Super-strength Beekeepers

Have you heard of the Robo-Suit? Japanese scientists are responding to the problem of creaky-boned farmers in their country by designing muscle suits that can be worn over the farmer’s khakis. Two-thirds of Japan’s farmers are over the age of 65. And much Japanese agriculture operates on small, hand-tended estates. Not so many big tractors there. If the farmer reaches down to pluck a carrot, the exoskeleton provides back support. If the farmer holds a heavy load, the exoskeleton can straighten, strengthen, and support legs. Grape-picking farmers are provided upright posture. One prototype has eight motors, multiple motion sensors and voice recognition software that allows the user to give it commands. When the machine recognizes that a load is becoming too heavy or muscles are getting too tired, it compensates for the human’s strength with its metal and plastic frame.

Not just for building boats

They are working on this idea in Korea, too. Your next Hyundai might be assembled by a small army of bionic men. Or at least loaded onto a ship built by bionic men – the sprawling Korean Daewoo ship-building yard has begun testing human-robot hybrids. Workers strapped into a prototype exoskeleton can effortlessly lift 30 kilos (65 pounds) – about the weight of a super of honey. New models will lift almost 200 pounds. The shipyard has just inked a contract to build 10 of the world’s largest freighters (each will be nearly half a kilometre long and hold 18,000 containers). The men in suits will soon be hoisting and holding and welding pieces of steel heavier than themselves. The suit itself is heavy (about 50 pounds) but the worker feels none of that weight because the aluminum and steel frame’s mass is distributed through the skeleton down into the wearer’s boots.

The military has been watching. And for years, they have been developing their own exoskeletons. The goal is to have a platoon of soldiers trudging hours on end, carrying 200-pounds of gear, possibly even napping while their robo-suits are marching forward on auto-pilot. Special-Ops and Navy Seals are expected to be outfitted with some model of Iron Man suits by late-summer 2018. A beekeeper might not benefit from all the nifty flame-throwers and razor-fingers, but the fact that military use exists makes the suit’s reality and rapid development more likely.

Meanwhile, the other big segment of America’s economy, health care, is also beginning to see exoskeletons as a part of the rehab for patients who have suffered strokes and accidents which limit mobility. But the really remarkable breakthrough will come when light-weight, easily donned robo-suits allow paraplegics to stand and walk. This has already been accomplished in trials. In June, the FDA approved the sale of ReWalk units, a robotic system developed by an Israeli tech company. It was tested at Mount Sinai (the hospital, not the hill) by Errol Samuels, a former athlete who says getting out of his wheelchair was “like a breath of fresh air.” Indeed, exercise and mobility are tough for people forced into a sedentary life by disease or accident. This system would improve circulation and general health, to say nothing of mood and quality of life. As my own paralysis advances year-by-year (I have a motor neuron disorder, similar to Stephen Hawking’s illness), so anything that can increase my activity level is eagerly sought.

I want one. Beehive honey boxes often weigh 40 kilos (over 80 pounds). And the average beekeeper’s age is now 57. This exoskeleton-robo-suit would find a ready market in the army of honey-harvesters in North America. Imagine working through an apiary in half the time at a third the effort. The farmer’s friend has been on sale in Japan for a million yen (about $10,000) per suit, but the price is expected to drop to about $5000. For beekeepers, the robo-suit would strap overtop the bee-suit. Five thousand dollars is beyond the reach of most beekeepers, but if it eliminates back surgery later in life, it’s a worthy investment. And if you are already having trouble walking, such an outfit could keep you active a lot longer.


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The Mountain Mystery

Mountain Mystery

Not a beekeeping book

Ever wonder why the world has mountains? Where do those things come from? Ask most school kids and they will tell you about plate tectonics – the continents are moving, they bump into each other, mountains are the wreckage from continental collisions. But just fifty years ago, geologists were still thinking mountains are the result of a shrinking Earth. Or an expanding Earth. Or they would have mentioned some complicated system of deep trenches, heat, pressure, and – look out – mountains come springing up. That was 50 years ago.

The idea of mountains puzzled me, too. When I discovered that the science of mountains is about as old as I am, I thought I’d read up on the people who figured out continental drift and plate tectonics. It turned out to be so interesting that I gathered up everything I could find (about thirty books and a thousand scientific papers) and I wrote a book about the people who figured the whole thing out. The book, The Mountain Mystery, is a “people book,” not a science book, though you will accidentally learn a bit about the nature of science along the way. I’d like you to read it, then send me your thoughts about the story.

If you are among my many friends who believe the Earth is 6,000 years old, I’d especially like to hear from you after you have read this book. But be forewarned – I have been a geophysicist and a scientist too many years and the system has corrupted me into seeing the world as over four billion years in age. But science is an open book and I would change my mind in a flash with evidence to the contrary. If you are among the folks who don’t think continents can move, you might not be aware that over 2,000 GPS monitors are stuck like pins into our planet and are tracking the Earth’s movements in real-time, even as you read these words. The continents are moving. Finally, if you are among my many, many friends who are fascinated by everything in science and nature, but don’t know anything about geology or earth sciences, then this book is absolutely for you. You can buy The Mountain Mystery from Amazon – it went on sale earlier this week. By the way, honey bees make a cameo appearance near the end of the book, but this is not a beekeeping book.

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Under surveillance

honey bees

They are watching…

Alberta beekeepers have initiated a nation-wide program to monitor the health of Canadian bees. Even though Alberta has been largely untouched by heavy losses (so far), the Alberta Beekeepers Commission wants to stay ahead of potential disaster. Alberta beekeepers lost an average of 18% over this past winter (2013-2014). Tragically, Ontario beekeepers lost 58% of their colonies, according to a new CAPA publication you will find at this link. Beekeepers, according to the professional apiculturalists’ report, cited weather as the leading factor in winter losses this past year. The winter weather resulted in higher levels of starvation than normal. Secondary losses – as listed by the beekeepers managing the hives – were poor queens and nosema issues. Excluding the disaster in Ontario, the overall average for Canada was 19.2% of wintered hives lost. Beekeepers have already made splits and purchased packages and nucs to make up the losses – in fact, Canadian beekeepers are expected to operate more colonies in 2014 than they did in 2013.

The new Alberta-initiated surveillance project will yield real data about the prevalence of disease and pests across Canada. These numbers are needed to calibrate and understand what might cause bee deaths. This is part of the reason the Alberta beekeepers have begun this massive study. The work will be led by Dr. Carlos Castillo at the National Bee Diagnostic Centre in Beaverlodge, Alberta, and honey bees from all ten provinces will be sampled for common pests and diseases as well as exotic high-risk invaders. Some of this work has been done on a regional level, but never nation-wide. It will take four years to complete the project as currently designed. Important to the work will likely be factorial and statistical analysis that might collate the various factors that occur simultaneously in failing colonies. As this blog pointed out not long ago, combinations of factors very often outweigh the sum of individual problems affecting bees. In other words, a mild varroa infection or a mild nosema infection might be manageable individually, but when they strike together, the results could be bitterly painful. This sort of thing requires data, not speculation, to understand. The new nation-wide honey bee surveillance program is designed to gather that sort of data.

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Happy Dusty Anniversary

crop duster poison insecticides beekeeper bees

Killing our problems

You know what they say about new technology – someone always finds a way to put it to nasty use. Combine airplanes and chemicals, and what could possibly go wrong? Let’s fly back to 1921 and visit a grove of catalpas covered in Sphynx moth caterpillars. They are dead now, mostly because 1921 was nearly a hundred years ago and worms don’t live that long. But it did little for their longevity that the 6-acre grove of trees they once feasted upon was assaulted by lead arsenic from the air. It was the world’s first aerial dust application, the birth of crop dusting. It was hugely successful according to the Cleveland, Ohio, entomologist who suggested the scheme. The dusting killed all the bugs. All of them. And probably some rabbits and deer, too. And added to the arsenal used to slaughter bees.

The slaughter continues. A year ago, I posted a blog entry about bees killed in Florida by poisons used by one on the state’s largest citrus companies. I sent two e-mails to Florida’s Natural marketing cooperative, asking their representative how they felt about having one of their members found guilty of violating state law. That was a year ago. They did not respond to my e-mail.

I thought I’d repeat the piece from September 4, 2013. Here it is:

A bee-kill decision in Florida. According to Palm Beach’s The Ledger, beekeepers Barry Hart and Randall Foti lost $390,000 worth of bees and honey production when one of Florida’s largest citrus producers sprayed pesticides. (The loss does not seem exaggerated. For example, Foti’s honey production was off by 200 drums of orange blossom honey and millions of dead bees were piled in front of his hives.) According to a Florida state investigation, the spraying was illegal. The grower, Ben Hill Griffin Inc, was ordered to pay a fine. Of $1,500. That’s the fine?? Destroy two beekeepers, pay $1,500? It would be bad enough if the pesticide use had been legal and all those bees were killed. But $1,500 for an illegal application of poison resulting in this sort of damage? This sends the signal that one might spray whenever and however it best suits the grower, then shell out the trivial fine. The state pointed out that the maximum fine is $10,000 per instance of abuse. The state says pesticide laws were violated by Ben Hill Griffin Inc on February 21, February 22, March 8, and March 19, 2013. That would sort of indicate four violations and up to $40,000 in fines. According to one of the beekeepers, Randall Foti, every four days they were spraying where his bees were working. The insecticide application occurred while the orange trees were in full bloom. Millions of bees died.

This is all very interesting, but, as it turns out, there is much more to this story. The company accused of using the pesticides is a green, natural citrus grower, indicates Florida’s Natural Growers, a marketing cooperative. The fellow in charge is a fourth-generation grower – apparently a gentleman with a deep love for the environment, for the aquifer, for wildlife. According to Florida’s Natural website, the groves’ operator, Ben Hill Griffin IV, “prides his grove operation on environmental stewardship, as it helps to recharge the aquifer, generate oxygen, and provide a home for an abundance of wildlife. Many of the family’s decisions in the groves are made to accommodate both the health of the citrus trees and the land they grow from.” I could almost hear frogs croaking and birds tweeting as I read about the way oranges are grown by Ben Hill Griffin Inc. What I read were all very nice words and who can doubt what Florida’s Natural Co-op says? Certainly not I. So, I wrote to Florida’s Natural and asked how the company that stands accused by the state of Florida (and is ordered to pay the pittance of a fine) fits with the Florida’s Natural brand. Natural, right? If they write back, I’ll amend this blog entry with their information.

In reading the family biography and the Ben Hill Griffin company details on the Florida’s Natural website, I felt compassion for the corporation. They love the land. They must be heart-broken about the tragedy they have apparently caused. They have a fleet of pickup trucks painted in “Griffin Green.” Green. The clean color. The present owner started in the family business at age 11, “working with the baby trees in the family nursery.” Sigh. But Ben Hill Griffin Inc is a huge corporation. The University of Florida’s football stadium is named after the founder of that huge corporation. Ben Hill Griffin Jr, now deceased, was majority share holder of a company that owned the land the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad was built on – and various sugarcane, citrus, cattle, forestry, and sod farms. He was on the Forbes List of richest Americans. When he died, his $300,000,000 estate was bitterly contested in court by his four daughters who seemed to feel the one son (Ben Hill Griffin III), who was the sole trustee, had grabbed the bulk of the money, according to the Orlando Sentinel. In the newspaper’s story “Drama Ends With Heirs Splitting Citrus Millions,” they describe the fight as tabloid stuff: “The closet door swung open and out fell the skeletons…” This is not your average grove-owning family. Among Griffin Jr’s grandchildren are several Republican politicians. You might remember Katherine Harris, a Griffin granddaughter, who was Florida Secretary of State in 2000 when the ‘hanging chad’ issue contributed to George Bush’s election. Other members of the family have been in the Florida Senate and House. This is a powerful family. So it is really reassuring that their company is so anxious to do good things for the environment.

Beekeeper Foti has said that he saw empty containers of Montana 2F insecticide in a burn pile in the groves. If this is true, what does it say about one’s love for aquifers, the land, the wildlife? Or maybe empty canisters of Imidacloprid stacked in a burning pile are OK? I have read Montana 2F’s label. Surprisingly, yes, old containers may be burned if so allowed by the state, but the label also warns: “If burned, stay out of the smoke.” Always good advice. Stay out of the smoke. The label also says:

“This product is highly toxic to bees exposed to direct treatment or residues on blooming crops or weeds. Do not apply this product or allow it to drift to blooming crops or weeds if bees are visiting the treatment area. This product is toxic to wildlife and highly toxic to aquatic invertebrates.”

In issuing its fine the Florida regulators also said that in using insecticides, “The label is the law.”

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Beeman Freeman

Morgan Freeman beekeeper bees

Morgan ‘Beeman’ Freeman

Morgan Freeman is incredible. Whether you enjoyed him driving over Ms Daisy or gaining redemption after Shawshank, you likely admired the way the man can perform. I really began to appreciate Freeman when I started watching his series of science documentaries on Discovery, the astrophysics lectures called Through the Wormhole. Respect for the actor is deep – he was born in Tennessee, grew up in rural Mississippi, yet became comfortable in Hollywood. To top it off, at age 65 he earned his pilot’s license and he flies a Cessna 414. Now 77, he decided to become a beekeeper. And it’s not just a one-hive gimmick. He is keeping 26 colonies on his Mississippi farm. He’s the beekeeper. (You’ll enjoy his interview on Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show where he told us about his new business.)

So, it’s acting, flying, lecturing, and beekeeping. What’s not to like? That’s what I was wondering when I saw a Facebook page, owned by someone called JD, gushing with pride that Morgan Freeman has taken up with the bees. Facebook, as most readers of this blog know, sometimes turns into a rowdy forum with deadbeats and losers leaving their entrails and brain droppings scattered under even the most innocent of postings. Here is what one respondent replied to JD’s enthusiasm. “Freeman is a creep. Animal scat.” That was it. Nothing more. No explanation, no sources, no references. Just raw, juvenile arrogant opinion. Nothing at all to back up the stupidity, just mindless trolling rants. And this is a problem with much “social media.” Here in Canada, the RCMP have just arrested someone for allegedly bullying a former co-worker by allegedly posting crap about the co-worker, co-worker’s friends, and co-workers family on the net. The alleged bully, with over 100 charges against him, allegedly went to the trouble of creating fake Facebook accounts under the victims’ names and then, for years, he apparently wrote all manner of insult about them. If ordinary people can be attacked, how does a person like Morgan Freeman defend himself against tirades that have no substance? Why are so many people cowardly bullying and lying, while hidden behind somewhat anonymous walls? I have received my share of mail from the stupids. You, of course, learn to ignore it and you worry about the safety of the sender’s family, but it still burns up a little bit of your soul when you are hit by spitballs.

By the way, if you suspect Freeman is not really the Beeman Freeman, read on. He was asked what he is doing with the bees right now. “Feeding them sugar syrup. I mix two parts water and one part sugar.” He is also (so far) not using a bee suit in his apiary rounds. How does he keep from getting stung? “I resonate,” the new beekeeper said.

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Bee People

Bee People, rescuing a barn by killing a colony

I previewed a new beekeeping movie, something a little different. I have to give Bee People a mixed review. I’ll walk through some of what I liked, do my thumbs down bit, then try to wrap up with some overall impressions.

The good news. First – and this is a big positive – the photography was excellent. Lots of good close-ups of bees, occasionally interesting scenery, and smart, well-positioned camera angles. As a beekeeper, I enjoy seeing hives, seeing bees, seeing honey. But I also like watching people. Bee People lives up to its title with lots of interesting characters. Their interactions, though sometimes clumsily staged, are mostly genuine. A third aspect which makes the film appealing to me is the general lack of in-your-face the-sky-is-falling-in commentary. This is not yet another movie about colony collapse disorder, or the New World Order’s conspiracy to starve us by poisoning our bees, or an exaggerated re-take on the statement that Einstein is credited with, but never said. Instead, the very real and very difficult situation of severe losses of bees for some beekeepers is obliquely referenced. Sometimes such a subtle approach is more palatable and makes a stronger case. So instead, the movie focuses on a small group of Colorado beekeepers (with a brief scene in NYC and New Jersey, and a cameo of the film’s only real expert, Dr Larry Connor). The beekeepers shown are almost all newbies: enthusiastic, but unskilled.

I had three issues with the Bee People movie. These shouldn’t stop any lover of all things bee, but they stood out in my mind. First, I had trouble finding a theme, or raison d’etre for the film. I found myself asking, “What the heck is this about?” and “Who’s the audience going to be?” There is a long string of vignettes – some interesting, some not so much – but I couldn’t find the glue that was supposed to hold them together. That might have been my own problem. Others might see it as a look at people who care about bees, but for me, there is little incentive to watch a movie about people I can see anytime.

I hope absolutely no one takes Bee People as an educational documentary because this is my second criticism. Factually, the film is a mess. Although it does not play up sympathy for dying bees, there are the statements “Commercial beekeepers lose 60% of their hives every year.” and “Every time commercial beekeepers open their hives, they find 75% of their bees are dead.” Simply not true. Winter losses for commercial beekeepers have been rather high, averaging 31% for the past 8 years, but commercial beekeepers make up the winter losses from splits in the spring (or they buy queens and packages from beekeepers who specialize in such sales). Overall numbers of hives in the USA have not dropped in the past few years – there are actually several hundred thousand more kept colonies today than there were in 2006 when CCD was first reported. (And world-wide, the number of colonies has increased much more.)

But more egregious errors surface in the beekeeping practices that are shown. At one point someone shows us how to put an active hive back together without squashing bees. And does it wrong. And then sort of shrugs and says that you will always kill a few. In another scene, the Bee Guru performs a “bee rescue” which turns into a major farce. He and his friends spend 8 hours ripping open a barn which is home to a huge, thriving, well-established colony. From the dark combs, heavy propolis, and kilos of honey stored by the bees, this is a colony which clearly did not need humans “rescuing” it. They were doing just fine and likely were headed by a queen with superior genetics – the bees had lived without meds and chemical treatment for years in the barn. The landowner apparently wanted the bees out, but she herself was a beekeeper, so the removal wasn’t because she was afraid of bees. Maybe this was a “barn rescue” and not a bee rescue. Because they took so long removing the bees, the fiasco turned into a robbing frenzy with neighbourhood bees descending on the open combs lying about. This “rescue” was in September so the bees that were hoovered up had no chance to re-establish themselves before winter. Instead, the “rescued” bees were coated with powdered sugar and placed atop an established hive at a new location so the two colonies might fight it out, or possibly merge. No mention was made of the queen. I was actually sick to the stomach watching the brutal demise of the old colony.

In the last major scene of the movie, the Bee Guru flies to New York City to help the Bee Cop who, it seems, called the Bee Guru as a reinforcement to remove bees from a house. They get to the house, use a $7,000 heat sensor to locate a nest behind a wall, rip into it, and find abandoned combs, no bees. The combs were occupied by fat ugly wax worms. Bee Guru and Bee Cop both seemed surprised that the wax worms give off heat – which was what the sensor had detected. This made a rather surreal scene for the movie. The effect, to me, is simply a big Yuck! because of the webby wormy mess – with great photography – and the scene comes near enough to the end to make it one of my last mental images of the film.

My third problem with the movie: Some of the bee people showcased by Bee People seem less than endearing. I couldn’t like the Bee Guru, though I tried. He came across as rather self-assured and self-important. (To his credit, there is a clip of the Bee Guru telling us how brilliantly innovative beekeepers are, then telling himself to “Deflate, deflate.”) In a particularly strange scene, one of the beekeepers pushes on the tail end of a squat pig named Pickles, forcing her from his house – sorry, I could neither identify with this nor see how it added to the film. On the other hand, there was the Bee Medic who seemed like a nice guy, a new beekeeper, someone I could have a beer with. The Writer (Leslie Ellis) was the nicest of all and I’d gladly have two beers with her. She was enthusiastic and self-effacing and the sort of person one wants to see keeping bees. A briefly-spotlighted family of beekeepers also seemed like totally nice folks, as did a new kid beekeeper harvesting a great honey crop. Unfortunately, he was being coached by the Bee Guru who told onlookers that beekeepers get stung on the nose more than any other place. Totally untrue, real beekeepers mostly get stung on the hands and fingers. But then again, the Bee Guru was rarely (if ever) working bees without gloves, so maybe in his case it is true.

Here is my recommendation. If you are new at beekeeping, you might identify with some of the characters. If you have a friend getting into bees, you might watch this and learn that beekeepers are strange birds, but if you have a friend who is a beekeeper, you already know this. If you are looking for hints and tips or profound knowledge, that will only come from Larry Connor, near the end of the flick when he says he likes the new beekeepers who are getting involved, but cautions against becoming a “drive-by beekeeper” the most apt term I’d never heard before. Larry tells us to beware the beekeeper who jumps into the hobby, drives by the bee supply store, drives by the bee yard – in other words, never engages, never becomes a real beekeeper. That person’s bees will die. Instead, says the master, find a good mentor and make a real commitment to beekeeping. For a new beekeeper, that’s the best advice possible.


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Our Bees, Ourselves

“I’ll take one of each.”

Interesting Op-Ed column in the New York Times. Mark Winston, a senior prof at British Columbia’s Simon Fraser, wrote about the widespread collapse of honey bees. Winston is one of those super-brains who studied bees and entomology for years and has more recently stepped back to take a wide view of the big ecological picture, without losing touch with his stinging friends. He is one of the ablest of scientists to warn us (yet again) to listen to the little canaries in our cage. His aptly titled piece, “Our Bees, Ourselves: Bees and Colony Collapse” invites us to scare ourselves sleepless about the future demise of our bees – and our own species. He is right to issue the warning.

More than 120 pesticides. Dr Winston says that a “A typical honeybee colony contains residue from more than 120 pesticides.” I would never eat honey again, except the professor adds that each alone “represents a benign dose.” Great, I will keep eating honey… but then he continues (and this is the red meat in his editorial) to say that together the pesticides “form a toxic soup of chemicals.” The interplay of all those poisons affects the bees’ immune systems, leading to big problems for the little bugs, and significantly impacting Colony Collapse Disorder.

Synergy. We usually think of synergy as a big positive. “The whole is more than the sum of the parts” as Mrs Rabinowitz, my grade-nine geometry teacher used to say. One plus one equals three. No, not the new math – the new reality. Two people working smartly together can carry a 300-pound baby hippo easier than two people separately, each giving it a try. That’s all good and positive, until you start talking about bad things. Bald tires might get you to the bee yard. An icy road might be passable. But put bald tires on an icy road, and their synergy spells ditch.

Mark Winston reminds us of some of the things that synergize to hurt bees:

Monoculture – the bees don’t get a mixed diet; Varroa mites – big blood-sucking monsters; Habitat destruction – lack of diversity, soil moisture retention, and wind break; Pesticides outside the hive – fungicides, insecticides, herbicides; Pesticides inside the hive – with residues that build up in the wax; Stress of commercial beekeeping – moving hives and packing them densely in yards; Genetics – maybe Winston didn’t mention this, but inbreeding abounds; Fungal, bacterial, and viral pests – the little things that we can’t see.

My bees are tough. They can lick any one or two of these enemies. But not two or three (or 120) simultaneously. And this is where the “Ourselves” part of Winston’s story comes in. We are at risk of HCD (Human Collapse Disorder) with our unending messing with the environment. Specifically, Dr Winston points out that in humans it is known that pharmaceutical interactions can be fatal when prescription drugs are used together. We are belatedly studying this. We are not studying the same effect on people from combinations of chemicals cast about in the environment. I’d like to add that one big difference between CCD (Colony Collapse Disorder) and HCD (Human Collapse Disorder) is that the bees didn’t create their disorder.

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Cool in the line of fire

Laureen Harper bees

Someone had to put the lid back on the hive…

 Gotta give the prime minister’s wife credit. She was cool and calm. Unlike the unfortunate beekeeper/chef who was jumping around and swatting bees. Had to be sooo embarrassing for the executive chef. Just another day in the public spotlight for Laureen Harper. Why so calm? She’s probably like that all the time, but it helps that Laureen grew up on a little farm near Turner Valley, south of Calgary, where the family had a greenhouse business and kept some bees. I like that she put the lid back on the hive, keeping the bees from getting even more irritated. You can watch the video (it’s worth viewing) by going to this link. She seems a natural beekeeper – wish she had also been Canada’s prime minister for these past eight years.

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Canola – a tasteful upgrade

Canola: the yellow new food for the hungry masses

Canola is in peak bloom here this week. The cultivated oil-seed crop is a phenomenal honey producer. Canadian farmers plant just over 20 million acres of the crop each year. It yields about 100 pounds of honey per acre. If there were enough bees to collect it all, Canada would have a crop of 2 billion pounds of canola honey. As it is, we produce about 90 million pounds, but that includes alfalfa, sweet clover, fireweed, buckwheat, goldenrod, and a host of other exotics. I would guess Canada’s canola honey production is about 30 million pounds a year, hence leaving 98% of the nectar to drip to the ground for lack of honey bees. But canola is a crop that might have never existed. Except for a couple of earnest crop scientists and the magic of genetic manipulation.

Tisdale rape and honeyWhen I moved to western Canada about 40 years ago, the farmers were puzzling over a crop they called rape. Or rapeseed. The more discerning called it by its Latin name, rapa, which means turnip. A few said the stuff was big mustard, but they were wrong, although mustard seed is a distant cousin. I never liked the sound of the old name and I’m glad farmers no longer plant rape here. However, I have to wonder what happened to the old, odd sign I used to see upon entering the town of Tisdale, Saskatchewan: “Welcome to Tisdale, Land of Rape & Honey” – it was the sign that greeted me when I went to the honey co-op in that town back in the 1970s. The greeting was on that billboard because northern Saskatchewan was rife with those yellow unruly cultivars and bees made gold from their flowers. The sign, by the way, was inspirational fodder for the British band Ministry, a heavy-metal gang that released an album called “The Land of Rape and Honey” in 1988. But fortunately, political correctness and genetic engineering put an end to rapeseed.

Heart disease. Rape, as Brassica napus was known, began its domestic life in China as the vegetable yu choy, then arrived in Europe around 600 years ago. It became popular on the northern Canadian plains because it could be planted late and harvested early, beating the cold weather on both ends of the season. For quite a few years, it was used as an engine lubricant but was pushed off the market by cheap petro-substitutes. So people here started frying their perogies with the oil. When I came to be part of Saskatchewan’s landscape in the 1970s, Canadian government botanists had discovered that rapeseed – pressed and squeezed into cooking oil – contained erucic acid which caused heart disease. Rape was being phased out – worse, the government was hinting the crop might be banned by royal decree.

How to make a better oil. Keith Downey and Buldur Stefansson contravened the threatened ban by a bold move. They genetically coaxed rape into becoming canola. Canola (derived from the words CANadian OiL, A?) came about because Downey and Stefansson tediously cut the tiny seed’s endosperm from its embryo by using tiny scalpels. Then they analyzed the oil’s acids, selecting seeds that were the least erucic-ish. By 1974 the scientists ended up with a seed rich in oleic acid instead of harmful erucic. The result was the lowest content of saturated fat in any oil on the market. It was an immediate darling on health food shelves – and it found a place outside of everyone’s heart.

Not every beekeeper loves canola. Today I drove out to my daughter and son-in-law’s honey farm. I passed a few fields of canola before reaching their property, which is mostly in alfalfa and sweet clover ranch country. If they could, they would avoid canola as a nectar source for their bees. Although the honey is mild, white, and thick, it has one disagreeable attribute for the kids who are trying to make a living producing comb honey. Canola granulates, or crystallizes, really quickly. Within days. Even in pristine comb honey sections, much to the disappointment of the beekeepers. So, if someone is looking for a breeding project, perhaps canola that produces a non-granulating nectar could be the next thing to tackle.

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Hives for Humans

Hive Homes: Hives for Humanity

I had not heard of “Hives for Humanity” until yesterday when I stumbled upon an article that talked about a garden in Vancouver where an outfit calling itself “Hives for Humanity” has placed bees. The article goes on to say that the organization would like to put a few hives on various private properties, give landowners a bit of honey, and use any profits to support the endeavour. This, of course, perfectly describes what beekeepers have been doing for hundreds of years.

But it got me thinking. Why is it that only bees get to live in beehives? (OK, bees and mice and wasps and hive beetles, wax moths, varroa mites and the occasional racoon sleeping off a hangover.) Why not take the organization’s name as a literal invitation? Hives for Humanity: A hive for every human. Just like the houses in the picture above. These Turkish hive-homes seem perfect. Thick walls to keep the place cool in winter; peaky tops to hold all those TV receivers. How quaint.

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