Beekeeping faces a swarm of perils
Staff writer
A snow-covered Kansas winter is giving way to a sunny, windy spring, and one of the first creatures getting a taste of the spring air have been honeybees.
Swarms of bees appeared in the county as early as late February, when temperatures rose into the fifties before dropping back down.
Now that temperatures are rising again, bees are out looking for food.
Bees do not hibernate, according to Hillsboro beekeeper John McMinn.
“They’re always moving,” he said.
Still, cold weather keeps the creatures in their hive for months at a time. They huddle together, eat honey, and vibrate their wings to keep warm.
To increase the hive’s survival odds during these months, larvae born in fall eat a pollen-scarce diet which helps them live far longer than a typical bee — 6 months instead of 6 weeks.
McMinn said bees occasionally leave their hives in December and January, lured out by the sun and the expectation of food, before discovering nothing and going back home.
When spring comes, groups of bees head out in swarms, looking to eat and, often, to build a new hive.
“50% of the time there’s a reason why bees swarm,” McMinn said. “Either because there’s something wrong with the queen, or they got mites on them, or the hive got too crowded and a bunch of the bees leave.”
Use of agricultural pesticides has led to fewer natural swarms in recent years.
“I usually get calls all the time to come get a swarm of bees, or get bees out of a building,” McMinn said. “I’m not getting that anymore.”
Pesticides kill wildflowers, the bees’ preferred food source, and can wreak havoc on their numbers.
“There’s way too much spraying going on,” McMinn said. “They spray for insects, they spray for weeds. Used to be, you could go down the country road, even a highway, and in the spring, the ditches would just be beautiful with yellow clovers. You don’t see it anymore.”
McMinn became more animated speaking about climate change than about anything else, including his beloved bees.
“People do not realize how serious this is,” he said. “I’ve had farmers ask me: ‘John. What is going on? I don’t have no bees to pollinate my garden. I don’t have no butterflies.’ I said, ‘You guys, you’re nice. We got to have you, but you’re doing this.’”
He blames not just farmers, but the county and state for encouraging pesticide use.
“They’re not looking at the future of their grandkids, their great grandkids,” he said. “When you lose your pollinators, you lose your food.”
McMinn, a skinny man with large ears, wire glasses, and a boyish face, has had a circuitous path to beekeeping.
Though he always had an interest in bees, it wasn’t until his wife passed away and he retired from 50 years as a mechanic that he took to the work.
He began helping other local beekeepers. One of these was Jerry Dalke, a friend who possessed a large amount of hives.
In 2013, Dalke proposed the two work together on a honey-making project, and offered McMinn some hives to keep. McMinn accepted.
“I ordered a bunch of equipment, he ordered a bunch of equipment,” he said. “Our equipment did not get here until he was in a hospital, fighting for his life.”
Dalke came down with an infection; before he and McMinn could start business together, he died at the age of 67.
He left McMinn all the beekeeping equipment he had in his will.
Now in his eighties, McMinn lives alone, though his sons Randy and Rob often drop by.
He has inspired many with his dedication to beekeeping.
Randy has taken to the craft, and his granddaughter Harper has become a bona fide bee scientist, researching pollen.
Harper credited her “Papa John” as in her PhD thesis.
“I thought that was pretty cool,” McMinn said.
Many around the county come to McMinn with questions.
“I always have two or three people I’m working with,” McMinn said. “I don’t walk away after they get their bees. No, I won’t do that if they want my knowledge.”
He lists Nick and Megan Hein and Cynthia Reeh as current beekeepers he’s assisting as he looks to dispense knowledge to the next generation.
Of course, county beekeepers face problems these days with the changing climate.
“I have to have more hives to get the same amount of honey that I got 10 years ago,” McMinn said. “If I was in this for the money, I’d be out of it.”
McMinn checks in on each of his 15 hives once a week to make sure the bees have water, are healthy, have space, and are finding food.
In early spring, he sets out a bucket of yellowy protein powder, which helps the bees grow.
In a crisis, he feeds the bees pollen himself.
“Bees are like people: they have attitude,” McMinn said. “You can go out at 10 o’clock in the morning… and they can be as ornery as ornery can be. You go back two hours later, totally different.”
He’d like to increase his number of hives — he used to have dozens — but worries about diminishing wildflowers.
An increase in cover crops and reduction of farmland might help native flowers return.
But after the plains have been shocked enough, there is only so much one can do.
McMinn is certainly defeatist about the situation:
“What good does it do to shut the door when the bull’s already out?”