I get asked all the time about why I got into beekeeping. It seems to be an honest question, unless you have the ability to hear what people mean over what people say, which I do. And what people are really asking me is "How could you or anyone else be so crazy/stupid/irrational/suicidal to work with bees?" I get asked this question at least three times a day, and for the first year I laughed it off. However, I am finding myself taking greater offense to this question of late, as I am growing increasingly tired of being treated like a freak for working with a creature that I adore so much. The following is an explanation behind my passion for my trade, and it should effectively lower the chance of you trying my patience, however innocent your intentions may be.

I'm not going to go into detail about the tremendous benefits bees add to our lives and how the work they perform is responsible for many of the food staples you enjoy. If your IQ is above room temperature, you should already know this. Beekeeping is an ancient craft, one that has been around since at least 70 B.C, and there are several references to apiculture in the Bible. It is thought that the ancient Egyptians were the first migratory beekeepers, as they took great pains and effort to relocate hives via the Nile River. They didn't know the mechanism behind the bees' magic, but they understood that where bees went, food grew. So you see, what I'm doing is hardly novel or unique. Humans have been working with bees for thousands of years, and hunting for honey for thousands of years before that. How many industries can boast they still have relevance after 10,000 years of existence?

Bees are extraordinary. Bees are the most researched insect in all of history and the world, and yet we are still discovering more about them. They still amaze and surprise. The wonders are endless, the miracles never ending. I'll mention one of them here. Many of you would be a lost cause without your GPS or Mapquest. Yet, the honeybee, with a brain smaller than the head of a pin, is not only able to navigate to flowers within a five mile radius and find her way back home, but also has the ability to recruit additional foragers and give them precise directions to the patch of flowers she has found. She gives these directions in complete darkness by performing a dance. Bees surround her and "listen" by paying attention to what direction she faces on the comb, how vigorously she waggles, and other subtle variations so they know just how valuable the food supply is, and where, within a square foot, the food can be found. Not impressed? Find a friend, blindfold yourselves, and, without speaking or writing and using only body movement, attempt to tell them where you want them to go,how to get there, and why. You will fail.

Another reason I enjoy working the bees is knowing that if society was more like my hives, this world would be so much kinder. Bees, like us, are social creatures. Yet, unlike us, each individual is completely obsessed with nothing else but the good for the colony. Each bee moves and acts according to what is presumably best for the entire hive. One can argue that the bee intrinsically understands that if the colony doesn't do well, neither will she, and therefore the bee is still acting on selfish principles, but that is a semantic argument. I don't know many people that make their decisions completely and solely based on what is best for the family or community. I don't know many people that will fearlessly take on ANY threat, regardless of how big it is and how hopeless the situation may be, and fight to the death to protect her society. My bees provide an example of how to live a good life. You are not as independent as you think. Act accordingly.

My bees have also replanted the seed of faith in a power greater than myself. I remember the lectures during the decade or so being in parochial school about God's unconditional love, and thinking how ridiculous it sounded. All love is conditional, I told myself. This tenant can not be true, therefore, probably nothing is. People certainly have conditions to their love, and if someone fails to meet expectations or disappoints, that love most certainly dwindles. How can any god continually love a creature like us that is fallible, stupid, ignorant, and constantly sinning? I didn't think this possible until I worked with bees. They are like children sometimes, unaware of the dangers to them. I must give them medicine, or they will succumb to infections in the winter. I must give syrup to the hives that didn't collect enough honey so they don't starve. I have to move them from area to area, so they can continually have food and to remove them out of harms way, such as in the case of pesticide or wildfires. I remove them from structures so the homeowner doesn't hire an exterminator to murder them. The bees don't understand this, and have gone out of their way to physically maim me for loving them. I have been stung all over my body, more than 50 times during one epic disaster. I've returned home, limping, with ankles swollen, testicles burning, neck bristling with pain and stingers. Everything I do, I do for them, and I am often rewarded for my work by being treated like a big pin cushion by a creature that simply does not understand that what I'm doing is for her own good. And yet I love them. Continually. Completely. Totally. I lose sleep if I miss a day from being with them. I can't keep from weeping when I come to a hive that has been lost or a colony that is suffering from an ailment I can't explain and can't fix. Unconditional love does exist, and if there is a God, this must be what He feels like.

This is because of the truth I have learned in regards to the colonies themselves. You can't know this truth until you actually work bees. It's impossible. But once you do, you come to understand that while every bee may seem like just another insect, the colony itself is a powerful entity with a personality, and each colony is different and unique. Tens of thousands of bees together form a spirit that you can feel and recognize. You can sense their contentment, hear their desperation if conditions are miserable,feel their sadness at the injury or loss of their queen, know their rage when the hive literally roars as it mistakenly places the blame of a threat on you. Many in the industry swear that bees know their keeper. Scientifically, I know that is unlikely. Deep down, though, I know they do. I remove a frame covered with bees, and when they don't even act like they notice or mind, and look up at me as if to say, "Good morning, mate! We are all doing fine here, thanks. What is with that strange hat of yours? Not really your style, I'm afraid. Have a good one!"

Until you work with them, you will never understand this paradox.

At the end of the day, when the sun goes down and the bees and myself are back home, relaxing after a day of toil and hardship, I know I have done good. This is one of the few industries that has no losers. Everybody wins in this business with bees. The environment wins by having efficient pollinators to help plants, farmers win by reaping more productive harvests, the bees win by being provided with the most ideal home imaginable and thus are able to hoard more nectar than they could possibly use, thereby providing me with a surplus of honey and a bit of profit. I get to make my customers feel good about hiring me over an exterminator to remove bees from their homes. Educating people about bees can be frustrating and tiresome at times, since I am always having to extract years and years of erroneous information that is usually discriminatory. But when I see the switch flip and the lights turn on behind their eyes, its totally worth it. It's like the stopper of their bathtub of stupidity was finally removed, and I get to watch the ignorance drain away. Nothing thrills me more than someone who was deathly afraid of bees call me a month later after having me remove a hive from their home and sheepishly ask if they could have it back. Perhaps at the side of the house? They would really like their own honey, you see, and the prospect of that vegetable garden doing better is a great bonus.

There is magic here. And that is why I am a beekeeper.