Easy Honey Bee Feeding Stations

Open feeding can be a contentious issue. I’ve discussed it before, and I remain of the belief that—as long as I don’t have neighbors who keep bees—open feeding is an efficient way to deliver food to provide for the overall welfare of my colonies without encourage robbing. Of course, sometimes I still feed individual high-need colonies internally, and I’m certainly open in the future to changing my mind about the safety of open feeding. In the meantime, I have cut back on the amount of feeding I do, both in and out of the hives—as soon as there’s some natural nectar available early in the spring, I stop feeding and let the bees forage. Okay, with that out of the way…

Honey bees flock to these feeder stations when there’s syrup set out for them

I used to feed my bees by placing syrup jugs on the floor of my open-air woodshed. Well, I lost a lot of syrup doing it that way, especially once the raccoons figured out how to unscrew the lids on my containers. So about a year ago I decided to build elevated feeding stations. What I settled on was using mailbox posts and bottom boards, and it’s worked out really well. The mailbox posts each cost about $20 and the solid bottom boards cost about $15. Throw in a bag of Quikcrete for another $5 and you’ve spent a total of $40 per feeding station. These seem to be impervious to squirrels, raccoons, and other four-legged critters, leaving a majority of the syrup to the bees—with just a little bit lost to yellowjackets and other wasps.

If you decide to make your own, I’ve got a couple tips for you. First, put a few extra washers/shims on the back side of the bottom board when you attach it to the post. This will slope the board forward and allow rainwater to shed off the front side. Without this modification, you are liable to drown visiting bees in pools of rain water. But even if you forget, you can always drill some holes in low spots on the bottom board to drain the water—which is what I’ve done. Second, be sure to put a good exterior stain or paint on your bottom boards before you assemble everything. This will help ensure your feeding stand will last for years without rotting. But hey, even if the wood does rot, you can replace it in about 5 minutes for $15, and your bees won’t miss a single meal.

My honey bee feeding stations double as bird feeders in the winter, when snow covers a lot of their wild forage

Is Honey Vegan?

Can vegans eat honey? The short answer is no. The better answer may not be so clear. A lot of people have written about this, certainly more thoroughly than I will. But the ethics of beekeeping is a topic I ponder, so here are my thoughts.

First, I am a vegetarian. Not a vegan—I eat cheese and occasionally eggs. But I haven’t eaten meat (on purpose) for almost a decade. I don’t avoid meat for health reasons, but rather out of my own sense of morality. I believe animals have value extending beyond my dinner plate. That’s my personal belief. I don’t make it a big part of my existence, I don’t bring it up in casual conversation, and I don’t look down on meat eaters. I also don’t scoff at the vegan lifestyle. On the contrary, I think vegans are trying to do the right thing the same way I’m trying—maybe better than I am. All that being said, I only mention my vegetarianism in order to provide context to my views on the consumption of honey.

At the most basic level, honey is an animal product, and vegans don’t eat animal products. So case closed, vegans aren’t allowed eat honey and still call themselves vegans. But nuance often complicates even simple questions.

Honey can be humane, if not technically vegan

As a beekeeper and an animal welfare advocate, I want my bees to live comfortably—happily if it’s possible for an insect—and die naturally and peacefully. I spend a lot of time, sweat, and money trying to ensure my bees have good lives, wanting of nothing and free from suffering. I do this because I genuinely care about them. I grimace watching videos of commercial beekeeping operations, where hives appear to be handled with little regard for bee safety. I understand why commercial operators have to work quickly and (in my view) recklessly—honey has been so devalued by [adulterated Chinese] imports that US beekeepers have to manage a huge number of hives with killer efficiency to meet the ludicrous prices demanded by big retailers—it’s all about volume. I couldn’t be that kind of beekeeper, but I understand their dilemma. Conversely, my careful inefficiency makes for high-quality, expensive honey (more expensive than I sell it for). But more importantly to me is that people can enjoy the honey knowing my bees were treated as humanely as possible.

Gently handling a honey bee

I do kill bees. To a fault I try to avoid it, but it’s impossible not to smash some while re-assembling a boiling-over mid-summer hive. I tell them I’m sorry each time, and every time it makes me a little sad. If I accidentally hurt a bee without killing her, I’ll try to put her out of her misery quickly. I do not take their deaths lightly, but I know the hive manipulations I’m performing are for the greater good of each colony. Without my intervention, there would be unneeded suffering due to diseases, pests, and starvation.

While a small number of bees do die during my beekeeping endeavors, the fact is that growing vegetables, grains, and other vegan-approved foods also kills bugs. Agricultural operations require pesticides. If you think you’re off the hook because you only eat organic vegetables, you’re wrong. Pesticides are used used in both conventional farming and organic farming. Some evidence even indicates the pesticides used by organic farmers cause more damage than those used by conventional farmers. Even worse, the inefficiency of organic farming means more land has to be put into crop production to feed the same amount of people, which means wild habitat is converted to farmland, which means wildlife perishes. My point is that things aren’t always what they seem, and while we should minimize our footprint on this planet, it’s impossible to leave no footprint at all.

There’s also a somewhat popular vegan honey substitute on the market that’s made from apples. If you’ve ever grown apple trees, you know how badly they’re under attack by a various bugs. All the apple trees I’ve grown have required some level of pest and fungus defense to keep them alive. Sweeteners made from sugar beets and sugarcane have similar problems. Meanwhile, my bees predominantly forage wildflowers, such as clover, black locust, goldenrod, etc., most of which never see a drop of pesticides.

Vegans should be commended for their concern the well-being of animals

All of this means that vegans most definitely kill and displace bugs and other animals, even when strictly adhering to a vegan diet. It sucks, but it’s reality. Heck, if you live in the country like I do, driving a car is less vegan than eating honey—I know this because I have to clean bugs from my windshield each time I gas up in the summer.

If you’re vegan, I’m not suggesting you alter your lifestyle. Again, I admire your goals and share most of the same values. But if you’re on the fence about eating honey, my advice is to find a local beekeeper, visit their operation, and ask them questions about how they handle their bees. Pay attention to the reverence—or lack thereof—they give their colonies. If you’re not totally satisfied with their treatment of bees, look for a different beekeeper. In the end, you may decide that eating honey isn’t the right choice for you. But if you find a beekeeper who shares your love of animals and nature, I say enjoy their honey and keep being vegan.

Best Gifts for Beekeepers, 2019

As winter sets in on much of the northern hemisphere and Christmas nears, the pressure is once again on to find gifts for family and friends. If you’ve got a beekeeper in your life, I’ve got good news for you—it’s super easy to buy them gifts at a wide range of prices, and they’ll love the fact that you’re helping to fund their addiction…er…hobby.

Below are some of my favorite beekeeping gift ideas for 2019. I made a similar list in 2018 and then again in 2020, and those ideas are still valid too if you’re looking for more options. These are discussed from the cheapest to the most expensive, and they’re all just about guaranteed to please any beekeeper on your shopping list.

Top Picks, $10-$20

Sugar

Sugar is a recurring purchase for beekeepers

No, I’m not confusing beekeepers with bakers. Most beekeepers provide supplemental feed to their bees in the spring and/or fall to give colonies a boost and help them survive long periods without flowering plants. “Supplemental feed” makes it sound fancy, but it’s really just syrup with two main ingredients—water and sugar. A lot of sugar.

Around here, the best retail deal on sugar is at Walmart, where you can have a 25 pound bag for just $9. Sticking a bow on a bag of sugar is an inexpensive way to give a beekeeper something they almost certainly need, and you could even spruce it up a bit by putting a few bags into a large, resealable container for them to use year after year.

DFM Supplement

One of the DFM supplements available to beekeepers

Over the last year, beekeepers lost access to an antibiotic called Fumagilin-B. They fed this medication to their bees to guard against an intestinal disease called Nosema. The one company in the world that manufactured this medication has shut down. Whether this is a good or bad thing is debatable. And while I still have an unopened bottle of Fumaginlin-B on my shelf, I have no plans to use it. Instead, for the last few years I’ve been using a direct fed microbial, or DFM, to promote gut health in my bees. At this point, I put a pinch of ProDFM into any feed I make, whether in syrup or fondant form. Mann Lake sells packages with enough powder to treat 10 hives for $18.95. The DFM products are said to work similarly to probiotics in popular human food like yogurt, by improving the microflora of the bees’ intestines and make them less susceptible to gut-related illness. This product is new enough that there’s a chance you’ll be teaching your beekeeper something they hadn’t learned about yet.

Top Pick, $20-$50

Wildflower Seed Mix

A honey bee on aster wildflowers

Most beekeepers love flowers almost as much as they love their bees. Flowers literally give life to the bees, so it’s no surprise we become fascinated with botany. I’m constantly planting flowering shrubs, trees, perennials, and annuals, with an emphasis on staggering bloom dates from natives that thrive in my region. There are many ways to buy seed mixes, and I’ve bought them in all those ways. Local feed stores often carry a variety of clover seeds for people wanting to improve feed plots or livestock pastures, but those same seeds are valuable to pollinators (so long as they’re allowed to flower before grazing or mowing). You can buy seed packages online or at nurseries, and of course by collecting dried seeds from wildflowers in your own yard. Handpicked wildflower seeds would make a fantastic gift for any beekeeper, and potentially cost you nothing! Someone gave us a wildflower mix last year, and my wife turned it into one of the best places near the house to stand and admire flowers. One pound bags of wildflower seed mix can be had for about $30, and you can get six or seven pounds of clover from a feed store for that price. Just make sure you’re picking a mix that’s appropriate to your area, and be vigilant about introducing invasive plants into your landscape. For what it’s worth, this is my favorite item on the 2019 list. It’s a gift any beekeeper would be excited to see under the tree every year.

Top Pick, $50-$100

The Hive Butler

My Hive Butler in use during honey extractions this summer

Perhaps the best new beekeeping invention to come to market over the last year is The Hive Butler. A couple Indiana beekeepers saw the need for a multipurpose tote for Langstroth frames, and they did something about it. The Hive Butler goes for between $75 and $90 for the basic kits. The food-grade tote has slots to hold bee frames apart and keep them secure. The vented lid can be used when moving live bees, to hold the queen in a safe place during an inspection, or during a swarm recovery. The unvented lid is best when harvesting frames of honey, because it’s not as likely to attract hoards of robber bees.

I can’t stress enough how nice it is to have a Hive Butler in the bee yard. I load mine into the tractor just about every time I head to my hives, and it comes in handy more often than not. It’s a true utility player in a lineup dominated by specialized tools, and well worth the price if you ask me.

Top Pick, $100-$200

Scythe

Scythes are great for mowing in front of hives without upsetting the bees

Beekeepers generally dread having to mow around their hives. The problem with mowing around hives is that lawnmowers create so much vibration and debris that it can put nearby bee colonies in a defensive posture, which means the person pushing the mower either needs to be suited up or prepared to take some stings. Enter the scythe. It’s basically an old-school lawn mower, though it’s best known in pop culture as the Grim Reaper’s weapon of choice.

I use my scythe extensively for cutting grass around my hives, as well as near small trees and other objects I don’t want to put at risk with the brush hog on my tractor. My scythe comes from Scythe Supply, which sells custom “outfits” for about $200 and provides a lot of good educational info about how to use them. These are heirloom-quality tools that can be passed on for generations. The scythe lets me safely cut grass in front of my hives while wearing a t-shirt, and it beats lugging the lawnmower out of the garage when you need to do some quick mowing around a utility pole or fruit tree. I’d consider this a gift for the beekeeper who has just about everything, and one who doesn’t mind a little exercise. It also comes in handy on Halloween.

Mite Bomb!

This graph shows the last two years of varroa mite tests for one of my hives. It was doing pretty great until the end of September, when the percentage of mites-to-bees exploded—going from under 1% to over 8% in less than one month. This demonstrates a couple things. First, you’ve got to be testing your hives for mites throughout the year. As long as your bees can fly, you need to monitor their mite loads. Too many people do a couple OAV treatments, or apply Apiguard, MAQS, etc. after pulling honey supers, and then assume they’re all set for the winter. But this is clearly not the case. If I’d have ignored this colony after the sub-1% test on September 7th, it would almost certainly die this winter. And in the spring I’d be saying, “It wasn’t mites that killed them, because the mite load was very low going into winter.” But it was the mites that killed them, despite my genuine belief to the contrary.

The second thing that jumps out about this graph is what appears to be a mite bomb. “Mite bomb” is a colloquial term referring to a honey bee colony that has been overwhelmed by varroa mites. The colony is collapsing from disease and becomes vulnerable to robbing. A stronger colony comes in and robs the dying colony’s food stores, taking that honey back to their hive. Except they don’t just take honey—during the robbing varroa mites are busy crawling onto the robber bees, hitching rides to the invaders’ hive.

On the upside, fall wildflowers (including these white asters) are still blooming, providing both nectar and pollen

So to determine whether this was a mite bomb or just an explosion of this hive’s internal mite population, I get to try some math. On September 7th, I had an ectoparasitic (phoretic) mite load of 0.94%. Assuming a worst-case scenario with the maximum amount of brood in the hive, the colony would have a true mite load of about 1.70% (this ballpark number includes mites under capped cells). Using the r-value published by Randy Oliver of .021 (varroa birth rate minus death rate), and assuming the hive’s population dropped from 40,000 to 25,000 between September 7th and October 5th (which is a stretch based on my observations), the expected mite load at the end of the period is 4.87%. That’s about half of what actually happened, which leads me to believe this spike in mites was caused by a mite bomb. Of course, I won’t rule out that my numbers are off—but to make my amateur math work in favor of a purely internal mite explosion, the population on October 5th would have to be just 15,000 bees, and that was not the case with this particular hive. Another piece of anecdotal evidence is that this was a huge deviation from all of my other hives—none of the others, even the similarly strong ones, had such a sharp increase in mite loads over such a short period of time.

Some people claim that mite bombs aren’t a real thing. They “prove” this by reminding us that bees die from parasitic mite syndrome (PMS) during times of the year when it’s too cold to fly, so they can’t possibly be robbing other colonies. But I would point out that the colony in the graph above is still very strong right now, and I have no doubt they would make it deep into winter without any intervention on my part. So there could be months between a mite bomb and a colony’s ultimate demise. Unless I’m missing something, various arguments about cold climates disproving the existence of mite bombs don’t hold up.

More October flowers, including cosmos sensation and nearly-spent goldenrod

To be fair, the mite bomb in this example could very well be my fault. It may have been a swarm I lost in the last 2-3 years. By now, those swarms, after making a home in the forests surrounding my bee yard, are probably succumbing to mites. Those dying feral colonies are easy pickin’ for my strong colonies, and as a result the mites get to move into my apiary and live on by terrorizing another hive.

So what do I do with this hive? I treated it with oxalic acid vaporization last weekend, and I’ll be sugar rolling it tomorrow to get a fresh gauge on the mite load. I’m sure the mites will still be too high, and I’ll OAV it again. This’ll probably continue for the next few weeks until the mites are under control. Then I just cross my fingers that the winter crop of bees didn’t suffer too much damage to successfully survive until next spring.

Beekeeping is Backbreaking Work

A frame of honey ready for harvest

Anyone who’s harvested more than a few supers of honey knows how demanding beekeeping can be on your body. The most physically challenging days of each beekeeping year are those spent pulling supers from hives. I’m sure big commercial operations are pretty efficient, but for small beekeepers like me it involves inspecting each super—each frame really—for capped honey that’s ready to extract. Then you’ve got to get the bees out of those supers, which means either chemical repellents or my old fashioned method of using bee escapes and a bee brush. There are a bunch of other factors that increase the difficulty, such as keeping bees off the frames after you’ve removed them from the hives, but they all add up to lifting heavy objects (50 pound medium supers) for long days while wearing a veil (at a minimum) in the hot sun. Even after the supers have been pulled, there’s the problem of storing them safely until they can be extracted. Dehydration and heat exhaustion are real concerns during these harvest days. I’m in my mid-40s and in pretty good shape for my age, but I still feel like I’ve been hit by a truck after a day of pulling supers.

A batch of honey supers—each weighting about 50 pounds—in the freezer awaiting extraction

So when folks tell me they want to get into beekeeping, I can’t help but at least consider their physical condition as a factor. I’m not judging them as people, mind you, but just trying to gauge whether they are physically able to keep bees. (Of course, I would never mention this to anyone—instead I’ll say something like “You should come work with me for a day and see if it’s something you enjoy before you spend hundreds of dollars on equipment.”) I suppose there are ways to minimize the demands of beekeeping, such as keeping just one or two colonies, using Flow Hives or top bar hives, employing helpers, etc. These tactics may help, but they each have their own drawbacks. Sadly, people who have certain medical issues or are in overall poor shape are likely to struggle with beekeeping—especially during harvest time.

Spinning out honey

And it doesn’t end with the harvest, because extraction days are also tough on the body. There’s more lifting, uncapping, extracting, bottling, and cleaning. Lots and lots of cleaning. For all of these reasons, I suspect that a good percentage of new beekeepers end up failing because they weren’t prepared for the physical demands of the hobby. Add in the intellectual demands of maintaining a healthy colony and it’s no surprise that a vast majority of new beekeepers jump ship after a few years.

On the flip side, I’m always impressed when I go to a bee club meeting and see beekeepers in their 70s who are still working 30 hives. I don’t know how they do it, and I only hope I’ll be healthy enough to do the same at their age.