sampling (Melissopalynology) and geographical mapping of pesticide use and parasite outbreaks.
There are several types of honey bees within North America. Recently the European honey bee, a mild-tempered bee has been mating (within labs and in the wild) with the African honey bee, which is an ill-tempered insect, much more likely to sting humans. However, the African and Asian honey bees have, in comparison with the European bee, fared better through CCD outbreaks.
In addition, Nordhaus has made an attempt to weave within the statistical analysis and scientific jargon moments of honestly written poems, prose and fleeting thoughts, crafted not only by herself, but by one of the beekeepers with whom she studies. Here is a passage by Nordhaus:
But on that luminous and bittersweet August weekend, it was, perhaps, hard to let go just yet. We cleave to the way things are, not only to hold back a chaotic future, and not only because that is what we know. Gackle is a testament to the value of sheer persistence. There is value in returning to the one who loves you, in keeping the family farm going, in living where you grew up, in keeping bees when no amount of common sense and economic self-preservation can justify it. The colony may be collapsing in North Dakota, but not everyone is flying off. There is value, yes, and there is dogged romance in persistence.
Regardless of your feelings on the sometimes offensive insect (for anyone who has been stung, you’ll know what I mean), one thing is certain, you will never eat honey the same way again. In reading this book, you will gain knowledge of all that goes into producing those amber-colored plastic bears — and a greater respect for those stinging insects.
For more book reviews, please visit www.theornamentedline.wordpress.com.
Published by Harper Perennial, this nonfiction work is altogether fascinating and thought-provoking. Part artform, part science, beekeeping is certainly one of the most difficult industries. To choose such an unsteady livelihood in order to produce honey and pollinate a vast majority of the foods Americans eat is certainly a career that deserves respect.
And yet, most beekeepers must find creative ways to sustain their businesses. People love honey. Bees? Not so much. At least, not when you consider the varied ways industrialized farming practices and ever-expanding suburban sprawl have made the art of beekeeping more and more arduous each year.
In this work, Nordhaus follows the lives of several weathered beekeepers attempting to sustain their businesses. Despite their experience — in many cases the beekeeping business is handed down within a family for generations — these men and women are now facing issues their fathers and grandfathers never had to deal with.
Here are some fascinating things I did not know about beekeeping, bees and honey that I gleaned while reading this book:
A honey bee queen can lay up to 3,000 eggs (male and female) per day at her productive peak.
One honey bee will produce, on average, one-twelfth of a teaspoon of clover honey – which is by far one of the most sought-after due to it’s fragrance and pleasing taste.
Honey, like wine, gets better with age.
China was recently caught exporting honey with toxic pesticides and antibiotics. A 2002 ban was put in place to keep Chinese product from reaching American consumers, but since the ban, other countries, such as Australia, India, Malaysia, Thailand, Russia, Indonesia and Taiwan have increased their exportation of honey. All of these countries are believed to be shipping Chinese product to America and Canada. It is generally assumed that roughly 50% of the imported honey in America comes from Chinese apiaries.
A trick for testing the purity of honey (as opposed to honey that has been adulterated with water or high-fructose corn syrup):
Good honey flows from the knife in a straight stream, forming a bead as it lands on a surface. Should the cascade break into separate drops, a second stream of honey will temporarily sit on top of the older bead, forming a layer. If the honey has too much water, it will break into droplets as it falls, pooling as it hits bottom without taking form. Good honey never separates in the jar.
California almond farmers grow roughly 80% of the almonds sold world-wide and because almond trees do not self-pollinate, these farmers rely on beekeepers to transport their hives to almond farms in order to raise their crop.
Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD), rampant pesticide use, changes in weather, suburban sprawl, varroa mites and other parasites have recently led to a very staggering realization — something is happening to honey bees not only nationwide, but worldwide. Beekeepers and scientists alike are trying to get to the bottom of this matter through various scientific methods such as genetic testing, honey pollen sampling (Melissopalynology) and geographical mapping of pesticide use and parasite outbreaks.
There are several types of honey bees within North America. Recently the European honey bee, a mild-tempered bee has been mating (within labs and in the wild) with the African honey bee, which is an ill-tempered insect, much more likely to sting humans. However, the African and Asian honey bees have, in comparison with the European bee, fared better through CCD outbreaks.
In addition, Nordhaus has made an attempt to weave within the statistical analysis and scientific jargon moments of honestly written poems, prose and fleeting thoughts, crafted not only by herself, but by one of the beekeepers with whom she studies. Here is a passage by Nordhaus:
But on that luminous and bittersweet August weekend, it was, perhaps, hard to let go just yet. We cleave to the way things are, not only to hold back a chaotic future, and not only because that is what we know. Gackle is a testament to the value of sheer persistence. There is value in returning to the one who loves you, in keeping the family farm going, in living where you grew up, in keeping bees when no amount of common sense and economic self-preservation can justify it. The colony may be collapsing in North Dakota, but not everyone is flying off. There is value, yes, and there is dogged romance in persistence.
Regardless of your feelings on the sometimes offensive insect (for anyone who has been stung, you’ll know what I mean), one thing is certain, you will never eat honey the same way again. In reading this book, you will gain knowledge of all that goes into producing those amber-colored plastic bears — and a greater respect for those stinging insects.
For more book reviews, please visit www.theornamentedline.wordpress.com.
July 3, 2019
This is Nonfiction Environmental-Science about the plight of bees and the things beekeeper's do to keep them alive. First, let me just say, I listened to the audio and I didn't care for the narrator at all. She had a nonchalance to her voice and absolutely NO passion for the subject. It felt like the book was just words to her.
Other than that, this was interesting to see the lengths that beekeepers go to in order to take care of their bees and to try to turn a profit. The profit part, by no means, sounds like a sure thing. But with these beekeepers, it isn't always about the money, but the love and dedication they have for the bees and the profession.
Other than that, this was interesting to see the lengths that beekeepers go to in order to take care of their bees and to try to turn a profit. The profit part, by no means, sounds like a sure thing. But with these beekeepers, it isn't always about the money, but the love and dedication they have for the bees and the profession.
May 15, 2018
Primarily a profile of John Miller, a prominent beekeeper who produces a huge amount of America’s honey (he owns literally billions of bees).
Also gives you a good glimpse into the complex social and biological lives of bees, and looks briefly into Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD). Two potential causes:
(1) Israeli Acute Paralysis Virus, or IAPV, which is carried on RNA, kind of like AIDS in humans. IAPV is correlated strongly (like, 90%) with CCD, though nobody can say for sure it’s the cause. It could be a symptom, or a coincidence.
(2) Could also be Nosema ceranae, a new fungus from Asia. It’s related to nosema apis (a common fungus that’s been around for a while and doesn’t cause massive bee loss on the same scale as its relative) and probably works by increasing toxicity of pesticides.
I also found this super interesting: “The insect kingdom enjoys little cell repair. Humans relate poorly to this truth. If a bee is sick, she doesn’t get better. If she breaks a leg, it doesn’t heal. If she ruptures her exoskeletal protection, she dries out and dies. If her wings are too warm to fly, she dies.”
I listened to on audiobook, and I swear to God I fell a little in love with the voice that reads it. It’s so evocative and emotionally charged when she says things like this poignant passage:
“Amid all this chaos, the queen sits like a rockstar in a moshpit, laying eggs, encircled by fawning workers attending to her every need. That’s what a healthy hive looks like.
But when a colony collapses, when the population dwindles, when the incubating larvae get too cold, when the workers expire in a huddled, fluttering mass inside the hive, or crawl out the entrances to die away from home, and when the queen finally dies too . . . then it is an entirely different scene.
Scattered, disheartened survivors, plundering robber bees and wax moths, filth and rot and ruin and invasion, and death creeping in, like a neighborhood abandoned to the junkies. And when that happens, the real tragedy is not simply the loss of the 60,000 or even 80,000 insignificant and perhaps soulless individuals— but of the future. That sort of loss is harder to comprehend.
The death of a hive is both mindnumbingly ordinary, and mindblowingly sad.”
Also gives you a good glimpse into the complex social and biological lives of bees, and looks briefly into Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD). Two potential causes:
(1) Israeli Acute Paralysis Virus, or IAPV, which is carried on RNA, kind of like AIDS in humans. IAPV is correlated strongly (like, 90%) with CCD, though nobody can say for sure it’s the cause. It could be a symptom, or a coincidence.
(2) Could also be Nosema ceranae, a new fungus from Asia. It’s related to nosema apis (a common fungus that’s been around for a while and doesn’t cause massive bee loss on the same scale as its relative) and probably works by increasing toxicity of pesticides.
I also found this super interesting: “The insect kingdom enjoys little cell repair. Humans relate poorly to this truth. If a bee is sick, she doesn’t get better. If she breaks a leg, it doesn’t heal. If she ruptures her exoskeletal protection, she dries out and dies. If her wings are too warm to fly, she dies.”
I listened to on audiobook, and I swear to God I fell a little in love with the voice that reads it. It’s so evocative and emotionally charged when she says things like this poignant passage:
“Amid all this chaos, the queen sits like a rockstar in a moshpit, laying eggs, encircled by fawning workers attending to her every need. That’s what a healthy hive looks like.
But when a colony collapses, when the population dwindles, when the incubating larvae get too cold, when the workers expire in a huddled, fluttering mass inside the hive, or crawl out the entrances to die away from home, and when the queen finally dies too . . . then it is an entirely different scene.
Scattered, disheartened survivors, plundering robber bees and wax moths, filth and rot and ruin and invasion, and death creeping in, like a neighborhood abandoned to the junkies. And when that happens, the real tragedy is not simply the loss of the 60,000 or even 80,000 insignificant and perhaps soulless individuals— but of the future. That sort of loss is harder to comprehend.
The death of a hive is both mindnumbingly ordinary, and mindblowingly sad.”
September 26, 2014
It took me a long time to get through this narrative. When I started, I knew we had problems with our nation's bee population and so I thought it would be good to learn more about beekeepers and how they are coping. I am not sure if it was Nordhaus' writing or when I was reading this, but I just couldn't keep my focus on this book.
I learned a lot. I had no idea how important bees are to almond trees and it never occurred to me that people moved bee hives all around the country. I am alarmed at all the problems with mites and diseases that bees have. It is especially scary because so much food is dependent on pollination by bees. So for all that I learned, I give Nordhaus three stars.
I also liked meeting John Miller, the beekeeper who is the focus of the book. It is good to meet people through their stories that I would never encounter in my own narrow life. There are so many people in the world doing jobs I can't even imagine.
I think Nordhaus' explanation of our national bee dilemma would have been stronger as an essay in The New Yorker or another magazine. It would have been tighter, more concise and her argument may have had more force.
I learned a lot. I had no idea how important bees are to almond trees and it never occurred to me that people moved bee hives all around the country. I am alarmed at all the problems with mites and diseases that bees have. It is especially scary because so much food is dependent on pollination by bees. So for all that I learned, I give Nordhaus three stars.
I also liked meeting John Miller, the beekeeper who is the focus of the book. It is good to meet people through their stories that I would never encounter in my own narrow life. There are so many people in the world doing jobs I can't even imagine.
I think Nordhaus' explanation of our national bee dilemma would have been stronger as an essay in The New Yorker or another magazine. It would have been tighter, more concise and her argument may have had more force.
April 24, 2018
A terrific book for anyone who has questions about the demise of the honey bee! Layman or Apiarist you will enjoy the well researched and humor injected narrative. I learned so much and it never felt like I was learning.
February 24, 2019
Bees pollinate plants that produce about a third of America's food supply, and while once the bees mostly were wild "volunteers," the European honeybee, the most reliable pollinator in North America, is largely gone from the wild. Agriculture relies on professional, commercial beekeepers, who travel with their hives to the fields and orchards that need them
It's useful to remember that the honeybee was never native here anyway. It came with the Europeans. The single most profitable crop that it pollinates is California's almond crop, which is also not native to North America. It's native to the Middle East and southern Asia.
The almond is booming in the US. The honeybee is in trouble, and both dependent on and threatened by the increasing dominance of the almond crop in its life cycle.
John Miller, a beekeeper with a large and, by beekeeper standards, pretty successful business, from a family with four generations of beekeeping history, is the primary focus of this book, but not by any means the only beekeeper we learn about.
We tend to think of beekeeping being about honey, but because of both imported honey, and a lack of any agreed or enforced standards for either purity or labeling, honey is not where beekeepers make their money. Profit in beekeeping comes from the migratory pollenization business--and increasingly primarily from almond pollenization. Pollenization of other other crops is increasingly marginal, with a primary benefit keeping the hives fed and healthy. In some cases, it produces good honey, but often the best honey comes from plants that are regarded as invasive weeds More useful crops may or may not produce honey that's good for anyone but the bees.
Some very useful crops produce honey that even the bees don't want, if they can reach other plants than the ones they've been brought in to pollinate.
And on top of all that, are all the bad things that can happen to bees and their hives. Colony Collapse Disorder made headlines a few years ago. The headlines have faded, but the cause hasn't been identified, and colony collapse still happens. In addition, there are a lot of parasites and diseases that can damage or completely wipe out hives. There is constant research to protect the bees, but often as one parasite or disease is defeated, another appears.
Oh, and there are different varieties of bees, some better pollinators and some worse, some forming larger hives and some smaller, some Africanized honey bees. Or, as the Africanized bees are colloquially known, "killer bees."
The Africanized bees are not as aggressive as their reputation, and may become less so as they continue to hybridize with the European varieties in North America, but they are sufficiently more aggressive that American beekeepers are not eager to adopt them. They are, though, good pollinators, and make good honey, and are more resistant to some threats than European honey bees.
On the other hand, they are less cold hardy, which is a major problem in more northerly regions. They can't get through a northern winter in a protected cellar with a good supply of honey or corn syrup.
Beekeepers are always hoping next year will be a good year.
Beekeeping, its history in North America, and its realities today are fascinating and complex, and well worth a listen, or a read.
Recommended.
I bought this audiobook.
It's useful to remember that the honeybee was never native here anyway. It came with the Europeans. The single most profitable crop that it pollinates is California's almond crop, which is also not native to North America. It's native to the Middle East and southern Asia.
The almond is booming in the US. The honeybee is in trouble, and both dependent on and threatened by the increasing dominance of the almond crop in its life cycle.
John Miller, a beekeeper with a large and, by beekeeper standards, pretty successful business, from a family with four generations of beekeeping history, is the primary focus of this book, but not by any means the only beekeeper we learn about.
We tend to think of beekeeping being about honey, but because of both imported honey, and a lack of any agreed or enforced standards for either purity or labeling, honey is not where beekeepers make their money. Profit in beekeeping comes from the migratory pollenization business--and increasingly primarily from almond pollenization. Pollenization of other other crops is increasingly marginal, with a primary benefit keeping the hives fed and healthy. In some cases, it produces good honey, but often the best honey comes from plants that are regarded as invasive weeds More useful crops may or may not produce honey that's good for anyone but the bees.
Some very useful crops produce honey that even the bees don't want, if they can reach other plants than the ones they've been brought in to pollinate.
And on top of all that, are all the bad things that can happen to bees and their hives. Colony Collapse Disorder made headlines a few years ago. The headlines have faded, but the cause hasn't been identified, and colony collapse still happens. In addition, there are a lot of parasites and diseases that can damage or completely wipe out hives. There is constant research to protect the bees, but often as one parasite or disease is defeated, another appears.
Oh, and there are different varieties of bees, some better pollinators and some worse, some forming larger hives and some smaller, some Africanized honey bees. Or, as the Africanized bees are colloquially known, "killer bees."
The Africanized bees are not as aggressive as their reputation, and may become less so as they continue to hybridize with the European varieties in North America, but they are sufficiently more aggressive that American beekeepers are not eager to adopt them. They are, though, good pollinators, and make good honey, and are more resistant to some threats than European honey bees.
On the other hand, they are less cold hardy, which is a major problem in more northerly regions. They can't get through a northern winter in a protected cellar with a good supply of honey or corn syrup.
Beekeepers are always hoping next year will be a good year.
Beekeeping, its history in North America, and its realities today are fascinating and complex, and well worth a listen, or a read.
Recommended.
I bought this audiobook.
July 12, 2018
Sometimes non-fiction writing can be poetry on the tongue, and this one is as honey sweet as facts can get. This book is a fine mix of the good news and bad of the history of beekeeping. Sometimes I felt profound sadness for the bees and the multiple disorders, and yet remained hopeful for the potential outcomes for our necessary friends. It made me want to finally purchase some bees and learn the art of apiary.
September 11, 2018
An interesting read but I wasn’t a huge fan of the author.
January 27, 2020
As befits one who seeks to be a man of wealth and taste (if I have to choose between them, the former), I aspire to live on a vast estate, leading the life of a gentleman farmer. That doesn’t seem to be the immediate future, but we do have enough land to keep some chickens and grow some apples. This year, we are planning to add some honeybees, so I figured I should educate myself before taking the first concrete steps. "The Beekeeper’s Lament," a 2010 book by Hannah Nordhaus, which combines talk of bees and beekeeping with modest philosophy about both, seemed like a good place to start. I was not disappointed—I learned a lot, and I also found food for thought about modern agricultural and eating practices.
Nordhaus weaves together three threads: the occupation of commercial beekeeper, the agricultural industries that modern beekeeping largely exists to support, and the biology of bees (including, at the end, information about what most people are most interested in, honey). As part of this project, I have, so far, also read two other books, the lightweight, but not worthless, "Keeping Bees with Ashley English," and a hyper-technical work, "The Beekeeper’s Handbook." Others are in the mail; I’m a big believer in getting book knowledge before embarking on getting practical knowledge. My wife and I are also taking a daylong class from the local beekeeper’s association. From all these things, I figure we should be able to start our project without screwing up too badly, so I am not very worried about our own beekeeping, though doubtless there will be challenges.
I think beekeeping is something both liberals and conservatives can get behind. Not corporatist, globalist Republicans and Democrats, though—they no doubt think we should all stick to our comparative advantages, and buy only cheap honey cut with corn syrup from Wuhan, using cash earned from slaving away at some soul-sucking job that adds no actual value to society, thereby maximizing global GDP, the Omega Point of humanity. Other than for such morons, though, preserving nature, eating healthy, and better grasping our place in the natural world should all be apolitical, even in these days of overpoliticization.
The focus of the book is a North Dakota-based commercial beekeeper named John Miller, a Mormon whose grandfather, Nephi Ephraim Miller, started the family tradition of beekeeping, and also invented migratory beekeeping, where bees are moved to follow flowers as they bloom. He was a smart man; among other wisdom he passed down was “A successful manager watches all details because the honey business is a detail business if success is to be obtained.” Daymond John would agree. Nordhaus originally wrote a magazine article centered on Miller, and later expanded it into this book. While other beekeepers appear (like all American agriculture, it is an industry with ever-fewer, but larger-scale, participants), Miller is used as an exemplar for the type—in short, mostly men with somewhat difficult personalities, who like to do things as they want to do them, and who are in it less for the money, though it is a business, than because it’s what they want to do.
The reader learns a great deal about bees, in particular how variable their output can be, depending not only on what flowers they take nectar from, but also weather, disease, competition, and so forth. Until the nineteenth century, beekeeping was a marginal business, done as a sideline by some farmers. Much honey was collected from wild swarms, not farmed. Modern beekeeping dates from Lorenzo Langstroth, a Massachusetts beekeeper born in 1810. It was he who designed the removable frame system for bees with which we are all familiar, recognizing after intensive study that a gap of 3/8 inch between frames ensured the bees would not fill the gap with new comb. Before that, skeps (conical hives, typically made of straw) were used, but those did not permit viewing the bees, and had to be destroyed to harvest honey, thus making beekeeping a mostly unprofitable business. Modern hives are basically unchanged from Langstroth’s original—his design cannot really be improved upon, at least for commercial beekeeping (although home beekeepers can select among various modern designs that, at higher cost, allow easy honey extraction, which is something I may use). Langstroth’s goal was to make it possible to keep bees as “a branch of the rural economy,” and he succeeded beyond his expectations. Nordhaus extensively quotes him, and I have ordered an annotated copy of his classic work, still in print, "The Hive and the Honey Bee."
Miller is based in North Dakota (from his website, his large operation is still operating in 2020), but he, as nearly all commercial beekeepers today, trucks his bees across the country to earn money by pollinating crops. The majority of target crops are in California, thus, the center of gravity in this book is California, and in particular, the almond industry in California, since that is what makes the entire modern beekeeping industry a viable business. Because of foreign competition in honey, mostly Chinese, an American beekeeper cannot turn a profit without also renting out his bees as pollinators. In fact, pollination earns most of the money, and the honey is a side business.
California produces eighty-two percent of the world’s almonds, and almonds are eleven percent of California’s agricultural output (although, contrary to general belief, agriculture is only a small percentage of California’s GDP). In 2010, the crop was 1.5 billion pounds; now it’s 2.3 billion. This sounds good; who doesn’t like almonds (I’m particularly partial to marzipan, myself)? But, like all modern farming of both crops and animals, the almond industry is entirely artificial and hugely destructive of the natural landscape. Almonds require very specific growing conditions, and several hundred square miles in central California are ideal, as long as massive quantities of water can be supplied by irrigation. And growing them in this way is very profitable. No surprise, for several decades, more and more land has gone to planting regimented lines of almond trees. But, as Nordhaus says, it is not bucolic. “The valley smells like a brew of fertilizer, chemicals, and manure.” This is an industrial operation.
It is pollination of almonds that requires bees to be imported by the billions. In a normal ecosystem, local insects and birds pollinate local plants. But almond trees require very intensive pollination—unlike most plants, the more pollination they get the more they yield. All the local insects and birds that might pollinate have either been killed by herbicides and pesticides or driven away by habitat destruction. Thus, this artificial landscape requires an artificial solution to pollination—trucking in bees every spring. This is how John Miller earns his living, and around this activity Nordhaus discusses the mechanics of keeping bees, everything from getting stung to bee breeding to, most critically, bee pathologies, including what we have all heard of, Colony Collapse Disorder.
But before we get to more about bees, let’s talk about almonds. Obviously, like all modern agriculture, the almond industry is driven by economies of scale. But that does not answer the key question—to what end do we need economies of scale? The glib answer is in order to get more efficient production, and therefore cheaper goods (or, in some cases, more monopoly profits, but that is not at issue here). But what are the benefits of cheaper food? At one extreme, it prevents starvation or malnutrition, which is good. At the other, it permits fat people to gorge themselves while still having extra money to lead empty consumerist lives. It’s pretty clear that the almond industry, and American agriculture as a whole, is very much on the latter side of the scale. Nobody is starving here, and malnourishment is by choice (it may be true that some children go to bed hungry, but that’s because they have crappy parents, not some failure in the rest of America). When I was young, almonds (and all tree nuts) were a delicacy. Now, due to economies of scale, I can get five pounds for ten dollars. Is this an improvement? No, for the only upside is the ability to consume large quantities of what used to be luxuries. For the most part, this is just a form of gluttony, which is a vice that erodes moral fiber.
And that’s ignoring the direct costs, which are huge, but often hidden or glossed over. As we’ll see, migratory beekeeping is probably one cause of Colony Collapse Disorder. But there are other, more direct costs to our society resulting from industrial farming. For example, it’s increasingly evident that massive use of chemical pesticides is a bad idea. I have elsewhere extolled Norman Borlaug and the Green Revolution, but let’s not forget, that was not about using chemicals but producing better hybrids. We’re told that pesticides are safe, but an awful lot of them I’m familiar with from the early 1990s (when I worked summers in a university entomology department that offered services to farmers) are now banned, though we were assured back then they were totally safe. Today, drenching millions of acres, not just crops but lawns and golf courses, in atrazine, a known endocrine disruptor that kills many amphibians, seems like a bad idea. Might the fifty percent drop in human sperm counts, and the general feminization of Western men, have something to do with that? We’re not supposed to talk about it, though, just like all the other things our corporatist overlords don’t want us talking about, such as mass immigration and the destruction of the family by compelling women to work to fund a consumerist lifestyle. What all these things have in common is that a slice of the ruling class profits while the rest of society suffers, but is told it’s OK, because the plebs can now buy more food, trinkets, and enervating, emasculating entertainment. Almonds are merely one example of this stupid system.
These direct costs are tied to increased risks that impose no costs until they do. For example, both modern apiculture and modern agriculture rely very heavily on the creation of monocultures. In bees, queens are bred for specific characteristics, which means genetic variance is sharply reduced (exacerbated by the destruction of wild bees, which we’ll get to later). Monoculture in crops is even more extreme; we’re just waiting for the next plant plague (so far, we’ve beat down several). Again, creating fragility in food production so we can stuff our faces for cheap today is no way to run a responsible society.
The same basic system, with even more moral component, exists in factory farming of animals. Why should billions of chickens, pigs, and cows suffer so Fatty McFatty can eat two half-pound burgers at a sitting, with a giant side of fries cooked in soybean oil (recently found to cause neurological damage, at least in mice), washed down with a Big Gulp made sickly sweet by high fructose corn syrup? No good reason I can fathom. All in all, I think food should be more expensive, at a minimum reflecting in its cost the externalities it imposes, and, in many cases, by forbidding imports to compete with American production, which would have the extra benefit of making sure America isn’t overly dependent for staples on others (though I think we are not generally much dependent on others for true staples).
The counter-argument usually offered relies on the myth that it is expensive to eat healthy, so making food more expensive would harm the poor. This is a total falsehood, on display in the popular 2009 documentary Food, Inc. There, a four-person family in California seeks their dinner. An obese father and mother drive their two daughters around, one about sixteen and normal, the other about twelve and morbidly obese. Their dinner is six sandwiches and three drinks (no fries, which seems unlikely), for $11.48. They realize full well that eating like this is unhealthy, and offer ever-shifting excuses instead of what is clearly the real reason—fast food tastes good, because it’s engineered to appeal to human addictions (which is one of the main points of the documentary). The parents say they only have a dollar to spend per person, but they spend more than $2 per person on a meal (and if ordering as their body size makes it clear they normally eat, they would probably spend more like $5 or $6). They claim, “We don’t have time to cook,” because they work fifteen hours a day—but both children are clearly capable of cooking by themselves for the whole family. They then go to the grocery store. “Look at the broccoli. Too expensive, man.” It’s $1.29 a pound. They say pears are also too expensive, even though the younger daughter wants some. They’re ninety-nine cents a pound; you could buy seven for the cost of one of the burgers. The simple reality is that this family could save a large amount of money, and help the father’s Type II diabetes, by cooking simply at home. But they don’t want to do it. If, though, each burger cost five dollars, as they should, they would. The current system is topsy-turvy and benefits nobody—except our noxious neoliberal overlords.
Those who profit from this aren’t local farmers, for the most part. True, almond farming seems to still be largely a profitable family enterprise. But Gackle, North Dakota, Miller’s home base, is dying like most of the small towns of the Northern Plains. Agricultural profits go to giant corporations, which further goose their profit by importing cheap, compliant labor from across our southern border. The effect is to destroy the invisible webs of our society. It is true, no doubt, that all mighty civilizations are built around cities (leaving aside whether ours qualify as centers of civilization any longer). But that must be balanced by power and prestige existing in the provinces, and a thriving working class in smaller towns and villages. Over-centralization of power leads to neither a humane nor a successful society, but organizing agriculture for economies of scale creates exactly that centralization, even though the land being worked is far from the halls of power—because to the cities is where the money generated goes. This is a big part of why we are now ruled by corrosive coastal elites, whereas in the past power was distributed across the country.
And, back to bees, . . . [review completes as first comment].
Nordhaus weaves together three threads: the occupation of commercial beekeeper, the agricultural industries that modern beekeeping largely exists to support, and the biology of bees (including, at the end, information about what most people are most interested in, honey). As part of this project, I have, so far, also read two other books, the lightweight, but not worthless, "Keeping Bees with Ashley English," and a hyper-technical work, "The Beekeeper’s Handbook." Others are in the mail; I’m a big believer in getting book knowledge before embarking on getting practical knowledge. My wife and I are also taking a daylong class from the local beekeeper’s association. From all these things, I figure we should be able to start our project without screwing up too badly, so I am not very worried about our own beekeeping, though doubtless there will be challenges.
I think beekeeping is something both liberals and conservatives can get behind. Not corporatist, globalist Republicans and Democrats, though—they no doubt think we should all stick to our comparative advantages, and buy only cheap honey cut with corn syrup from Wuhan, using cash earned from slaving away at some soul-sucking job that adds no actual value to society, thereby maximizing global GDP, the Omega Point of humanity. Other than for such morons, though, preserving nature, eating healthy, and better grasping our place in the natural world should all be apolitical, even in these days of overpoliticization.
The focus of the book is a North Dakota-based commercial beekeeper named John Miller, a Mormon whose grandfather, Nephi Ephraim Miller, started the family tradition of beekeeping, and also invented migratory beekeeping, where bees are moved to follow flowers as they bloom. He was a smart man; among other wisdom he passed down was “A successful manager watches all details because the honey business is a detail business if success is to be obtained.” Daymond John would agree. Nordhaus originally wrote a magazine article centered on Miller, and later expanded it into this book. While other beekeepers appear (like all American agriculture, it is an industry with ever-fewer, but larger-scale, participants), Miller is used as an exemplar for the type—in short, mostly men with somewhat difficult personalities, who like to do things as they want to do them, and who are in it less for the money, though it is a business, than because it’s what they want to do.
The reader learns a great deal about bees, in particular how variable their output can be, depending not only on what flowers they take nectar from, but also weather, disease, competition, and so forth. Until the nineteenth century, beekeeping was a marginal business, done as a sideline by some farmers. Much honey was collected from wild swarms, not farmed. Modern beekeeping dates from Lorenzo Langstroth, a Massachusetts beekeeper born in 1810. It was he who designed the removable frame system for bees with which we are all familiar, recognizing after intensive study that a gap of 3/8 inch between frames ensured the bees would not fill the gap with new comb. Before that, skeps (conical hives, typically made of straw) were used, but those did not permit viewing the bees, and had to be destroyed to harvest honey, thus making beekeeping a mostly unprofitable business. Modern hives are basically unchanged from Langstroth’s original—his design cannot really be improved upon, at least for commercial beekeeping (although home beekeepers can select among various modern designs that, at higher cost, allow easy honey extraction, which is something I may use). Langstroth’s goal was to make it possible to keep bees as “a branch of the rural economy,” and he succeeded beyond his expectations. Nordhaus extensively quotes him, and I have ordered an annotated copy of his classic work, still in print, "The Hive and the Honey Bee."
Miller is based in North Dakota (from his website, his large operation is still operating in 2020), but he, as nearly all commercial beekeepers today, trucks his bees across the country to earn money by pollinating crops. The majority of target crops are in California, thus, the center of gravity in this book is California, and in particular, the almond industry in California, since that is what makes the entire modern beekeeping industry a viable business. Because of foreign competition in honey, mostly Chinese, an American beekeeper cannot turn a profit without also renting out his bees as pollinators. In fact, pollination earns most of the money, and the honey is a side business.
California produces eighty-two percent of the world’s almonds, and almonds are eleven percent of California’s agricultural output (although, contrary to general belief, agriculture is only a small percentage of California’s GDP). In 2010, the crop was 1.5 billion pounds; now it’s 2.3 billion. This sounds good; who doesn’t like almonds (I’m particularly partial to marzipan, myself)? But, like all modern farming of both crops and animals, the almond industry is entirely artificial and hugely destructive of the natural landscape. Almonds require very specific growing conditions, and several hundred square miles in central California are ideal, as long as massive quantities of water can be supplied by irrigation. And growing them in this way is very profitable. No surprise, for several decades, more and more land has gone to planting regimented lines of almond trees. But, as Nordhaus says, it is not bucolic. “The valley smells like a brew of fertilizer, chemicals, and manure.” This is an industrial operation.
It is pollination of almonds that requires bees to be imported by the billions. In a normal ecosystem, local insects and birds pollinate local plants. But almond trees require very intensive pollination—unlike most plants, the more pollination they get the more they yield. All the local insects and birds that might pollinate have either been killed by herbicides and pesticides or driven away by habitat destruction. Thus, this artificial landscape requires an artificial solution to pollination—trucking in bees every spring. This is how John Miller earns his living, and around this activity Nordhaus discusses the mechanics of keeping bees, everything from getting stung to bee breeding to, most critically, bee pathologies, including what we have all heard of, Colony Collapse Disorder.
But before we get to more about bees, let’s talk about almonds. Obviously, like all modern agriculture, the almond industry is driven by economies of scale. But that does not answer the key question—to what end do we need economies of scale? The glib answer is in order to get more efficient production, and therefore cheaper goods (or, in some cases, more monopoly profits, but that is not at issue here). But what are the benefits of cheaper food? At one extreme, it prevents starvation or malnutrition, which is good. At the other, it permits fat people to gorge themselves while still having extra money to lead empty consumerist lives. It’s pretty clear that the almond industry, and American agriculture as a whole, is very much on the latter side of the scale. Nobody is starving here, and malnourishment is by choice (it may be true that some children go to bed hungry, but that’s because they have crappy parents, not some failure in the rest of America). When I was young, almonds (and all tree nuts) were a delicacy. Now, due to economies of scale, I can get five pounds for ten dollars. Is this an improvement? No, for the only upside is the ability to consume large quantities of what used to be luxuries. For the most part, this is just a form of gluttony, which is a vice that erodes moral fiber.
And that’s ignoring the direct costs, which are huge, but often hidden or glossed over. As we’ll see, migratory beekeeping is probably one cause of Colony Collapse Disorder. But there are other, more direct costs to our society resulting from industrial farming. For example, it’s increasingly evident that massive use of chemical pesticides is a bad idea. I have elsewhere extolled Norman Borlaug and the Green Revolution, but let’s not forget, that was not about using chemicals but producing better hybrids. We’re told that pesticides are safe, but an awful lot of them I’m familiar with from the early 1990s (when I worked summers in a university entomology department that offered services to farmers) are now banned, though we were assured back then they were totally safe. Today, drenching millions of acres, not just crops but lawns and golf courses, in atrazine, a known endocrine disruptor that kills many amphibians, seems like a bad idea. Might the fifty percent drop in human sperm counts, and the general feminization of Western men, have something to do with that? We’re not supposed to talk about it, though, just like all the other things our corporatist overlords don’t want us talking about, such as mass immigration and the destruction of the family by compelling women to work to fund a consumerist lifestyle. What all these things have in common is that a slice of the ruling class profits while the rest of society suffers, but is told it’s OK, because the plebs can now buy more food, trinkets, and enervating, emasculating entertainment. Almonds are merely one example of this stupid system.
These direct costs are tied to increased risks that impose no costs until they do. For example, both modern apiculture and modern agriculture rely very heavily on the creation of monocultures. In bees, queens are bred for specific characteristics, which means genetic variance is sharply reduced (exacerbated by the destruction of wild bees, which we’ll get to later). Monoculture in crops is even more extreme; we’re just waiting for the next plant plague (so far, we’ve beat down several). Again, creating fragility in food production so we can stuff our faces for cheap today is no way to run a responsible society.
The same basic system, with even more moral component, exists in factory farming of animals. Why should billions of chickens, pigs, and cows suffer so Fatty McFatty can eat two half-pound burgers at a sitting, with a giant side of fries cooked in soybean oil (recently found to cause neurological damage, at least in mice), washed down with a Big Gulp made sickly sweet by high fructose corn syrup? No good reason I can fathom. All in all, I think food should be more expensive, at a minimum reflecting in its cost the externalities it imposes, and, in many cases, by forbidding imports to compete with American production, which would have the extra benefit of making sure America isn’t overly dependent for staples on others (though I think we are not generally much dependent on others for true staples).
The counter-argument usually offered relies on the myth that it is expensive to eat healthy, so making food more expensive would harm the poor. This is a total falsehood, on display in the popular 2009 documentary Food, Inc. There, a four-person family in California seeks their dinner. An obese father and mother drive their two daughters around, one about sixteen and normal, the other about twelve and morbidly obese. Their dinner is six sandwiches and three drinks (no fries, which seems unlikely), for $11.48. They realize full well that eating like this is unhealthy, and offer ever-shifting excuses instead of what is clearly the real reason—fast food tastes good, because it’s engineered to appeal to human addictions (which is one of the main points of the documentary). The parents say they only have a dollar to spend per person, but they spend more than $2 per person on a meal (and if ordering as their body size makes it clear they normally eat, they would probably spend more like $5 or $6). They claim, “We don’t have time to cook,” because they work fifteen hours a day—but both children are clearly capable of cooking by themselves for the whole family. They then go to the grocery store. “Look at the broccoli. Too expensive, man.” It’s $1.29 a pound. They say pears are also too expensive, even though the younger daughter wants some. They’re ninety-nine cents a pound; you could buy seven for the cost of one of the burgers. The simple reality is that this family could save a large amount of money, and help the father’s Type II diabetes, by cooking simply at home. But they don’t want to do it. If, though, each burger cost five dollars, as they should, they would. The current system is topsy-turvy and benefits nobody—except our noxious neoliberal overlords.
Those who profit from this aren’t local farmers, for the most part. True, almond farming seems to still be largely a profitable family enterprise. But Gackle, North Dakota, Miller’s home base, is dying like most of the small towns of the Northern Plains. Agricultural profits go to giant corporations, which further goose their profit by importing cheap, compliant labor from across our southern border. The effect is to destroy the invisible webs of our society. It is true, no doubt, that all mighty civilizations are built around cities (leaving aside whether ours qualify as centers of civilization any longer). But that must be balanced by power and prestige existing in the provinces, and a thriving working class in smaller towns and villages. Over-centralization of power leads to neither a humane nor a successful society, but organizing agriculture for economies of scale creates exactly that centralization, even though the land being worked is far from the halls of power—because to the cities is where the money generated goes. This is a big part of why we are now ruled by corrosive coastal elites, whereas in the past power was distributed across the country.
And, back to bees, . . . [review completes as first comment].
March 17, 2021
I have always appreciated bees. They are fascinating creatures. Everyone knows that bees are in trouble, but this book showed the extent that they are suffering, and the multitude of things that are hurting them-- mites, viruses, fungi, stress, diet, pesticides, modern monoculture farming practices, and on and on. It also highlighted the hard, dedicated life of a beekeeper. I learned a few new, disturbing things, like the fact that virtually all of America's feral bees have been wiped out in the wild-- I find that heartbreaking. I find the term "America's Bee Herd" adorable.
I have always wanted to get bees someday, but since I have a life-threatening allergy, my husband has vetoed that idea. Well, I guess I will cultivate a bee-friendly, organic garden and let a bit of my yard go wild. I buy local honey only. I even stopped buying almond milk a while ago because it is so water-intensive and destructive to the region of California it is grown in. Maybe my actions are small, and don't make an impact overall, but I figure if each of us did something, we would be helping out our bees and their keepers.
I have always wanted to get bees someday, but since I have a life-threatening allergy, my husband has vetoed that idea. Well, I guess I will cultivate a bee-friendly, organic garden and let a bit of my yard go wild. I buy local honey only. I even stopped buying almond milk a while ago because it is so water-intensive and destructive to the region of California it is grown in. Maybe my actions are small, and don't make an impact overall, but I figure if each of us did something, we would be helping out our bees and their keepers.
August 19, 2011
A few years ago I was reading bits and pieces about the mystery of the disappearing honeybee when it came up in the news, though as with most things the idea of yet another thing going horribly wrong just kind of overwhelmed me and I let it slide by lest my head explode…
Fast forward: upon reading a random article on beekeeping the other day and finding myself fascinated with the whole affair I decided it was time to pick up a few books on the creature. I really didn't think I'd enjoy this - admittedly I've read way too many books of the variety in which a journalist tags along and reports on someone's life and their role in the focal subject and I've been shying away from that style lately. But once Nordhaus sets the context of the primary beekeeper, John Miller, he is only drawn upon to supplement the wider story of bees and beekeeping (And with great effect. His term for the aggressive Africanized bee had me giggling - "behavior challenged bees", as I imagined the bees akin to toddlers running amok, in need of shots of ritalin (joke!!) and social skills classes…).
In fact, this is currently my favorite style of non-fiction book when I want to learn something while also hoping to really enjoy the subject. At first I was eager to read about JUST honeybee science and behavior but Nordhaus covers all angles expertly. She takes a broad scope, covering each topic just enough before transitioning into yet another fascinating aspect. Beekeeping history, science, the environmental politics surrounding pollination (monocropping, pesticides, the contracting of what in nature is a completely natural event) the difficult life of a beekeeper, bee health (or lack thereof), the recent scourge of the varroa mite (destroyed all feral bee colonies in the US), colony collapse disorder, honey types, means of quality identification and the lack of US government regulation and classification ("pure" honey may be up to 80 percent corn syrup).
In addition, the history of the bee is an example of how we meddle with and try to control nature for benefit and profit, only for it to backfire spectacularly. From bringing them over in the first place (they are not native to North America) to the effort by seedless citrus companies in California to institute bee "no-fly" zones as pollination results in seeded, "ruined" fruit. Efforts over the centuries to impregnate queen bees, from clamping the vagina open for insemination to crafting a tiny silver penis (I cringe, I cringe… and I can't help but be slightly affronted for the bee, whether in gender solidarity or the lengths they went through to accomplish this, I do not know..). Inbred varroa mite resistant drones that can head off infestations but suck at everything else a bee should do… Lawns, "green deserts", monocropping, and feeding bees corn syrup while robbing them of honey and the theorizing that the result is malnourished bees that are more likely to die en masse.
My semi-obsession with becoming a beekeeper may pass, but I'll certainly be paying more attention rather than vaguely deciding I like the flavor of clover honey over that of "desert bloom" honey. In addition, I'll never look at my endless tubes of Burt's Bees chapstick the same way again.
Fast forward: upon reading a random article on beekeeping the other day and finding myself fascinated with the whole affair I decided it was time to pick up a few books on the creature. I really didn't think I'd enjoy this - admittedly I've read way too many books of the variety in which a journalist tags along and reports on someone's life and their role in the focal subject and I've been shying away from that style lately. But once Nordhaus sets the context of the primary beekeeper, John Miller, he is only drawn upon to supplement the wider story of bees and beekeeping (And with great effect. His term for the aggressive Africanized bee had me giggling - "behavior challenged bees", as I imagined the bees akin to toddlers running amok, in need of shots of ritalin (joke!!) and social skills classes…).
In fact, this is currently my favorite style of non-fiction book when I want to learn something while also hoping to really enjoy the subject. At first I was eager to read about JUST honeybee science and behavior but Nordhaus covers all angles expertly. She takes a broad scope, covering each topic just enough before transitioning into yet another fascinating aspect. Beekeeping history, science, the environmental politics surrounding pollination (monocropping, pesticides, the contracting of what in nature is a completely natural event) the difficult life of a beekeeper, bee health (or lack thereof), the recent scourge of the varroa mite (destroyed all feral bee colonies in the US), colony collapse disorder, honey types, means of quality identification and the lack of US government regulation and classification ("pure" honey may be up to 80 percent corn syrup).
In addition, the history of the bee is an example of how we meddle with and try to control nature for benefit and profit, only for it to backfire spectacularly. From bringing them over in the first place (they are not native to North America) to the effort by seedless citrus companies in California to institute bee "no-fly" zones as pollination results in seeded, "ruined" fruit. Efforts over the centuries to impregnate queen bees, from clamping the vagina open for insemination to crafting a tiny silver penis (I cringe, I cringe… and I can't help but be slightly affronted for the bee, whether in gender solidarity or the lengths they went through to accomplish this, I do not know..). Inbred varroa mite resistant drones that can head off infestations but suck at everything else a bee should do… Lawns, "green deserts", monocropping, and feeding bees corn syrup while robbing them of honey and the theorizing that the result is malnourished bees that are more likely to die en masse.
My semi-obsession with becoming a beekeeper may pass, but I'll certainly be paying more attention rather than vaguely deciding I like the flavor of clover honey over that of "desert bloom" honey. In addition, I'll never look at my endless tubes of Burt's Bees chapstick the same way again.
February 1, 2015
It is always amazing to me that vast number of other "worlds" that are out there. We all get so engrossed in our own worlds that we often do not pay attention to the vast and intricate and interlocking other worlds that spin simultaneously around us. As I enjoy honey on my toast, I am now aware of a whole world of bees, their keepers, and the mass production of honey in the modern world. Hannah Nordhaus's portrayal of real world people is fascinating and incredibly well written.
If you want a glimpse into another world that is so important and close to our everyday lives, I really recommend that you delve into this book.
If you want a glimpse into another world that is so important and close to our everyday lives, I really recommend that you delve into this book.
January 2, 2018
Started off slow. But then became a fascinating look at every aspect of bees - genetics & history, hive design, behaviors, impact on food and people, commercialization & economic impact, beekeepers and other human advocates and all the various forms and adulterations of honey. This book made me want to try beekeeping more intensely and simultaneously cured me of wanting to own a few hives myself. For sure, I'll never look at a bee or honey the same way again!
April 24, 2018
Seriously, people, if you like food, you should be very grateful for bees! This was a fantastic read... I learned, was entertained, and found myself smiling as I thought of what these beekeepers were really like in person. I give this book 5 lovely stars!
August 16, 2016
Most interesting and informative nonfiction book I've read in a while. It's very satisfying putting a book down and feeling like you actually learned something important.
February 29, 2016
If you've ever had any questions about the reoccurring media interest in the demise of the honey bee and how it relates to agriculture and even to us personally as consumers this is THE book to read. A well researched, fascinating account that will hopefully have conscientious readers deciding to make changes in regard to their own lawns and what products and plants they choose to use in their own yards. I for one will definitely be planting more flowers!
Informative, interesting and well-written. Highly recommended. 5 stars simply because everyone should be aware of the facts presented in this short but very enlightening book.
Informative, interesting and well-written. Highly recommended. 5 stars simply because everyone should be aware of the facts presented in this short but very enlightening book.
May 25, 2018
I found the reader distracting. First, she says "ah-monds" instead of "aLmonds." I know it's not OK to dislike her for that. But she also does weird voice tricks--speeding up and slowing down, louder and quieter. I did not like it, I felt like she acted too much with it. I found it distracting.
The book itself was interesting. It killed my dreams of becoming a beekeeper. It's a hard job that requires a lot of expertise, and I'm 41 and too tired to learn about it.
This book demonstrates my complicity with the systems that have brought our civilization to the brink of disaster. We want to eat varied food. We want that food to look nice and be bug free. We want to drive our cars to Riverside and back but not worry about global warming (well, I don't *want* to drive to Riverside, but I do, and it's bad for the planet). In order to feed all the city people, we need fertilizers and domesticated bees and commercial agriculture. Obviously, there are other models of commercial agriculture, but the yields would be lower and have less variety.
There's a part near the end where she's discussing the dying towns in North Dakota, the ageing farming population. Few want to do the work, many want the fruits of the labor. And that goes for honeybees as well.
The book's subject matter are interesting, and she gets around to covering all the details: history of beekeeping, bee life, Colony Collapse Disorder, long-distance beekeeping in the present, organizations, world diversity. The book is like a bee: it meanders but gets the job done. I could discern no clear organization (example: she mentions raising queens and smuggling them or shipping them, but it's CHAPTERS later before she explains the process of cultivating queens to then smuggle or ship them), but I got everything I'd hoped for by the end.
The book itself was interesting. It killed my dreams of becoming a beekeeper. It's a hard job that requires a lot of expertise, and I'm 41 and too tired to learn about it.
This book demonstrates my complicity with the systems that have brought our civilization to the brink of disaster. We want to eat varied food. We want that food to look nice and be bug free. We want to drive our cars to Riverside and back but not worry about global warming (well, I don't *want* to drive to Riverside, but I do, and it's bad for the planet). In order to feed all the city people, we need fertilizers and domesticated bees and commercial agriculture. Obviously, there are other models of commercial agriculture, but the yields would be lower and have less variety.
There's a part near the end where she's discussing the dying towns in North Dakota, the ageing farming population. Few want to do the work, many want the fruits of the labor. And that goes for honeybees as well.
The book's subject matter are interesting, and she gets around to covering all the details: history of beekeeping, bee life, Colony Collapse Disorder, long-distance beekeeping in the present, organizations, world diversity. The book is like a bee: it meanders but gets the job done. I could discern no clear organization (example: she mentions raising queens and smuggling them or shipping them, but it's CHAPTERS later before she explains the process of cultivating queens to then smuggle or ship them), but I got everything I'd hoped for by the end.
July 10, 2018
I've always been fascinated with bees and their importance in our ecosystem. This book did a good job of explaining both the history of beekeeping, as well as the current challenges of the modern bee keepers. It covered things talked about in the media currently, such as colony collapse disorder, though because of the structure of the story, it was limited and I would have liked to hear more about it.
Ultimately a very informative book with a story told in an easy to follow way!
Ultimately a very informative book with a story told in an easy to follow way!
September 19, 2012
John Miller is crazy. Not because he's a smoking, drinking Mormon. Not because he writes email poetry. Because he is a bee guy and bee guys, by definition, are crazy. You'd have to be to tie your ever-loving life to the fate of a creature who's whole existence revolves around desire and duty, nothing more, nothing less. A creature who may no longer exist by the end of the century
Bees are the middleman - both voyeur and courtesan - of the flowering plant kingdom. They carry one plant's passion (pollen) to another and in so doing are the agent of procreation, fulfilling the desires of not only another species, but a whole other kingdom. And by doing this, they dutifully bring home more pollen than they leave on the plants which is turned into nectar which is turned into honey which keeps the bee's healthy and happy and keeps this miraculous cycle going. A byproduct of this interplay of duty and desire is the feeding of America, and the world at large.
John Miller is a bee guy...and this is his lament: the miraculous cycle is breaking down and no one knows why. Bees - in the last 40 years have been hit by wave after wave of one crippling disease after another: foulbrood, varroa jacobsonii, nosema, varroa destructor, small hive beetles, and now, colony collapse disorder (CCD). All are gruesome and chilling, and the bees have been suffering and dying off in horrifying numbers. A swarm left to fend for itself in the wild is guaranteed not to survive, there are no longer any feral bees left in North America.
But this is John Miller's lament, not his dirge. There is hope that the honeybee will indeed survive. Hannah Nordhaus does a masterful job of mixing the bad and the dreadful with the good and hopeful. She does a fine job of comparing John Miller's specifics and beekeeping in general. She even shares some fascinating history of beekeeping in America, and mentions the role of the small beekeeper in the present crisis (objectively stating that large bee-migrating ventures like John Miller's may be part of the problem).
For the experienced beekeeper and the beginner, and for those at all interested in this unique being, The Beekeeper's Lament will be "the bee in your bonnet."
Bees are the middleman - both voyeur and courtesan - of the flowering plant kingdom. They carry one plant's passion (pollen) to another and in so doing are the agent of procreation, fulfilling the desires of not only another species, but a whole other kingdom. And by doing this, they dutifully bring home more pollen than they leave on the plants which is turned into nectar which is turned into honey which keeps the bee's healthy and happy and keeps this miraculous cycle going. A byproduct of this interplay of duty and desire is the feeding of America, and the world at large.
John Miller is a bee guy...and this is his lament: the miraculous cycle is breaking down and no one knows why. Bees - in the last 40 years have been hit by wave after wave of one crippling disease after another: foulbrood, varroa jacobsonii, nosema, varroa destructor, small hive beetles, and now, colony collapse disorder (CCD). All are gruesome and chilling, and the bees have been suffering and dying off in horrifying numbers. A swarm left to fend for itself in the wild is guaranteed not to survive, there are no longer any feral bees left in North America.
But this is John Miller's lament, not his dirge. There is hope that the honeybee will indeed survive. Hannah Nordhaus does a masterful job of mixing the bad and the dreadful with the good and hopeful. She does a fine job of comparing John Miller's specifics and beekeeping in general. She even shares some fascinating history of beekeeping in America, and mentions the role of the small beekeeper in the present crisis (objectively stating that large bee-migrating ventures like John Miller's may be part of the problem).
For the experienced beekeeper and the beginner, and for those at all interested in this unique being, The Beekeeper's Lament will be "the bee in your bonnet."
May 20, 2012
The Beekeeper’s Lament is a magical mix of scintillating detail and thoughtful contemplation on the tangled, tense relationship between civilization and nature, between beekeepers and bees, between us and our food.
You might never eat another almond again without thinking about a lowly honey bee somewhere in California, doing its thing. You'll also think about the army of beekeepers it takes to deliver the beehives to the right fields at the right time.
Hannah Nordhaus is the unobtrusive and credible pal who will peel back the mysteries and wonder one layer at a time.
Nordhaus’ interests run to the beekeepers’ handlers, in particular one John Miller, who infuses much of The Beekeeper’s Lament with his unique perspective on the world from his unusual vantage point. The Beekeeper’s Lament is as much about Miller as it is about the bees. He’s a compelling subject in his own right.
The reporting dives into the world of honey bees from a number of angles, including the ongoing puzzle with Colony Collapse Disorder, the history of beekeeping, the history of construction of manmade hives, regulatory oversight of the business, bee thieves, the biology of bees and the varieties of honey they produce, among dozens of other topics.
The heart of the story is the massive army and extraordinary coordination that’s required to squeeze so much production out of the earth, a “very American story: creating a market where once there were just bugs and plants and unfettered visitation.” It's all told with a detailed eye for the science and a musical ear for the poetry and beauty of the entire scene.
It’s hard to imagine a better tour guide than Hannah Nordhaus. She’s keenly observant and endlessly curious—a killer combination.
Read this book and then go buy some honey.
You might never eat another almond again without thinking about a lowly honey bee somewhere in California, doing its thing. You'll also think about the army of beekeepers it takes to deliver the beehives to the right fields at the right time.
Hannah Nordhaus is the unobtrusive and credible pal who will peel back the mysteries and wonder one layer at a time.
Nordhaus’ interests run to the beekeepers’ handlers, in particular one John Miller, who infuses much of The Beekeeper’s Lament with his unique perspective on the world from his unusual vantage point. The Beekeeper’s Lament is as much about Miller as it is about the bees. He’s a compelling subject in his own right.
The reporting dives into the world of honey bees from a number of angles, including the ongoing puzzle with Colony Collapse Disorder, the history of beekeeping, the history of construction of manmade hives, regulatory oversight of the business, bee thieves, the biology of bees and the varieties of honey they produce, among dozens of other topics.
The heart of the story is the massive army and extraordinary coordination that’s required to squeeze so much production out of the earth, a “very American story: creating a market where once there were just bugs and plants and unfettered visitation.” It's all told with a detailed eye for the science and a musical ear for the poetry and beauty of the entire scene.
It’s hard to imagine a better tour guide than Hannah Nordhaus. She’s keenly observant and endlessly curious—a killer combination.
Read this book and then go buy some honey.
August 10, 2012
I was fascinated by this book. It was a gift to me from a dear friend. I think I remember hearing the author on NPR at one time. Nordhaus follows beekeeper John Miller as he trucks his hives around the country to various farmers who need pollinators. I learned so many things: The honey bee is not native to the U.S. It was brought from Europe. Without the bees pollination services, many of our nation's crops would produce only a small fraction of the harvest they generate with the bees help. Stay away from Dollar Store honey. Buy *American* honey -- chances are they won't be overloaded with antibiotics like honey from China! I turned down many page corners (normally a no-no in any of my books), but there were so many things I wanted to remember. The bees don't have an easy time. Between Colony Collapse Disorder, mites and other disorders -- the populations of honey bees is less and less each year. Feral honey bees are almost unheard of. Not too technical. I didn't feel like I was wading through page after page of facts. John Miller's story as a beekeeper was interesting to read. I laughed out loud more than once.
April 28, 2018
It started out a little slow, but then picked up pace. I found it to be incredibly fascinating. In all my ignorance, I had no idea what went on with storing, breeding, feeding, and transporting bees. I will never look at honey the same way again. P.S. Don't buy honey at the dollar store. It's mostly corn syrup.
December 10, 2014
Facinating! If you don't know anything about bees and honey production this gives a really good insight in to the honey bee production cycle and then issues plaguing bees. Easy to read, informative, and entertaining.
January 14, 2019
I never would have expected a book about bees and beekeeping to hit my five-star mark, but The Beekeeper's Lament absolutely did. This thorough, well-researched, and remarkably accessible look into the history and current struggles of beekeeping is both eye-opening and funny. The author manages to sprinkle her reporting with wry observations that the keep the narrative light and entertaining.
Her portrait of John Miller, owner of one of the big beekeeping operations, serves as a grounding backdrop and humanizes the world of bees and beekeeping. She captures him in a very realistic and surprisingly charming light--given that most beekeepers are notoriously "not people people" (I mean, they prefer to hang around with bees, for crying out loud)--including excerpts from his whimsical, free-verse-style emails to her and highlighting his intelligence, his creativity, his oddities, and his profound attachment to his bees in a way that almost makes you wish you'd gotten to be the one palling around with him as he takes his bees all over the country. One of the John Miller gems: "If no one is looking, snorking from a honeybear is perfectly legal."
I found myself actually laughing out loud at a few of the passages and highlighted them in my kindle to go back to later. I'll drop a favorite here for your enjoyment:
"For the life of him, Miller can’t understand why Allred decided to make a career of stealing bees—why not take something valuable, like almonds? Stealing bees is like—it’s hard to find the right metaphor for such feckless decision making—“like stealing a two-year-old. You’re just making more work for yourself,” Miller says. Nonetheless, bees get stolen all the time."
I went into this book a little apprehensive that it would be about how modern society is destroying the natural world (an overarching narrative my generation is accustomed to hearing) and killing the bees, but this book is a lot more focused on the facts and the science (including the fact that the recent die-offs still haven't been conclusively linked to just one thing... and the hot ticket accusations like pesticides and human environmental impact are incomplete explanations) and it's a lot more hopeful than you might expect. Rather than being a "the apocalypse is coming because we're killing the bees" manifesto, it's simply an exploration of the good and bad that's happened to beekeepers over the generations of American beekeeping.
One of Nordhaus's observations near the end of the book sums up my feelings about it quite succinctly: "Like bees plunging headlong into the deluding sweets, like drunks in quest of their next fix, the beekeeper obliges, instinctively, whatever the cost. Unlike bees, though, beekeepers are human—they have a choice. We should be grateful, then, that they have chosen to do something so imprudent, so daft. The world would not function without them."
I don't ever want to be a beekeeper, but I'm a lot more grateful for their efforts than I was before I read this book. I'll plant a garden of wildflowers when I have a yard of my own, in their honor.
Her portrait of John Miller, owner of one of the big beekeeping operations, serves as a grounding backdrop and humanizes the world of bees and beekeeping. She captures him in a very realistic and surprisingly charming light--given that most beekeepers are notoriously "not people people" (I mean, they prefer to hang around with bees, for crying out loud)--including excerpts from his whimsical, free-verse-style emails to her and highlighting his intelligence, his creativity, his oddities, and his profound attachment to his bees in a way that almost makes you wish you'd gotten to be the one palling around with him as he takes his bees all over the country. One of the John Miller gems: "If no one is looking, snorking from a honeybear is perfectly legal."
I found myself actually laughing out loud at a few of the passages and highlighted them in my kindle to go back to later. I'll drop a favorite here for your enjoyment:
"For the life of him, Miller can’t understand why Allred decided to make a career of stealing bees—why not take something valuable, like almonds? Stealing bees is like—it’s hard to find the right metaphor for such feckless decision making—“like stealing a two-year-old. You’re just making more work for yourself,” Miller says. Nonetheless, bees get stolen all the time."
I went into this book a little apprehensive that it would be about how modern society is destroying the natural world (an overarching narrative my generation is accustomed to hearing) and killing the bees, but this book is a lot more focused on the facts and the science (including the fact that the recent die-offs still haven't been conclusively linked to just one thing... and the hot ticket accusations like pesticides and human environmental impact are incomplete explanations) and it's a lot more hopeful than you might expect. Rather than being a "the apocalypse is coming because we're killing the bees" manifesto, it's simply an exploration of the good and bad that's happened to beekeepers over the generations of American beekeeping.
One of Nordhaus's observations near the end of the book sums up my feelings about it quite succinctly: "Like bees plunging headlong into the deluding sweets, like drunks in quest of their next fix, the beekeeper obliges, instinctively, whatever the cost. Unlike bees, though, beekeepers are human—they have a choice. We should be grateful, then, that they have chosen to do something so imprudent, so daft. The world would not function without them."
I don't ever want to be a beekeeper, but I'm a lot more grateful for their efforts than I was before I read this book. I'll plant a garden of wildflowers when I have a yard of my own, in their honor.
May 28, 2018
Review of The Beekeeper’s Lament by Hannah Nordhaus
By Maddi Miller
Pollinators are incredibly important to helping the planet and its people thrive. Without the work of our pollinators, certain flowers and crops would cease to exist. Unfortunately, not everyone remembers the role pollinators play in their everyday lives. In particular, honey bees are responsible for pollinating the plants of foods we often enjoy.
Nordhaus begins the book with by introducing John Miller. Miller is a father and husband, but most of all he is a migratory beekeeper. His big business is travelling around the country to bring his bee colonies to locations where there are not enough pollinators to support the agrobusiness in the area. A reoccurring example of a place that needs the help of these migratory beekeeper is the “almond orchards in California’s Central Valley” (6). This is important to note because this is one of the biggest sources of income for these migratory beekeepers. Although the bees and their keepers certainly aren’t out of a job, the problem is a mysterious occurrence that begins to plague bee colonies: Colony Collapse Disorder. This issue was first publicly spoken about when beekeeper Dave Hackenberg discovered that out of his “400 hives… [he] found 360 of them empty” (8). The odd thing about this is that the hives that were empty still appeared perfectly healthy, in fact, the hives still had their queen intact and plenty of honey in them. The bees had seemingly disappeared into thin air. It wasn’t until “beekeepers across the country and then the world began to report similar inexplicable losses” (9), that this disease was called Colony Collapse Disorder.
After going over the initial 2007 rash of Colony Collapse Disorder, Nordhaus goes on to discuss other reasons why bees are dying in large populations. Some of the culprits for these mass die-offs of bees are: accidents while transporting bees from location to location, American foulbrood, the tracheal mite, varroa mite, wax moths, skunks, bears, Africanized bees, and what Miller so eloquently calls “piss-poor beekeeping” (162). All of the pest and bacterial causes of bees dying en masse resulted in the use of drugs and pesticides to keep them at bay, which wasn’t necessarily helpful for the honey business. Not to mention the quarantines of California and Canada, which were both huge places for business for migratory beekeepers. These pests not only severely decreased the bee population, but it also financially hurt those who worked in the beekeeping industry.
Finally, the discussion about CCD re-emerges. In the aftermath of the initial CCD outbreak in 2007, Hackenberg the original whistleblower for CCD, had autopsies of his bees done. The autopsies yielded results that were just as, if not more, confusing than the sudden departures of the bees from their healthy hives. When bees are autopsied, they are typically white and creamy when they are cut into, but the bees in this lab had black insides. This was indicative of some kind of infection. The bees were infected, but they were all infected with different diseases. There were a number of theories that Nordhaus presented in regard to the causes of CCD. Some of the potential causes were viruses, mites, pesticides, and perhaps the most sensational of them all: cell phone towers. Nordhaus dismisses the idea that CCD could be caused by cellphone towers, because there have been cases of it in remote areas with very few, if any cellphone towers are present. However, most surprisingly, Nordhaus implies that the cause of CCD could potentially be a result of California’s Central Valley almond farming. The bees are brought to the almond farms to pollinate during a time of year when they would much rather be dormant. Additionally, Nordhaus notes that “almond orchards have been compared to a brothel for their remarkable capacity to transmit disease”.
Something I enjoyed about this book was the variety of new concepts it introduced me to. In all honesty, I had relatively little knowledge about bees and their struggle. The most knowledge I had was that the bee population is dwindling and that they need our help, which for someone with a “Save the Bees” sticker on the back of their phone, that seems almost disgraceful. For some reason, and I don’t think I’m the only one, I tend to associate any kind of environmental or agrarian problem with climate change. Although climate does have a lot to do with a number of issues, it isn’t always the root cause. I was shocked when I read Nordhaus’ words about how almond orchards could potentially be causing bees to die en masse. The bees are lacking sleep and proper nutrition due to tight schedules on the almond farms (which is astonishingly similar to a college student’s life- minus the almond orchards).
I was also acutely unaware of the problem of CCD. Nordhaus does a good job of presenting the information about CCD in a way that is both easy and enjoyable to read. She doesn’t waste her time using huge vocabulary words that would be impossible for the average person to pronounce, let alone comprehend. That made this book something that I really believe is worth reading because it covers a topic that truly affects everyone, and it’s done in a way that is intriguing and enjoyable.
I loved how Nordhaus included John Miller’s experience as a migratory beekeeper and his family history without letting her voice get in the way of his perspective. His voice adds a bit of fun to the book, which I quite appreciated, especially considering how heavy the subject matter can get. For me, it also added an extra element of interest because I’ve never thought about why people become beekeepers. For Miller, it was because his family continued to pass down the beekeeping business.
A critique I have for the author was how long it took for the book to come back to the topic of CCD. From the first couple of chapters, I felt that Nordhaus was setting the rest of the book up to talk about the effects and causes of CCD, along with Miller’s perspective and experience with the epidemic. While the book did provide this, there was a gap of nearly 130 pages in between mentions of the disease. I was hoping that the causes and effects of CCD would have been more integrated into the book, rather than a chunk of information about other pests and diseases in the middle. I feel as though I sort of forgot that CCD was even an issue until I was reminded in the latter part of the book.
Overall, Nordhaus does a good job of providing information about how honeybees are integral to our food system and the threats that face them. This information is not only relevant, but it is incredibly important. Without the work of bees and the migratory beekeepers, a number of agrarian industries will cease to exist. The livelihoods of millions of people depend on honeybees.
By Maddi Miller
Pollinators are incredibly important to helping the planet and its people thrive. Without the work of our pollinators, certain flowers and crops would cease to exist. Unfortunately, not everyone remembers the role pollinators play in their everyday lives. In particular, honey bees are responsible for pollinating the plants of foods we often enjoy.
Nordhaus begins the book with by introducing John Miller. Miller is a father and husband, but most of all he is a migratory beekeeper. His big business is travelling around the country to bring his bee colonies to locations where there are not enough pollinators to support the agrobusiness in the area. A reoccurring example of a place that needs the help of these migratory beekeeper is the “almond orchards in California’s Central Valley” (6). This is important to note because this is one of the biggest sources of income for these migratory beekeepers. Although the bees and their keepers certainly aren’t out of a job, the problem is a mysterious occurrence that begins to plague bee colonies: Colony Collapse Disorder. This issue was first publicly spoken about when beekeeper Dave Hackenberg discovered that out of his “400 hives… [he] found 360 of them empty” (8). The odd thing about this is that the hives that were empty still appeared perfectly healthy, in fact, the hives still had their queen intact and plenty of honey in them. The bees had seemingly disappeared into thin air. It wasn’t until “beekeepers across the country and then the world began to report similar inexplicable losses” (9), that this disease was called Colony Collapse Disorder.
After going over the initial 2007 rash of Colony Collapse Disorder, Nordhaus goes on to discuss other reasons why bees are dying in large populations. Some of the culprits for these mass die-offs of bees are: accidents while transporting bees from location to location, American foulbrood, the tracheal mite, varroa mite, wax moths, skunks, bears, Africanized bees, and what Miller so eloquently calls “piss-poor beekeeping” (162). All of the pest and bacterial causes of bees dying en masse resulted in the use of drugs and pesticides to keep them at bay, which wasn’t necessarily helpful for the honey business. Not to mention the quarantines of California and Canada, which were both huge places for business for migratory beekeepers. These pests not only severely decreased the bee population, but it also financially hurt those who worked in the beekeeping industry.
Finally, the discussion about CCD re-emerges. In the aftermath of the initial CCD outbreak in 2007, Hackenberg the original whistleblower for CCD, had autopsies of his bees done. The autopsies yielded results that were just as, if not more, confusing than the sudden departures of the bees from their healthy hives. When bees are autopsied, they are typically white and creamy when they are cut into, but the bees in this lab had black insides. This was indicative of some kind of infection. The bees were infected, but they were all infected with different diseases. There were a number of theories that Nordhaus presented in regard to the causes of CCD. Some of the potential causes were viruses, mites, pesticides, and perhaps the most sensational of them all: cell phone towers. Nordhaus dismisses the idea that CCD could be caused by cellphone towers, because there have been cases of it in remote areas with very few, if any cellphone towers are present. However, most surprisingly, Nordhaus implies that the cause of CCD could potentially be a result of California’s Central Valley almond farming. The bees are brought to the almond farms to pollinate during a time of year when they would much rather be dormant. Additionally, Nordhaus notes that “almond orchards have been compared to a brothel for their remarkable capacity to transmit disease”.
Something I enjoyed about this book was the variety of new concepts it introduced me to. In all honesty, I had relatively little knowledge about bees and their struggle. The most knowledge I had was that the bee population is dwindling and that they need our help, which for someone with a “Save the Bees” sticker on the back of their phone, that seems almost disgraceful. For some reason, and I don’t think I’m the only one, I tend to associate any kind of environmental or agrarian problem with climate change. Although climate does have a lot to do with a number of issues, it isn’t always the root cause. I was shocked when I read Nordhaus’ words about how almond orchards could potentially be causing bees to die en masse. The bees are lacking sleep and proper nutrition due to tight schedules on the almond farms (which is astonishingly similar to a college student’s life- minus the almond orchards).
I was also acutely unaware of the problem of CCD. Nordhaus does a good job of presenting the information about CCD in a way that is both easy and enjoyable to read. She doesn’t waste her time using huge vocabulary words that would be impossible for the average person to pronounce, let alone comprehend. That made this book something that I really believe is worth reading because it covers a topic that truly affects everyone, and it’s done in a way that is intriguing and enjoyable.
I loved how Nordhaus included John Miller’s experience as a migratory beekeeper and his family history without letting her voice get in the way of his perspective. His voice adds a bit of fun to the book, which I quite appreciated, especially considering how heavy the subject matter can get. For me, it also added an extra element of interest because I’ve never thought about why people become beekeepers. For Miller, it was because his family continued to pass down the beekeeping business.
A critique I have for the author was how long it took for the book to come back to the topic of CCD. From the first couple of chapters, I felt that Nordhaus was setting the rest of the book up to talk about the effects and causes of CCD, along with Miller’s perspective and experience with the epidemic. While the book did provide this, there was a gap of nearly 130 pages in between mentions of the disease. I was hoping that the causes and effects of CCD would have been more integrated into the book, rather than a chunk of information about other pests and diseases in the middle. I feel as though I sort of forgot that CCD was even an issue until I was reminded in the latter part of the book.
Overall, Nordhaus does a good job of providing information about how honeybees are integral to our food system and the threats that face them. This information is not only relevant, but it is incredibly important. Without the work of bees and the migratory beekeepers, a number of agrarian industries will cease to exist. The livelihoods of millions of people depend on honeybees.
August 30, 2018
(Audible)
Bees are in the news and we're worried about the future of food production if Hive Collapse issues can't be understood and cured.
This book provided in depth background on the history of beekeeping, types of bees, types of mites, predators, cycle of hive growth, prosperity and collapse along with the industry of bee keeping. Migrant bee keepers managing thousands of hives, transporting them to where the blossoms are and keeping them fed and healthy in the down seasons.
How the popularity of almonds led to a boom for beekeepers, and how seedless cuties and clementines led to lawsuits against beekeepers who "couldn't keep their bees away from the trees they did NOT want pollinated."
It's kind of sad how we industrialize everything. Descriptions of smuggled queen bees, semi-trailer crashes that left thousands of hives open, dripping honey on the highway and angry bees everywhere--the tragic loss of bee lives when there's drought or cold, disease or collapse.
Bee rustling. WHO KNEW there were bee rustlers!
Very interesting book. Centers around a few main characters in bee keeping but provides good background and research.
OH and you get the bonus of learning the bee sting pain calibration scale. Glad I wasn't part of THAT research project.
Recommend.
Bees are in the news and we're worried about the future of food production if Hive Collapse issues can't be understood and cured.
This book provided in depth background on the history of beekeeping, types of bees, types of mites, predators, cycle of hive growth, prosperity and collapse along with the industry of bee keeping. Migrant bee keepers managing thousands of hives, transporting them to where the blossoms are and keeping them fed and healthy in the down seasons.
How the popularity of almonds led to a boom for beekeepers, and how seedless cuties and clementines led to lawsuits against beekeepers who "couldn't keep their bees away from the trees they did NOT want pollinated."
It's kind of sad how we industrialize everything. Descriptions of smuggled queen bees, semi-trailer crashes that left thousands of hives open, dripping honey on the highway and angry bees everywhere--the tragic loss of bee lives when there's drought or cold, disease or collapse.
Bee rustling. WHO KNEW there were bee rustlers!
Very interesting book. Centers around a few main characters in bee keeping but provides good background and research.
OH and you get the bonus of learning the bee sting pain calibration scale. Glad I wasn't part of THAT research project.
Recommend.
June 18, 2019
I'd rather know John Miller, the beekeeper in the title, than read about him. He seems like a really good and interesting guy but the author falls well short of the mark in telling his story. In contrast, Susan Olean does a masterful job of building a book around John Laroche in The Orchid Thief. The Orchid Thief itself is a desultory, bloated magazine article but the Laroche portions are hilarious and magnetic. (Staying on The Orchid Thief subject for two more points: Chris Cooper is fantastic as Laroche in the movie Adaptation and Brian Cox's speech in Adaptation (about writing a screenplay where nothing happens in the real world) is one of the best minute and a half monologues in film.)
Fortunately the author spends about half of the book providing popular science details about bees, pollination, honey and the like. There's a successful formula for conveying scientific information in an interesting way and Nordhaus succeeds in this regard. (I think all of my kindle highlights relate to the natural science portions.) If Nordhaus had Olean's ability to tell the main subject's story in such a funny and compelling way this would have been an absolute 5 star book. As it is the book is good but very uneven.
Fortunately the author spends about half of the book providing popular science details about bees, pollination, honey and the like. There's a successful formula for conveying scientific information in an interesting way and Nordhaus succeeds in this regard. (I think all of my kindle highlights relate to the natural science portions.) If Nordhaus had Olean's ability to tell the main subject's story in such a funny and compelling way this would have been an absolute 5 star book. As it is the book is good but very uneven.
September 29, 2019
This was full of interesting facts and insights into bees and our need of their work if we want to eat. However, I would have been content to read it in the original article form. My interest just was not captured by the detailed descriptions and histories, perhaps because my reading time is before bed. I was often drifting off before making it to a section break. Then again, I'm not a bee guy... ;)
I also learned how rare REAL honey is (most of the grocery-store honey bears are adulterated with corn syrup) and what a debt of gratitude I owe my next-door neighbor. He IS a bee guy, and we benefit immensely from his bee addiction!
I also learned how rare REAL honey is (most of the grocery-store honey bears are adulterated with corn syrup) and what a debt of gratitude I owe my next-door neighbor. He IS a bee guy, and we benefit immensely from his bee addiction!
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