Author: Dr Miroslav Balchev
It is difficult to say whether the beekeeper is part of the apiary, or whether the apiary gradually becomes part of the beekeeper himself.
They are like communicating vessels. When the weather is warm, the nectar flow is strong and the hives hum with life, the beekeeper’s heart sings as well. When the bees become ill, starve, are poisoned or die, the person caring for them suffers too.
Textbooks have been written about diseases of bees. There is veterinary medicine, parasitology, microbiology, virology and toxicology.
Far less is said about diseases of beekeepers.
Yet their etiological and pathogenetic factors are so characteristic that, in a broad sense, we could speak of a kind of medicine of beekeeping. Not as an officially recognised medical specialty, but as a clearly identifiable complex of occupational, mechanical, allergic, toxicological, dermatological, cardiovascular, neurological, psychosocial and age-related problems.
The beekeeper is simultaneously exposed to heavy physical work, stings, allergens, smoke, chemicals, sunlight, heat, dehydration, dust, mould, sharp tools and fire. Added to these are smoking, alcohol, sleep deprivation, seasonal overwork and a particular occupational culture in which neglecting one’s own body is sometimes wrongly regarded as proof of strength and professionalism.
This article is about bees.
But it is also about the person who takes care of them.
Its purpose is not to frighten the young beekeeper.
Its purpose is for him to know today what life might otherwise teach him painfully twenty, thirty or forty years later.
A BEEKEEPER IS NOT BORN AT THE AGE OF FIFTY
Beekeeping is often a family occupation.
At first, the child watches.
Then he hands over the hive tool.
Then he carries the lid.
Then an empty super.
Then he hears:
“Take the other side.”
And gradually he begins to perform very real beekeeping work.
This creates a particular paediatric problem in beekeeping.
A child’s body is not simply a smaller copy of an adult body.
The bones are growing.
Growth plates are present.
Muscles, tendons and the nervous system are developing.
Coordination is improving.
Body proportions are changing.
A child can increase his strength relatively quickly and may be left with the impression:
“If I can lift it, then it must be safe.”
That is not necessarily true.
The muscles may generate a force that other structures must transmit and withstand — tendons, attachment sites, bones, joints and the spine.
Properly organised strength training in children and adolescents can be beneficial.
That, however, has nothing in common with casually saying:
“Lift the honey tin.”
“Grab the super.”
“Help load the hive.”
The load does not become lighter simply because a child is lifting it.
THE SUPER-BEEKEEPER
For the young beekeeper, the older beekeeper is often a super-beekeeper.
The man who has seen everything.
Who knows the weather.
Who knows the nectar flows.
Who understands what is happening in a hive simply from its sound.
Who can pull out a frame with one hand, find the queen, and at the same time explain how forty years ago “everything was different”.
Such a person is an invaluable teacher.
But the young beekeeper does not copy only his knowledge.
He also copies his habits.
How he lifts.
How he smokes.
How he treats bee stings.
How much water he drinks.
Whether he rests.
How he responds to pain.
What he does after work.
The older beekeeper says:
“I’ve lifted full supers on my own all my life.”
The young beekeeper may hear:
“A real beekeeper must lift full supers on his own.”
The older beekeeper says:
“I’ve been stung thousands of times.”
The young beekeeper may hear:
“Bee stings are not dangerous.”
The older beekeeper says:
“Water? After we finish!”
And the young beekeeper begins to feel proud that he too can endure.
In this way, harmful habits can be inherited together with beekeeping knowledge.
The experience of the old beekeeper should be inherited. His injuries should not.
WHEN HEALTHY BEHAVIOUR BECOMES A REASON FOR RIDICULE
The young beekeeper does not want to be stung.
He wants a veil.
He wants gloves.
He is thirsty and wants to drink water.
He wants to go to the toilet.
He is tired.
He does not want to lift an excessively heavy hive body on his own.
And sometimes that is exactly when education begins in the wrong direction:
“What sort of beekeeper are you going to become?”
“You’re spoiled.”
“Are you afraid of one bee?”
“Water again?”
“Can’t you last a little longer?”
The young person is forced to choose:
to listen to his own body or to earn the approval of the older beekeepers.
Gradually, pain may begin to mean strength.
Thirst — endurance.
A sting — courage.
A heavy load — masculinity.
Rest — laziness.
None of this has anything to do with professional skill.
Sometimes the most dangerous lesson is not:
“Do this.”
But:
“Ignore what your body is telling you.”
THE DISEASE OF THE STRONG BEEKEEPER
Beekeeping is heavy.
Literally.
A tin of honey — 23–25 kilograms.
A honey super — tens of kilograms.
A brood box.
A hive.
A sack of sugar.
A container of syrup.
A stone used to weigh down the hive lid.
A honey extractor.
Wax.
Pollen.
Hive stands.
Building materials.
Batteries.
And these loads are rarely lifted only once.
One honey tin may be:
lifted from the floor;
placed on a scale;
taken off again;
loaded into a vehicle;
unloaded;
carried into storage;
moved again.
One super may be removed from the hive, placed on the ground, moved, loaded, unloaded, carried to the extraction room and then transported part of the way back again.
Therefore, the real question is not:
“How much does the super weigh?”
But:
How much does it weigh × how many times do I lift it × from what height × how far from my body × how much do I bend × how much do I twist × how tired am I?
That is the true mechanical cost.
“IF I CAN LIFT IT, THEN I CAN KEEP LIFTING IT”
One of the most dangerous misconceptions.
The muscle is the engine.
But the engine is not the whole machine.
The muscle produces force.
The tendon must transmit it.
The bone must withstand it.
The joint must guide it.
The spine must stabilise the body.
The knees must extend the legs.
The hip joints must extend and stabilise the body.
The ankles must carry the load and maintain balance at the same time.
Therefore:
“My muscles can do it” does not mean “my whole body can do it safely.”
WHAT HAPPENS INSIDE THE BODY DURING HEAVY LIFTING
During intense effort, a person often instinctively:
takes a breath;
closes the glottis;
tightens the abdominal muscles;
stabilises the diaphragm;
strains.
This is associated with the Valsalva manoeuvre.
Pressure rises within the chest and abdominal cavity, and the torso temporarily becomes a more stable structure.
Useful for lifting.
But physiologically it is far from insignificant.
Venous return to the heart changes.
Arterial blood pressure and cardiac workload change.
During extreme effort, very high short-lived peaks in arterial pressure may occur.
This does not mean:
“Lift a honey tin and you will have a heart attack.”
It means:
a person does not always know where his pre-existing weak point is.
Arterial hypertension.
Vascular disease.
Aneurysmal dilatation.
Weakness of the abdominal wall.
Predisposition to hiatal hernia.
Eye disease.
The heavy load may be the trigger that reveals the problem.
THE ABDOMEN IS NOT A STEEL BOX
The abdominal cavity is enclosed by muscles, fascia, the diaphragm and the pelvic floor.
But there are natural passages and areas of different mechanical resistance.
The oesophagus passes through the diaphragm.
There are inguinal canals.
The umbilical region.
The linea alba.
During forceful straining, intra-abdominal pressure rises and acts upon these structures.
Not every hernia is created by one episode of heavy lifting.
There is often a congenital or acquired predisposition.
But repeated intense loading may make an existing weakness visible, symptomatic or larger.
And some hernias may lead to incarceration and other serious complications.
THE EYE ALSO TAKES PART IN THE LIFT
The beekeeper lifts with his arms.
But the body functions as a whole.
During intense straining, venous pressures in the head and conditions within the eye change.
A condition known as Valsalva retinopathy has been described — retinal or preretinal haemorrhage following intense straining.
Not every retinal or vitreous detachment should be attributed to heavy lifting.
But in people with myopia, peripheral retinal degeneration or another ocular predisposition, extreme effort is not irrelevant.
Again, the same principle:
the muscle says, “I can.” The weak point does not always give a warning.
BEEKEEPERS BECOME SHORTER WITH AGE
Look at older beekeepers.
Some seem gradually to move closer to the soil, the grass and the flowers.
This is not merely a literary image.
People really can lose height as they grow older.
There are several reasons.
One of the most important is loss of height of the intervertebral discs.
Another is changing posture and increasing thoracic kyphosis.
A third possible cause is osteoporotic compression of the vertebral bodies.
Often these processes overlap.
THE INTERVERTEBRAL DISC — A LIVING HYDRAULIC CUSHION
Between the bodies of adjacent vertebrae lie the intervertebral discs.
Each disc has a complex structure.
At its centre lies the nucleus pulposus.
Around it is the annulus fibrosus.
A healthy young disc contains a considerable amount of water.
Its matrix is rich in proteoglycans, which attract and retain water.
This allows the disc to function as a kind of hydraulic cushion.
When we stand, walk, carry or lift, the disc is compressed.
Some fluid is displaced.
When the load is removed — especially at night while lying down — some of that fluid returns.
That is why a person is usually slightly taller in the morning than in the evening.
This is a normal, reversible process.
With ageing, however, something different happens.
THE DISC “DRIES OUT” — BUT NOT BECAUSE THE BEEKEEPER FORGOT TO DRINK A GLASS OF WATER
As we age, the chemical composition of the disc matrix changes.
Its ability to retain water decreases.
The nucleus pulposus gradually loses some of its gel-like properties and becomes more fibrous.
The disc loses some of its elasticity and height.
This is often described as disc dehydration.
It is important not to misunderstand the term.
It does not simply mean:
“The person does not drink enough water and his discs dry out.”
General dehydration certainly has adverse physiological effects, but chronic degenerative dehydration of an intervertebral disc is primarily the result of changes in the structure and matrix of the disc itself.
A degenerated disc cannot be restored simply by drinking several litres of water.
WHAT DOES BEEKEEPING WORK HAVE TO DO WITH IT?
Intervertebral disc degeneration does not have one single cause.
Factors include:
age;
genetics;
the biology of disc tissue;
previous injuries;
tobacco;
body weight;
lifestyle;
mechanical loading.
It would not be correct to say:
“Full honey supers cause disc degeneration.”
But it would be equally unreasonable to ignore decades of repetitive heavy physical work.
Especially when the load is lifted:
from the ground;
with the back bent;
with the load far from the body;
while twisting at the same time;
on uneven terrain;
while fatigued;
dozens of times per day;
year after year.
A single load and thirty years of occupational exposure are not the same thing.
WHEN THE DISC LOSES HEIGHT, THE MECHANICS OF THE WHOLE SEGMENT CHANGE
Loss of disc height is not merely a matter of losing centimetres of stature.
The two neighbouring vertebrae move closer together.
The distribution of forces within the spinal segment changes.
The load on the small facet joints may increase.
The ligaments function under altered mechanical conditions.
The disc may begin to bulge outward.
Changes in one component begin to affect the others.
The spinal motion segment is a system.
A disc does not become diseased in isolation.
“SPURS” ON THE VERTEBRAE
People often say:
“I have bone spurs.”
The medical term is osteophytes.
These are bony outgrowths that may form along the edges of vertebral bodies and other joints as part of a degenerative process.
They should not be imagined as actual sharp nails that suddenly grow out of the bone.
They are part of bone remodelling in response to altered mechanics, degeneration and instability.
It is as if the body is attempting to increase the supporting surface and stabilise the area.
But this adaptation may have a cost.
Osteophytes may contribute to narrowing of the spaces through which neural structures pass.
THE INTERVERTEBRAL FORAMINA AND THE NERVE ROOTS
Nerve roots emerge from the spinal cord.
They leave the spinal canal through openings between adjacent vertebrae — the intervertebral foramina.
As a disc loses height, the geometry of these openings changes.
If this is accompanied by:
disc bulging;
osteophytes;
arthritic changes in the facet joints;
thickening of surrounding structures,
the available space may narrow.
This is known as foraminal stenosis.
A nerve root may become irritated or compressed.
The pain may then no longer be simply “back pain”.
It may travel along the course of the nerve.
Possible symptoms include:
burning;
tingling;
numbness;
changes in sensation;
pain radiating into a leg or arm;
and, in more severe cases, reduced muscle strength.
These are part of radicular symptoms.
It is important to remember, however, that an X-ray or MRI image does not always correspond perfectly to the patient’s symptoms.
A person may have marked degenerative changes with few symptoms.
Another may have relatively modest imaging findings and severe pain.
We treat the patient, not the image.
DISCOPATHY, PROTRUSION AND HERNIATED DISC
These terms are often used as if they mean the same thing, but they do not.
Discopathy is a broad term referring to pathological or degenerative changes in an intervertebral disc.
As degeneration progresses, the annulus fibrosus may lose some of its normal organisation and strength.
Fissures may develop.
The disc may begin to bulge.
With a particular morphology, we speak of a protrusion.
With more pronounced localised displacement of disc material, we speak of a disc herniation, which can have several morphological forms.
A herniated disc does not automatically cause pain either.
A problem arises especially when displaced disc material:
mechanically compresses a nerve root;
causes a local inflammatory response;
or both mechanisms are present.
Radiculopathy may then develop.
SUDDENLY YOU CAN NO LONGER BEND TOWARDS THE HIVE
At this point, the spinal problem begins directly to change the beekeeper’s work.
Previously, the person:
bends;
pulls out the frame;
lifts the super;
carries the honey tin.
Then movement gradually becomes more restricted.
Not because the beekeeper has become lazy.
But because the body begins to avoid movements that cause pain.
The person begins to protect his lower back.
Avoid twisting.
Avoid squatting.
Avoid lifting.
Gradually, freedom of movement decreases.
And when a person moves less, another problem begins.
VARICOSE VEINS — WHEN THE BEEKEEPER STANDS STILL BUT THE BLOOD HAS TO MOVE UPWARD
The beekeeper spends a great deal of time standing.
In front of one hive.
Then in front of the next.
He removes a frame.
Examines it.
Puts it back.
And continues standing.
Sometimes for hours.
But the blood from the legs must continuously return upward — against gravity.
This process is assisted by the venous valves and the muscles of the lower legs. When we walk, contraction of the calf muscles compresses the deep veins and helps propel blood back toward the heart. This mechanism is often referred to as the calf muscle pump or musculovenous pump.
During prolonged standing in one place, this pump works much less effectively.
If the venous valves begin to fail, some of the blood flows backward. This is known as venous reflux.
The pressure within the veins of the legs increases.
The veins dilate.
The valve leaflets move even farther apart.
The reflux becomes greater.
A vicious circle may therefore develop:
venous reflux → increased venous pressure → dilation of the vein → even poorer valve closure → even greater reflux.
At first, a person may notice only enlarged, tortuous veins.
Later, symptoms may include:
heaviness in the legs;
fatigue;
pain or a feeling of pressure;
itching;
swelling around the ankles in the evening;
night-time cramps.
With advanced chronic venous insufficiency, changes may appear in the skin around the ankles — brownish pigmentation, venous eczema, hardening of the subcutaneous tissues and venous ulcers that are difficult to heal.
A varicose vein may bleed.
A superficial venous thrombosis may also develop — a painful, hardened and inflamed vein.
Deep vein thrombosis (DVT) is a different and potentially much more dangerous condition and should not be confused with ordinary varicose veins.
For the beekeeper, the risk is not determined by the occupation alone.
Other important factors include:
age;
hereditary predisposition;
body weight;
previous venous thrombosis;
prolonged standing or sitting;
the individual condition of the venous system.
Beekeeping may add many hours of relatively static standing to this combination.
And here prevention is almost free.
Do not remain motionless when there is no reason to do so.
Take a few steps.
Rise onto your toes several times.
Move your ankles.
Alternate standing with movement.
During breaks, when possible, sit down and elevate your legs slightly.
Maintain a healthy body weight.
And if pronounced varicose veins, persistent swelling, pain, skin changes or a wound around the ankle have already appeared, seek medical assessment rather than waiting for them to “go away”.
Compression stockings can also be useful in certain venous conditions, but the type and degree of compression should be selected according to the individual person’s condition.
The beekeeper should remember something very simple:
The legs are not merely the supports that carry the beekeeper. They are part of his circulatory system.
SARCOPENIA — WHEN THE MUSCLE ALSO AGES
Sarcopenia is the progressive decline in muscle strength, muscle mass and physical performance, most commonly associated with ageing.
It is especially important to understand that:
sarcopenia does not simply mean “smaller muscles”.
What matters much more to the person is the decline in the ability of those muscles to perform work.
An older beekeeper may look almost the same as before, but:
he finds it harder to rise from a squat;
it is harder to step up onto a trailer;
he tires more quickly;
he has more difficulty holding a full super;
he recovers his balance more slowly after stumbling;
his reaction to slipping is slower;
his grip becomes weaker.
This is of enormous importance in an apiary.
WHY DOES SARCOPENIA DEVELOP?
There are many causes, and they often act together.
Ageing of the muscle tissue itself
With age, the number and quality of certain muscle fibres decrease.
Their ability to generate force changes.
The amount of fat and connective tissue within the muscles may increase.
In other words, one kilogram of “muscle region” in an older person does not necessarily have the same functional quality as one kilogram of muscle in a young person.
Changes in the nervous system
A muscle does not contract by itself.
It receives commands through nerves.
With ageing, motor neurons and motor units may be lost.
The remaining nerve cells compensate to some extent, but the neuromuscular system gradually becomes less efficient.
Less movement
Pain in the knee.
Pain in the back.
Fear of falling.
Surgery.
A prolonged illness.
The person begins to move less.
But muscles are maintained through use.
A vicious circle develops:
pain → less movement → loss of strength → movement becomes more difficult → even less movement.
Inadequate nutrition
Muscle needs protein and energy.
In older people, appetite sometimes decreases.
Diet may become monotonous.
There is also what is called anabolic resistance — the muscle responds less strongly to the same amount of protein and physical activity than it did in a younger person.
Chronic diseases
Heart failure.
Chronic lung disease.
Kidney disease.
Diabetes.
Cancer.
Chronic inflammation.
Long-term illness can significantly accelerate muscle loss.
Therefore, there is age-related sarcopenia, but there can also be secondary sarcopenia, promoted by disease, inactivity or malnutrition.
A BEEKEEPER CAN WORK HARD AND STILL DEVELOP SARCOPENIA
At first glance, this seems paradoxical.
“What sarcopenia? I’ve worked hard all my life!”
Physical work really does help preserve muscle.
But it does not abolish the biology of ageing.
In addition, beekeeping activity is often strongly seasonal.
During spring and summer, the workload may be enormous.
During the rest of the year, it may be significantly lower.
And there is something else:
heavy work is not necessarily well-balanced training.
A beekeeper may repeat the same movements thousands of times while other muscle groups remain weak.
Particularly important with age are:
the strength of the thigh and gluteal muscles;
the spinal extensors;
trunk stability;
the muscles responsible for balance;
grip strength.
SARCOPENIA + OSTEOARTHRITIS + PAIN = EVEN LESS MOVEMENT
These processes rarely exist in isolation.
The knee hurts.
The person stops squatting.
The thigh muscles weaken.
The knee becomes even less stable.
The lower back hurts.
The beekeeper begins to avoid movement.
The muscles that stabilise the spine become weaker.
The person gradually loses physical reserve.
This may not be obvious in daily life.
But suddenly he must catch a falling hive body.
Keep his balance on a slope.
Step down from a trailer.
Carry a heavy load across uneven ground.
That is when the lack of reserve becomes apparent.
SARCOPENIA AND FALLS
A young person stumbles.
Within a fraction of a second, the muscles respond.
He takes a step.
Grabs something.
Recovers his balance.
In an older beekeeper, the same event may develop differently.
The reaction is slightly slower.
Muscle strength is lower.
Balance is less secure.
Vision may be poorer.
Now add:
uneven terrain;
grass;
mud;
a hose;
a stone;
a step;
a trailer;
a heavy object in the hands.
The risk of falling increases.
And the consequences for an older person may be considerably more serious.
SARCOPENIA AND OSTEOPOROSIS — A DANGEROUS COMBINATION
Osteoporosis means reduced bone strength.
Sarcopenia means reduced muscle strength and function.
When they coexist:
the person falls more easily;
the bone fractures more easily.
The risks therefore reinforce one another.
Particularly serious are fractures of the femoral neck and vertebral compression fractures.
WHEN IT IS NOT THE DISC, BUT THE VERTEBRA ITSELF THAT BECOMES SHORTER
Loss of height with ageing is not due only to the intervertebral discs.
In osteoporosis, the vertebral bodies may develop compression fractures.
These do not always look like a classic injury:
I fell → I fractured a vertebra.
Sometimes a weakened vertebra gradually deforms or collapses following relatively minor loading.
It may become wedge-shaped.
Its anterior portion loses height.
If this happens to several vertebrae, thoracic kyphosis increases.
The person becomes more stooped.
And genuinely shorter.
Sometimes vertebral compression fractures cause pain.
At other times they may remain undiagnosed for a long period.
Therefore, significant loss of height in an older person should not automatically be dismissed as:
“Well, that’s age.”
Sometimes it deserves medical investigation.
WHY DOES AN OLDER PERSON BEND FORWARD?
A stooped posture may have many causes.
Disc degeneration.
Facet joint changes.
Osteoporosis.
Wedge deformities of the vertebrae.
Pain.
Sarcopenia.
Weakening of the muscles that extend the spine.
Thoracic kyphosis gradually increases.
The head and shoulders move forward.
In order not to fall, the body must continually compensate for the altered position of its centre of gravity.
This itself increases muscular effort and fatigue.
Another vicious circle develops.
Pain → I bend forward → mechanics change → muscles work under less favourable conditions → I tire → I bend forward even more.
THE BEEKEEPER AGES. THE HIVE DOES NOT.
This is one of the fundamental gerontological problems of beekeeping.
When the beekeeper is thirty years old, a full super may weigh 25 kilograms.
When he is seventy, the super still weighs approximately 25 kilograms.
But the beekeeper is no longer the same.
Muscle strength may have declined.
Reactions may be slower.
The joints have changed.
The discs have lost some of their height.
There may be osteophytes.
Stenosis.
Osteoporosis.
Sarcopenia.
Poorer balance.
Reduced vision.
Lower cardiovascular reserve.
Therefore, the organisation of the apiary must age together with the beekeeper.
Smaller hive bodies.
Smaller loads.
Trolleys.
Manual or electric lifting devices.
Ramps.
An assistant.
Well-organised storage.
Minimal carrying.
Mechanisation is not an admission of weakness.
It is an admission of common sense.
MIGRATORY BEEKEEPING — THE NECTAR FLOW MOVES, AND SO DOES THE WEIGHT
Migratory beekeeping appears economically attractive.
Acacia.
Linden.
Sunflower.
More honey.
But the physiological calculation looks different:
lift;
carry;
load;
secure;
unload;
arrange;
and a few weeks later — again.
With tens or hundreds of colonies, these movements multiply.
The young beekeeper calculates:
how many kilometres;
how much fuel;
what nectar flow;
what yield.
He less often calculates:
how many total tonnes of load will pass through his hands, knees and spine during one season.
Mechanisation is not a luxury.
Sometimes the most expensive lifting device is the one a person buys after surgery.
HONEY IS HEAVY IN THE FINGERS TOO
The beekeeper grips the frame with his fingertips.
Pulls it out.
Lifts it.
Holds it.
Turns it.
Tilts it.
Inspects it.
Returns it.
Then the next one.
And the next.
Thousands of repetitions.
Thus the fingers, wrists, elbows and shoulders become occupationally loaded structures.
The knobbly, deformed fingers of some elderly beekeepers may be the result of osteoarthritic changes.
We should not automatically say:
“The frames caused the osteoarthritis.”
Osteoarthritis is a multifactorial disease.
But decades of repetitive forceful gripping and manipulation of heavy frames may be part of the mechanical load imposed on the hand.
BEE STINGS — OCCUPATIONAL PRIDE OR OCCUPATIONAL RISK?
Some beekeepers almost take pride in saying:
“I was stung ten times today.”
“It doesn’t affect me anymore.”
But a sting is a defensive reaction by the bee.
When a worker bee stings a human, it usually leaves its sting apparatus behind and subsequently dies.
An unnecessary sting therefore has a cost for the bee as well.
For humans, most stings result only in local pain, redness and swelling.
But beekeepers are a highly exposed group.
Hundreds of previous stings without complications are not an absolute guarantee that the next sting will also be harmless.
Sensitisation and systemic allergic reactions may occur.
An allergy to bee venom should not be confused with an allergy to honey, propolis, royal jelly or pollen.
Signs of anaphylaxis require immediate medical attention.
THE EVER-SMOKING BEE SMOKER
The smoker is part of the traditional image of beekeeping.
We are so accustomed to it that we stop noticing the smoke.
It smokes beside the first hive.
The tenth.
The fiftieth.
The wind changes direction.
Smoke enters under the veil.
The beekeeper moves.
Then he finds himself in the smoke again.
And this may continue for hours.
Combustion products do not become harmless simply because the fuel is wood, herbs, fungus, shavings or another “natural” material.
Combustion may generate fine and ultrafine particles, carbon monoxide and various organic compounds.
It would not be scientifically correct to state without evidence:
“The bee smoker causes lung cancer.”
But it is entirely reasonable to say:
long-term inhalation of smoke represents an unnecessary occupational exposure and should be reduced.
The smoker should serve the beekeeper.
The beekeeper should not serve as the smoker’s filter.
TABAKISM
We usually speak of “smoking” or “tobacco smoking”.
But these words describe an action.
When dependence exists, we are already dealing with disease.
Therefore, in this article we use the author’s term:
TABAKISM
to describe tobacco dependence combined with chronic exposure to nicotine and the toxic products of tobacco smoke.
Official medicine uses terms such as nicotine dependence and tobacco dependence.
There is no reason to romanticise a disease as a mere “bad habit”.
A younger beekeeper once said:
“My father and I start working in the apiary — I begin at one end, he begins at the other. Whoever reaches the middle first stops and lights a cigarette.”
These two sentences contain an entire mechanism of dependence.
The cigarette becomes:
a reward;
a break;
a ritual;
a competition;
communication between father and son.
Nobody needs to say:
“Learn to smoke.”
It is enough for the model to become:
work → achievement → rest → cigarette.
In this way, disease can also be transmitted culturally.
There are even elderly beekeepers who take pride in not using a smoker, but instead smoking the bees with cigarette smoke exhaled from their own lungs.
That is not beekeeping expertise.
It is dependence transformed into technology.
“A DRINK AFTER WORK”
After heavy work:
“Let’s have one.”
If it is an occasional social event, that is one thing.
If it becomes a mandatory part of every working day, dependence must also be considered.
The combination is particularly unfavourable:
heat + physical exertion + dehydration + alcohol.
And to this may be added a car, trailer, heavy loads, fire and tools.
Alcohol is not a means of rehydration.
Nor is it an obligatory reward for a job well done.
“WHEN I GET CAUGHT UP IN THE WORK, I FORGET TO DRINK WATER”
This is a very beekeeper-like sentence.
You begin with the first hive.
Then the second.
Then you notice something interesting in the third.
Then you have to help the fourth.
And suddenly hours have passed.
Meanwhile:
the sun is shining;
the muscles are producing heat;
the person is sweating;
the suit and veil interfere with heat loss.
With dehydration, plasma volume decreases and both circulation and thermoregulation become more difficult.
Symptoms may include:
thirst;
fatigue;
headache;
palpitations;
reduced concentration;
weakness.
Severe heat stress may lead to heat exhaustion, collapse and heat stroke.
Water should therefore be part of the beekeeper’s equipment.
A large bottle placed somewhere visible and easily accessible changes behaviour.
Water should not be:
“In the car if I need it.”
It should be within reach.
During prolonged heavy sweating, electrolytes and food must also be considered.
“HOLD IT UNTIL WE FINISH”
The veil is on.
The suit is zipped.
There is no toilet nearby.
Only a few more hives remain.
And the person suppresses the urge to urinate.
Occasionally postponing urination does not normally constitute a disease.
But systematically ignoring a physiological signal is a poor occupational habit.
Especially in people with urological disease and in older men.
Work organisation should allow a person:
to drink;
to urinate;
to rest.
This is not weakness.
It is physiology.
GLOVES — PROTECTION THAT ALSO REQUIRES CARE
Gloves protect.
But inside them a particular microclimate may develop:
warm;
humid;
dark;
with limited evaporation.
The skin becomes macerated.
Its barrier may be impaired.
With repeated use, sweat, propolis, dust and other contaminants may remain inside.
This creates conditions that, in a susceptible person, may contribute to dermatitis and infection.
Fungal infections of the skin and nails are multifactorial and should not automatically be labelled an “occupational disease of beekeepers”.
But heat, humidity, occlusion and microtrauma are factors that should not be ignored.
A glove does not merely need to be worn.
It also needs to be dried and maintained.
PROPOLIS CAN ALSO BE AN OCCUPATIONAL ALLERGEN
The beekeeper sees propolis as a valuable product.
But daily contact can lead to sensitisation in some individuals.
Contact dermatitis of the hands is a genuine occupational problem.
Redness.
Itching.
Cracking.
Scaling.
Chronic eczema.
It should not simply be dismissed as:
“It’s from the work.”
Precisely because it may be caused by the work, we need to determine what exactly is causing it.
SUNLIGHT, FIRE, ACIDS, DUST AND TICKS
An apiary is not an air-conditioned laboratory.
The beekeeper works under ultraviolet radiation.
With a smoker.
With hot wax.
With organic acids.
With veterinary products.
With wire.
With nails.
With knives.
With dust and mould.
In tall grass.
“Natural” does not mean safe.
A first-aid kit, water and protective equipment are part of the beekeeper’s tools.
WHEN THE BEEKEEPER IS ILL, THE APIARY SUFFERS
The beekeeper constantly diagnoses his bees.
The brood.
The queen.
The food stores.
Varroa.
Behaviour.
But he diagnoses himself far less often.
The ill beekeeper postpones inspections.
The person with back pain does not lift the hive body.
The overheated beekeeper makes mistakes.
The exhausted beekeeper misses signs.
The beekeeper with one hundred colonies but enough strength for fifty begins to perform only half the necessary work for all of them.
In this way, the health of the human gradually becomes a factor in the health of the bee colony.
THE BEE COLONY BECOMES ILL AS AN ORGANISM
An individual bee is an organism.
But the colony functions as something more.
The queen ensures reproductive continuity.
The workers are the locomotor, feeding, heating, ventilating and defensive systems.
The brood is the future.
Honey and pollen are reserves.
The combs are home, storage and history.
A bee colony often does not die from one factor.
Varroa.
A virus.
Starvation.
A poor queen.
A pesticide.
Drought.
A beekeeper’s mistake.
Each factor individually may be overcome.
Together, they can weave the rope.
Bee disease is often not a bullet, but a rope woven from many strands.
VARROA DESTRUCTOR — THE DISEASE OF FALSE REASSURANCE
Varroa is not simply a mite sitting on a bee.
It reproduces in sealed brood, damages developing bees and is closely associated with viral infections.
When bees with deformed wings are already visible, the problem is not beginning.
It is already advanced.
One dangerous statement is:
“There isn’t much Varroa in my apiary.”
Especially when this conclusion has been reached without measurement.
Proper management requires assessment of infestation, appropriate timing of treatment, correct dosage and follow-up after treatment.
Seeing mites fall after treatment proves that mites were present.
The more important question is:
how many remain?
AMERICAN FOULBROOD
The causative organism, Paenibacillus larvae, forms highly resistant spores.
They may remain for a long time in combs, honey, wax and equipment.
This is a disease in which improvised treatment and concealment may harm far more than one apiary.
Suspicious brood cannot be diagnosed from a single photograph.
Nor from smell alone.
When there is suspicion, appropriate diagnosis and relevant disease-control measures are required.
American foulbrood is not merely a veterinary problem.
It is also a test of professional integrity.
EUROPEAN FOULBROOD
European foulbrood is primarily associated with Melissococcus plutonius and mainly affects unsealed larvae.
But the pathogen is not the whole story.
Other factors matter:
the condition of the colony;
nutrition;
stress;
climate;
colony strength;
hygienic behaviour;
the queen.
The pathogen matters.
But so does the terrain on which it acts.
NOSEMA DISEASE — THE DISEASE THAT DOES NOT ALWAYS SHOUT
Nosema disease can be dramatic.
But it can also slowly exhaust a colony.
Reduced vitality.
Shorter lifespan.
Poor development.
Poor utilisation of nectar flows.
Faecal staining may draw attention to the problem, but its absence does not exclude the disease.
When definite identification is required, laboratory diagnosis is more reliable than impression.
VIRUSES — THE INVISIBLE ACCOMPLICES
Various viruses may circulate within bee colonies.
The presence of a virus does not necessarily mean visible disease.
The relationship with Varroa is particularly important.
Therefore, the request:
“Give me something for the virus”
is often the wrong direction.
Far more important may be:
Varroa control;
the queen;
nutrition;
hygiene;
reduction of unnecessary stress.
Not every disease is treated with something poured into the feeder.
FUNGI IN BEES — AND FUNGI IN BEEKEEPERS
In chalkbrood, larvae may become characteristic mummies.
Humidity and chilling of the brood can contribute to the manifestation of the disease.
Stonebrood is associated with fungi of the genus Aspergillus.
There is an interesting symmetry.
Fungi take advantage of a suitable environment.
A damp hive creates one.
Persistently moist human skin creates another.
In bees and humans alike, controlling the environment is part of prevention.
NOT EVERY PATCHY BROOD PATTERN IS FOULBROOD
Not every weakening is Nosema disease.
Not every crawling bee proves the presence of one particular virus.
Not every dead bee is evidence of pesticide poisoning.
Not every patchy brood pattern is foulbrood.
The same symptom may have different causes.
And a colony may have several problems simultaneously.
A good beekeeper is not the person who knows every diagnosis by heart.
A good beekeeper also knows the limits of his own knowledge.
STARVATION DOES NOT ALWAYS LOOK LIKE AN EMPTY HIVE
A colony may have honey and still die from starvation if the winter cluster cannot reach it.
It may have carbohydrate food but suffer from protein deficiency.
It may appear strong in autumn but be physiologically unprepared for winter.
Sugar syrup is a tool.
But it is not equivalent to the full natural diet of the bee colony.
Sometimes starvation is a full storehouse in which the necessary thing is missing.
POISONING
Acute pesticide poisoning may leave large numbers of dead bees in front of the hive.
But subtler manifestations may also occur:
impaired orientation;
loss of foraging bees;
weakening;
behavioural changes.
Not every death following pesticide application automatically proves poisoning.
And not every genuine poisoning leaves a huge carpet of dead bees.
When poisoning is suspected, evidence must be collected quickly and correctly.
PARASITES, PREDATORS AND NEW INVADERS
Wax moths usually take advantage of weakness.
But invasive pests present a different problem.
Small hive beetle.
Tropilaelaps.
Invasive hornets.
With a new pest, the first cases are the moment when a response matters most.
Silence in the name of:
“Let no one find out”
may turn a local problem into a regional one.
DISEASES OF THE BEEKEEPER’S MIND
Not every disease in the apiary has a microscopic cause.
Hiveomania
Five hives become ten.
Ten become fifty.
Fifty become one hundred.
“If I can manage fifty, I can manage one hundred.”
But one hundred colonies are not simply twice fifty.
They may all require work at the same time.
One hundred hives increase not only the yield.
They also increase the risk.
The disease of “one more treatment”
The colony is not doing well.
“What should I give it?”
A treatment.
An acid.
Vitamins.
Herbs.
A stimulant.
But sometimes the problem is:
an old queen;
Varroa;
starvation;
too much space;
too few bees;
viral pressure.
Treatment without diagnosis can turn the hive into a chemical laboratory.
Diagnosis by preference
The most convenient explanation is the one that does not blame the beekeeper.
The weather.
The farmer.
The breed.
The neighbour.
“Some virus.”
Sometimes the cause really is there.
Sometimes it is delayed Varroa control, an old queen or inadequate food stores.
Self-blame does not help.
But without honest analysis, a mistake can easily become a standard method.
Secrecy mania
Some beekeepers hide their yield.
Their prices.
Their techniques.
And sometimes their diseases.
Bees do not know where property boundaries end.
They drift.
They rob.
They carry mites and pathogens.
A dangerous infectious disease is not a trade secret.
Nostalgitis
“In the old days we didn’t have diseases like these.”
We did.
Some were simply not diagnosed.
But the world is changing too.
The movement of bees and queens is enormous.
The climate is changing.
Land use is changing.
New invasive species are appearing.
The past is a teacher.
It is not a laboratory result.
THE DISEASE OF CHEAP HONEY
The beekeeper sells cheaply.
Then compensates by keeping more hives.
More hives mean:
more lifting;
more travelling;
more treatments;
more time;
less attention for each colony.
And an economic problem can gradually become a health and veterinary problem.
A low selling price may mean:
not hiring an assistant;
not buying a trolley;
not paying for a laboratory test;
not replacing old equipment.
Sometimes the price of cheap honey is paid by the beekeeper’s spine.
THE RECORD BOOK IS THE MEDICAL HISTORY OF THE HIVE
Memory lies.
“That queen was probably good.”
“I think I treated this hive.”
“This colony was probably weak.”
Records allow us to track:
queens;
treatments;
Varroa;
swarming;
feeding;
movement of combs;
winter losses.
Without records, the same mistake can repeatedly appear to be a new problem.
THE BEEKEEPER IS PART OF BIOSECURITY
Hygiene is not merely scorching the hive tool.
It is organisation.
Healthy colonies should be inspected before suspicious ones.
Equipment from a suspicious hive should not circulate freely through the rest of the apiary.
A weak colony of unknown status should not automatically be united with a healthy one.
Combs of unknown history should not be distributed indiscriminately.
A cheap second-hand hive may be cheap only at the moment of purchase.
Together with it, one may also buy somebody else’s epidemiological history.
WHAT DOES A HEALTHY BEEKEEPER LOOK LIKE?
A healthy beekeeper is not the person who never becomes tired.
Not the person who can lift the heaviest hive body alone.
Not the one with the most bee stings.
Not the person who can work all day without water.
A healthy beekeeper is a person who has organised his work in such a way that he has a chance of still doing it twenty years from now.
He observes before treating.
Measures instead of guessing.
Keeps records.
Does not hide dangerous disease.
Does not lift alone what can be moved mechanically.
Is not ashamed of using a trolley.
Is not ashamed of asking for help.
Drinks water.
Urinates when his body tells him to.
Rests.
Protects his eyes and skin.
Does not treat a sting as a medal.
Does not make the cigarette part of beekeeping technology.
Does not make alcohol an obligatory end to the working day.
Maintains muscle strength and balance even outside the active beekeeping season.
Eats in a way that gives his body the materials needed to maintain muscle and bone.
When faced with unexplained loss of height, new severe back pain, increasing weakness, numbness, frequent falls or significant limitation of movement, he does not simply say:
“Well, that’s age.”
He looks for the cause.
He knows when the bee needs veterinary help.
And he knows when he himself needs a doctor.
ONE COMMON DIAGNOSIS
Bees and beekeepers have different anatomy.
Different diseases.
Different doctors.
But they share one vulnerability:
OVERLOAD
A bee colony can tolerate a certain level of Varroa.
It can survive several days of bad weather.
It can temporarily endure a shortage of nectar.
But when the following occur together:
Varroa;
viruses;
starvation;
drought;
pesticides,
the reserve is exhausted.
Something similar happens to the beekeeper.
One honey tin.
One sting.
One hot day.
One sleepless night.
One cigarette.
One drink.
One episode of back pain.
One disc that has lost a little height.
One weakened muscle group.
Individually, they may seem insignificant.
But when they repeat and accumulate over decades, they may become disease.
The beekeeper often looks for the cause of a problem inside the hive.
Sometimes he must also look on the other side of the frame.
At himself.
WHY ARE WE WRITING ALL THIS?
Not to make beekeeping frightening.
Not to tell a young person:
“Do not lift.”
“Do not work.”
“Protect yourself from everything.”
Beekeeping is physical work.
The human body is made to move and work.
But there is an enormous difference between loading and overloading.
Between strength and recklessness.
Between professional experience and professional stubbornness.
Between:
“I can.”
and:
“Should I?”
A young beekeeper does not need to develop a herniated disc in order to learn what an intervertebral disc is.
He does not need to reach seventy before learning what sarcopenia means.
He does not need to watch the centimetres disappear from his height before learning that the spine ages too.
He does not need his first anaphylactic reaction to teach him that a bee sting is not a medal.
He does not need heat collapse to teach him to carry water.
He does not need cancer to teach him what tobacco smoke is.
Knowledge has value precisely when it comes before the consequence.
In the end, one simple question remains:
What is the point of keeping the bees healthy if, in the process, we destroy the beekeeper?
Bees need a healthy beekeeper.
And the young beekeeper needs the older beekeeper not only to learn when the acacia blooms, how to find the queen and when to add a super.
He also needs him to learn how a person can remain a beekeeper for a long time.
Because the best inheritance from the old beekeeper is not the ability:
to carry more;
to endure more;
to remain silent longer.
It is the ability to understand the bees, nature and the limits of one’s own body.
The beekeeper ages. The hive does not.
That is why beekeeping must learn to age wisely together with the beekeeper.
