Napa Valley Bee Co.

It's not often that I have the pleasure of meeting true renaissance men. With a simple mission ("local people, local bees, local products"), Rob Keller and his business partner Jason Grace operate Napa Valley Bee Co., a sustainable honeybee organization that recognizes the importance of strong genetics in our local bees. I was introduced to Rob and Jason through a mutual friend after a casual discussion about many Napa residents keeping backyard bees. I was curious to find out more about issues like colony collapse disorder, as well as the basic process of apiculture. Advocates and educators, Rob and Jason were eager to share the intricacies and struggles involved in modern beekeeping. 

Photo by Meg Smith.

Photo by Meg Smith.

Aside from fighting for the well-being of our local bees, Rob is a husband and father who enjoys tending to his chickens and canning vegetables. He's also a professional photographer and artist that has exhibited across the nation and even constructed observation hives for a handful of galleries. He has a vivid memory of shipping his artwork to a gallery in New York City two days before the 9/11 tragedy — he actually pinpoints this experience as a time when everything changed for him, including his career direction. Jason joined Rob when the business was growing quickly and needed a hand with hive management, but also someone who could get involved with the financial and organizational aspects of the company. The Bee Co. opportunity allowed Jason to take a much-needed hiatus from his former work in the banking industry where he focused on lending to wineries and vineyards.

Napa Valley Bee Co. currently manages about 100 bee colonies. They are considered trailblazers of the local apiculturist movement where they focus efforts on learning and sharing their knowledge with other sustainable beekeepers. With a deep respect for bees, Rob and Jason aim to communicate to the public how important honeybees and humans are to one another. But there's a dark side to this progressive movement: they've seen an estimated 80% loss in the past year alone amongst their new colonies. Though bees have been on earth since prehistoric times, there's a very real possibility that our honeybees could evolve into something with more aggressive tendencies or cease to exist completely. With the an ever-growing list of threats to colonies — hive beetles, globalization, poor hive practices, and global warming just to name a few — Rob and Jason's extensive body of knowledge and lust for educating the masses is vital in the quest to maintain our local honeybee health and vitality. Here's more from my time interviewing the boys.

Jason in the field. Photo by Rob Keller.

Jason in the field. Photo by Rob Keller.

What inspired you to get into apiary work?

R: I’m absolutely enthralled with the social complexity of the hive. How all the bees work together for the common good, how they delegate responsibility, and how the queen is running the show yet the colony is functioning in full democracy. I love the Italian truism “Uno Apis e´no Apis,” which translates to “one bee is no bee.” This basically means that the queen can’t live on her own, the workers can’t live on their own, and drones can’t live on their own either. Teamwork is essential for survival.

J: My journey with bees sprang from another passion of mine — fermented beverages. As an avid home brewer, I became interested in making mead (honey wine) and became curious about various types of varietal honeys (lavender, orange blossom, clover, etc). In 2008, I saw a beekeeping class advertised in Napa, and Rob was teaching the class. Straight away we developed a great friendship, and he really brought enthusiasm and passion to the subject. He sold me my first colony and then allowed me to tag along on random hive inspections — an apprenticeship of sorts. During the last five years, interest in bees has been surging — perhaps the result of Americans rediscovering better quality food or the well-publicized decline of bee colonies. Whatever the reason, this has brought about a great increase in individuals and businesses willing to purchase bees and have their hives managed.

So my work with bees has been an indirect path — a combined result of pursuing an interest, a strong friendship, and my desire to work with a small local business with some contact to nature.

Rob at work in the vineyard.

Rob at work in the vineyard.

Growing up, what did you think you wanted to do?

R: From a very young age I worked at my mom’s veterinary clinics and quickly learned the trade. I was particularly drawn to exotic animals which may or may not have given me a greater foundation of understanding honeybee husbandry. That said, I thought I was going to become a photographer or at least an artist of some sort. I grew up a military brat — my dad was a commander in the Navy, so we moved every three years. Almost every military base we lived at had an amazing darkroom so my dad and I spent hours developing and printing black & white film. I ended up shooting for all my school newspapers and yearbooks and eventually getting a master’s degree in the field from UC Davis. For my thesis show I incorporated bees and have been deeply involved with them ever since.

What's the most rewarding aspect of the job?

J: Working with bees allows me to have a relationship with nature. When you think about a bee hive, you must consider many variables such as the weather, the amount of light and shade, the local vegetation, and the specific geography of a site. You also have the human element — what does the owner desire from the bees, how will they be managed, and whether people are concerned by or afraid of the bees. I like that the job is half science and half art.

R: The most rewarding thing to me is being able to make an impact on our local environment. It feels great to be able to work outside year-round doing something positive for the natural world. My hope is that Bee Co. could potentially be a job that our kids step into someday. We try to stay at the forefront of sustainable beekeeping by closely watching the bee’s clues — recognizing their signs enables us to best respond to their needs. We do our best to steer clear of natural selection and are extremely focused on propagating the strongest genetics we can acquire locally. It’s not always easy, in light of the current bee decline, to start every year from a deficit, but I’m proud to have built a business where we are still able to follow our original mission and lead by example. That’s incredibly rewarding to me.

A healthy colony.

A healthy colony.

Hive beetles. What's up with them and how did they get to the Napa Valley? Anything we can do to stop them from getting a foothold in our area?

J: Hive beetles are native to sub-Saharan Africa, where they descended from beetles which feed on tree sap and decaying fruit. They are co-evolved with the African honeybee (aka “killer bee”), which is notoriously aggressive and frequently swarms. As a result of globalization, the beetle has spread to other regions, including the continental US, Australia, and the Hawaiian Islands. The beetle harms the colony by consuming the pollen stores and defecating in the honey. In small numbers they are a nuisance, but in large numbers they can overwhelm a colony and form a collapse.

The beetles were first found in apiaries in Florida in 1998. From there, they rapidly dispersed throughout the Southeast, Texas, and the Midwest. Due to migratory beekeeping, a pest in one part of the country may be trucked to another location, as the beekeepers follow the bloom of various crops. The biggest pollination event is the almond bloom in California each February — something like 60% of the nation's managed bee colonies come to this state to pollinate this valuable cash crop. The beetle was undoubtedly brought into California for this reason. Agricultural inspectors were (partially) aware of the issue, but did not deny entry to affected bee colonies since this would have meant the financial ruin of a number of beekeeping operations and a smaller yielding almond crop.

As for their appearance in Napa, we first noticed them in the spring of 2012. How they got to our area is a matter of speculation, but they either jumped from a commercial operation or were brought in by a careless hobbyist. The beetles are strong flyers and can travel up to ten miles. My hives never left my backyard and the beetles still showed up.

There are a number of controls for the beetle, which range from vegetable oil-based traps to chemical treatments to certain mechanical-type innovations and even biological controls. None of these can be expected to eliminate the beetle, but their number can perhaps be kept manageable through some forms of control. At this point, we are trapping to assess the spread of the pest and to evaluate what can be done with more serious infestations.

In the end, the bees will have to form their own genetic resistance to keep the beetle in check. Might this mean more aggressive traits such as the ones exhibited by their African brethren? Some beekeepers have indicated this may well be the case.

A perished hive.

A perished hive.

What are the other major threats to hive colonies currently?

J: There are many ways to address this question. We could talk about acute paralysis syndrome, pesticide use, pollution, habitat loss, Africanized bees, or globalization and global warming. We could talk about poor management practices, decreasing genetic diversity, or treatments which weaken the species. All the problems faced by bees are ultimately a result of man.

The big themes that constantly emerge for me are the following:

1.) The globalized economy where bees and bee parasites are moved around the world rapidly.

2.) Our mechanized system of agriculture, which demands bees be moved around the country for purposes of pollination.

3.) Keeping bees under constant pressure as a result of items 1 and 2.

R: It’s depressing, but what I feel is one of the biggest threats to the European Honeybee is the general lack of unity between beekeepers. If everyone including hobbyists, large-scale beekeepers, honey producers, migratory beekeepers, and educators, all got on the same page we might survive the species. Mechanized agriculture is a whole separate issue that is much bigger than just the bees, but we as beekeepers can do our part by looking at the longterm effects of our management on the species. We need to stop propping bees up and sustaining them through artificial means. We are crushing them by moving colonies around on a large scale, throwing an arsenal of chemicals at them to protect our bottom line. We need to spend more time concentrating on local genetics until we stabilize the health of the bees.

Have you seen a shift in people's way of thinking surrounding the importance of bees and hives in the past few years?

J: I think most people are aware of the general decline of bees, due to the headlines in the newspapers and magazines — particularly the well-publicized issue of colony collapse disorder (CCD). More specifically, there's a growing subset of people who are interested in consuming and producing local foods. Such subjects as backyard gardening, chickens, canning, cheese making, etc. have also experienced an explosive growth in popularity. This interest has cast a light on bees, both in the production of honey and their important role as pollinators of most fruit, nut, and vegetable crops. This is where we're seeing the biggest change in the awareness of bees. As anecdotal evidence, my mother-in-law informed me that Williams-Sonoma is now selling beehive kits, which suggests that beekeeping has become trendy and has at least somewhat entered mainstream consciousness.

For a much smaller group of the population, the plight of the honeybee has brought about an examination of the current agricultural system (based on petroleum, chemical agents, and mono-culture). This brings into discussion man's relationship with bees and ethical questions about using a living organisms as a cog in a mechanistic system of food production.

For more information about Napa Bee Co. or to get involved, get connected...

web: napavalleybeeco.com » email:  rob@napavalleybeeco.com » tel:  707.486.5039
twitter: @napavalleybeeco » instagram: napavalleybeeco

Hillside Homestead

Two years ago, Susan Odom began living out her dream of homesteading — a lifestyle of self-sufficiency, practicing sustainable agriculture and homemaking. A Michigan native with roots in South Carolina, she spent seven years as a lead presenter and special events supervisor for a famous historical hotspot, Greenfield Village. Susan spent those years dressed in traditional garb, reenacting the ways of our forefathers for curious visitors. These practices still play an important role in every day life at Hillside Homestead, her picturesque home and bed & breakfast located in the quaint town of Suttons Bay, MI. Recently, Matt and I had the pleasure of visiting Hillside Homestead and getting to know Susan.

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Hillside Homestead sits on two acres of open fields and is home a pair of mud-bathing pigs, about two-dozen gorgeous free-roaming chickens, and an especially social rescue cat named Beena. The farm house was originally built around 1900 by a Bohemian immigrant named Joe Reicha and is maintained by Susan and one dedicated part-time employee — the daughter of a neighboring farmer. Staying in this cozy bed & breakfast evoked a strong sense of place for me, conjuring my upbringing on my family's farm near MI's Mackinaw Bridge.

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Susan initially stumbled upon the property while visiting a friend in the area. Though she loved the location and house, she was hesitant to commit due to the lack of acreage, originally hoping for ten acres or more. Working with a realtor, she couldn't seem to find anything that matched up, so she ultimately decided to alter the scale of her plan. When the land went back on the market a year later, she wasted no time and purchased it.

During our short stay with Susan,I had planned to read and nap, but from the moment I arrived I was so captivated by my surroundings that I spent my time engaged in conversation, taking hundreds of photographs and mental notes of her incredible stories. I learned how to make Cherry Bounce, that eggs can be stored all winter-long without refrigeration, and how to prepare currant jam. Nearly everything Susan does on her farm is consistent with nineteenth-century ways of life — from morning coffee preparation (this near 45 minute task includes cracking an entire farm-fresh egg, including the shell, into boiling coffee grounds) to cooking traditional meals on a wood-burning stove. Her aprons and dresses are specially made for her using pre-Civil War era patterns, and every piece of furniture, artwork, book, plate, and baking tool was expertly curated through estate sales and vigilant Craigslist scouring.

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I got a sneak peek into her "modern kitchen" — something she doesn't usually share with guests — where she washes all the dishes (by hand, of course!) and has plenty of counter space to prepare large-scale meals. I also had the pleasure of cooking breakfast with her — biscuits, cream potatoes, and pepper and cheese omelets. Susan even taught me the proper way of rolling out biscuits (I've been putting too much pressure on the pin all this time!).

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Matt and I enjoyed our delicious breakfast with Susan in her sunny breakfast nook while sharing stories and viewpoints on everything from vegetarianism to politics, somehow managing to drink an entire kettle of coffee. After our conversations, I gathered that Susan's motivation when starting Hillside Homestead was not only to carry on these precious traditions, but also to educate future generations about patience, the grave importance of proper farming practices, and living off the land. In the age of iPhones, Wal-Mart, and microwaves, my generation doesn't give much consideration to Susan's historical values and self-sustaining traditions. Most every ingredient used in her daily cooking is local – if not from her farm, from nearby farmers. Like in the olden days, she and her neighbors encompass a close-knit community that often trade goods and services in order to support one another. Speaking of neighbors, Susan took us to a recently opened local cidery, Tandem Ciders — just a mile-and-a-half down the road. The cidery offers almost a dozen handmade hard ciders ranging from ultra-dry to super-sweet. Each one is expertly crafted using a mix of apples farmed on their own land and sourced from other local fruit farmers. I sampled about half of them, and I hope we'll be seeing these bottles carried at Whole Foods nationwide within the next few years.

Susan is active in several educational programs in the area. Every seventh grader in the county visits the Homestead for a day and gets to experience a home-cooked traditional lunch. College-level visits with Northern Michigan University students and hands-on workshops like "Apple Butter Making" are other highlighted educational offerings.

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Part preservationist, part food historian, Susan's chosen path is a difficult but important one. I hope the future generations she is helping to educate will be as impacted by her work as I was. I hope that one day soon farmers and homesteaders like Susan will receive more tax breaks, incentives, and grant opportunities. And I hope when this happens, it will more easily enable similar projects to pop up throughout the U.S. and beyond.

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All photographs by Matt Morris, shot on a 1970s Polaroid land camera.

Triumphant Return

A lot has happened in the past nine months. A few milestones: after an incredible six-year stint, I left my full-time gig in the nonprofit arts realm, got married to the love of my life, became creative director of an up & coming hub for food and culture, and finally, moved across the country to the Napa Valley. The point is, I've been busy but starting today I'm back to regular blogging. It's been far too long! A few weeks ago, Matt and I traveled to Telluride, CO to attend our favorite film festival, Mountainfilm. Some of you may remember the in-depth post I did about this environmentally-focused festival after attending for the first time a few years back. Matt's latest short film, American Tintype, was screening at Mountainfilm, but we made sure to treat this as a vacation and truly enjoy drool-worthy views and delicious food. Now that our home base is California, we had two full days of travel by car each way and let me tell you: driving is the way to go. I'd never seen Utah or Nevada and only bits and pieces of Colorado – the landscapes in each state morph quickly but fluidly. The vast and mysterious desert, the vibrant red sandstone arches, the magical Bonneville Salt Flats, and the stunning mountain ranges...obviously, much adventuring and Instagram spamming ensued! Here's my abbreviated "best of" collection from the week.

Arches National Park in Moab, UT

Arches National Park in Moab, UT

Somewhere in the desert, Eastern Utah

Somewhere in the desert, Eastern Utah

Helper, Utah.

Helper, Utah.

Bonneville Salt Flats in Tooele County, UT   [by  Matt Morris .]

Bonneville Salt Flats in Tooele County, UT  [by Matt Morris.]

Bonneville Salt Flats, Tooele County, UT

Bonneville Salt Flats, Tooele County, UT

Colorado Countryside Horses

Colorado Countryside Horses

Telluride magic hour.

Telluride magic hour.

88 Bikes  mobile art gallery at Mountainfilm in Telluride, CO

88 Bikes mobile art gallery at Mountainfilm in Telluride, CO

W. Colorado Ave., Telluride, CO

W. Colorado Ave., Telluride, CO

Thunder Mountain Monument, Imlay NV.

Thunder Mountain Monument, Imlay NV.

Thunder Mountain Monument, Imlay NV.    

Thunder Mountain Monument, Imlay NV.

 

Upper Michigan is Pretty

Finally got around to editing photos from last month's annual family trip! After vacationing in Upper Michigan every summer for as long as I can remember, you'd think I'd run out of things to photograph, right? Wrong. For a region that has essentially escaped the progress of the modern day world, I am continually amazed by both the beauty and variety of what I witness there. Perhaps the way I'm able to see largely the same things in a new light year after year without growing bored reflects my growth as a person. These small familiar towns we visit, many of which were once-thriving mining communities at the turn of the century, are a slice of Americana frozen in time, and I will never take any of it for granted. Here are a few select photos!

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The last [epic] photo is via Matt Morris.