Honey forecast: Lousy, reasons unknown
All outward signs pointed toward a bumper harvest of honey—good rains; nice cover of flowers, both wild and planted; mild temperatures—but for some reason we got only a fraction of the usual production this year.
The number of monarch butterflies and their more exotic cousins also seemed to be sharply down. The only bumper crop this year was a late-summer invasion of thousands of ravenous grasshoppers eating everything in sight.
Three years ago we harvested three five-gallon buckets of honey; last year two and this year only three-quarters of one bucket, or three gallons. That's pretty sad.
About a month ago, Félix and Stew checked the three hives and were alarmed to find one full, one half-full and the third completely dead. In the spring they had introduced new queens to two of the hives and one of those turned up completely empty.
Ours being a stand-alone and fairly primitive operation, it's going to be tough to determine what's caused the downturn.
We don't have universities nearby with agricultural extension services buzzing with experts as they do in the States, but there are commercial honey operations around here and maybe they'll know.
The only source of information that comes to mind now is the supplier of honey paraphernalia in Morelia, Michoacán, so we need to get Félix to call them to get the information chain going.
As to what happened to the butterflies, that's anyone's guess. Maybe nothing except our anecdotal reports.
I had read some alarmist articles from the U.S. that blamed a sharp decline in honey production and bee populations on the use some fertilizers containing nicotinic acid. The European Union had banned the use of that fertilizer.
Immediately surrounding our ranch the level of agricultural sophistication or the use of any type of chemicals has to be close to zilch. We are talking subsistence farming at its worst.
But farther afield, maybe five miles or more from here there are vast irrigated fields of all sorts of leaf vegetables, and caravans of trucks hauling them to the U.S. So maybe some bad stuff could be blowing our way and knocking out our bees.
There's not much to be done until the spring, particularly the introduction of new queens to our hives, but to start asking questions. For now all we can do is hoard the new honey for ourselves and maybe close friends—but only if they beg.
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The number of monarch butterflies and their more exotic cousins also seemed to be sharply down. The only bumper crop this year was a late-summer invasion of thousands of ravenous grasshoppers eating everything in sight.
Three years ago we harvested three five-gallon buckets of honey; last year two and this year only three-quarters of one bucket, or three gallons. That's pretty sad.
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| Much mess about very little honey. |
About a month ago, Félix and Stew checked the three hives and were alarmed to find one full, one half-full and the third completely dead. In the spring they had introduced new queens to two of the hives and one of those turned up completely empty.
Ours being a stand-alone and fairly primitive operation, it's going to be tough to determine what's caused the downturn.
We don't have universities nearby with agricultural extension services buzzing with experts as they do in the States, but there are commercial honey operations around here and maybe they'll know.
The only source of information that comes to mind now is the supplier of honey paraphernalia in Morelia, Michoacán, so we need to get Félix to call them to get the information chain going.
As to what happened to the butterflies, that's anyone's guess. Maybe nothing except our anecdotal reports.
I had read some alarmist articles from the U.S. that blamed a sharp decline in honey production and bee populations on the use some fertilizers containing nicotinic acid. The European Union had banned the use of that fertilizer.
Immediately surrounding our ranch the level of agricultural sophistication or the use of any type of chemicals has to be close to zilch. We are talking subsistence farming at its worst.
But farther afield, maybe five miles or more from here there are vast irrigated fields of all sorts of leaf vegetables, and caravans of trucks hauling them to the U.S. So maybe some bad stuff could be blowing our way and knocking out our bees.
There's not much to be done until the spring, particularly the introduction of new queens to our hives, but to start asking questions. For now all we can do is hoard the new honey for ourselves and maybe close friends—but only if they beg.
###
Something is not right. Last summer we got one apricot off of four trees. Now, my best tangerine has only two fruits. The bees are gone. I live in the center of town far away from any agriculture. It is mostly desert once one leaves the city. Something is wrong.
ReplyDeleteRobert Gill
Phoenix, AZ
Robert: I sense that too, but I don't know what's causing it. So far it's been very cold down here too, and we're not even into December yet.
Deleteal
"That's pretty sad." Are you making fun of Trump with that sentence? If so, tsk, tsk.
ReplyDeleteLike the new blog background. Don't remember what was there before, but this is nice.
As for the bees, good luck. Maybe next year things will reverse. Life happens.
Nah, I wouldn't dare make fun of our president, the one with the projectile eyebrows and the volcanic hair treatment.
DeleteI don't know what to blame for the thing with the bees. I hate to blame climate change or genetically modified what-nots, because I have no evidence to support that. But I will try to research it and see what I come up with. The farmers down the hill also had a terrible corn crop, like, no corn at all. And it wasn't for lack of rain.
Let us pray.
al
That’s disheartening news,on many levels. I hope that this is just a temporary “hiccup” and not some somber harbinger.
ReplyDeleteI'd like to think it's a hiccup except this is the second year of diminishing returns. We'll see.
Deleteal
I'd like to think it's a hiccup except this is the second year of diminishing returns. We'll see.
Deleteal