
Stolen bees?
Ever been robbed? I have. It’s a pretty sick feeling when you realize that someone has broken in and taken your stuff. Imagine how a Montana beekeeper felt when he entered his apiary to work his bees but almost 500 colonies were gone. Man, that’s gotta hurt.
But finally some good news from the world of bee rustling. Someone was caught. A full semi-load of bees (488 colonies) were lifted from Montana beekeeper Lloyd Cunniff’s operation while his bees visited California for almond pollination. Ag agents found the bees (estimated value $170,000) in a Fresno County cow pasture and drainage ditch. His were among ten other big bee thefts reported in seven California counties this spring.

Loading my bees in Florida for a trip to Wisconsin clovers. Nothing stolen.
Pulling off a bee theft isn’t easy. At this scale, the thief has to be a commercial beekeeper with appropriate off-road forklifts, a flat-bed semi, and some bee knowledge. You can see what loading bees looks like – that’s me on the trailer in this picture. My bees and I were preparing to leave Florida, heading for northern clovers.
Big bee thefts take two or more people, and someone is always more willing to talk than go to prison. And the stolen property is usually easy to recognize. Although most beekeepers use similar Langstroth hives, most modify their equipment, many have unusual home-made pallets, operate 8-frame, or 10-frame, or double-deeps or triple-Illinois depths. Hives could be painted white, silver, camo, or rainbow. They are unique. Once stolen, beehives are hard to hide, even in drainage canals. Someone’s going to notice. Finally, commercial guys brand their wooden equipment with a hot wood-burning tool that engraves their name, initials, or other marks. Frames, hive bodies, maybe even lids and pallets get branded.

Who owns this equipment? The name ‘MIKSHA’ burned into the wood is a clue.
My oldest brother was once stopped by state troopers while he was hauling is own bees on his own rig. The cop wanted his ‘Bill of Lading’ to identify whose bees were being trucked down the highway.
“Don’t have one. There’s no sale, so no bill of lading. These are my own bees and hives.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Well, they are all branded.”
My brother meant that all the bee equipment was branded. The trooper thought he meant that all the bees were branded and the cop wasn’t going to start checking each one, so he let him go. Besides, maybe my brother looked honest.
Meanwhile, back in Choteau, Montana, a couple hundred miles south of my home in Calgary, Mr Cunniff reaquired most of his stolen hives last weekend. He put them in separate apiaries, away from his other hives, in case they came back to him with diseases or mites. But already he has lost a lot – he likely would have managed them better than the thief had. The Montana honey season is coming soon with alfalfa and sweet clover already opening. These bees, though finally back in their owner’s hands, won’t produce as well as his other colonies will.











The wax moth sneaks into unoccupied comb or poorly defended hives and lays eggs. These become worms – larvae or caterpillars – which wriggle around on the combs, eating wax and pollen, weaving cobwebs, and crapping all over the place. They are nasty dirty. Not only do they eat your equipment, they leave behind a mess that can make you puke as you scrape and clean, then refit new sheets of foundation in the old frames. Welcome to beekeeping. The greater wax worm costs beekeepers millions of dollars worldwide in lost equipment, smaller honey crops, labour costs, and even defeated colonies that need restocked. But they have an upside.
The greater wax moth offers another bonus. For a couple of centuries, southern fishermen have set aside an old comb or two for the moths to invade, then they’d pick off the fat juicy worms for fish bait. I’m told that bass and catfish love the treats, though I have no idea how they acquired a taste for a worm that originally lived on wax combs in hollow trees. But I don’t question a fisherman’s success. I’ve enjoyed properly prepared, pan-fried aquatic craniates lured from ponds by plump wax worms.
Credit for the observation that wax worms eat plastic bags goes to
It turns out that wax worms produce an enzyme that reduces polymers to edible compounds which are no longer plastic. They evolved the enzyme during their millions of years of cleaning up diseased honey bee nests. At the molecular level, beeswax and modern polymers share a similar carbon backbone structure. Wax worms actually digest beeswax and they do the same with plastic, using the worms’ same chemicals.
Professional Canadian beekeepers know the names of honey packers Jack Grossman and Paul Doyon. Jack started
The Billy Bee man, Jack Grossman, was from Toronto. After serving in World War II, he kept a few hives behind his house. He packed honey in his garage and got into some stores. To meet demand in Ontario, he bought honey from other beekeepers. Business grew. His reputation for fairness and timely payment made him popular with beekeepers. His consistent, high-quality honey made his Billy Bee brand a big seller across Canada. Paul and George Doyon started their packing operation in 1927. I suspect that their story is similar because that’s the way you build a business. Honesty, consistency, fairness.
As beekeepers, we depended on the Doyon and Billy Bee sales. They bought Canadian honey; sold Canadian honey. In recent years, stories of McCormick importing some foreign honey for jars of Billy Bee were disappointing, but not unexpected. Honey is cheaper when it comes from countries with lower wages and possibly lax sanitary requirements. Imported honey can be good quality (though there are some horror stories), but supporting Canadian beekeepers is the right thing to do. Besides, our beekeepers use some of their honey money to buy McCormick’s paprika, cinnamon, and ground black pepper. Keeping the money at home allows Canadian beekeepers to buy McCormick products and to keep other Canadians working – building their shops, repairing their vehicles, making their skidoos. But, most important, honey produced in Canada can be readily inspected, traced back to source, and must reach high quality standards to satisfy customers.







America has 21.5 million university grads with science degrees. About 12 million actually work in science while the rest are retired or resigned to spend their working days doing more lucrative non-science stuff (lawyers, doctors, administrators). Of the several million with ‘science’ degrees who work as ‘scientists’ I would guess only 5 to 10 percent participated in the March. I’m a geophysicist. Though I wasn’t tinkering with seismic waves this weekend, I was tied up 





