The Secret to Honey Bees' Survival in the Frigid Winters
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Time to read 5 min
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Time to read 5 min
Hi, I'm Ray, the beekeeper behind BeeLove Apiaries, with hives throughout Lower Fairfield County. For two decades, I've had the privilege of tending to honey bees, learning their rhythms, and marveling at their intelligence. Living in the Northeast, where winter can be relentless, I've developed a deep respect for the honey bee's remarkable ability to survive harsh conditions. As a beekeeper, one of the most common questions I get during the winter is, "What are the bees doing now?" To answer, I often ask, "Have you ever watched the March of the Penguins documentary?" March of the Penguins is about emperor penguins in Antarctica and how they survive the bitter cold and wind by huddling together. Honey bees use a similar behavior in the winter to stay warm, but that's just part of the story. Winter survival for honey bees is a combination of biology, behavior, and a bit of help from us, their caretakers. Let me take you inside the hive and share what I've learned.
The secret to a successful winter begins long before the first frost. Many beekeepers don't understand that the bees enter winter preparation mode at the end of June, triggered by the summer solstice. As the daylight starts to decrease, I need to support them in every way possible. At this point, the queen slows her egg-laying, and the colony's population begins to decline. This decline might sound alarming, but it's a strategic move. Fewer mouths to feed mean less strain on their winter honey stores. The bees also start evicting the drones (male bees) from the hive. It's a harsh reality, but drones don't contribute to winter survival, and every bit of honey counts.
The worker bees, all female, are the true heroes of the hive. Since spring, they have worked tirelessly to gather nectar and pollen, converting them into honey and bee bread—their primary food sources. By July, they have stored most of their honey, and it's a good time to evaluate the hives for the honey harvest. I always leave them plenty of honey by carefully managing my harvest. Some beekeepers supplement with sugar syrup or fondant, but I prefer to let my bees rely on their natural stores as much as possible.
Since all the worker bees hatching from now on are the "winter bees" that will carry the hive through the winter, they must be healthy and vigorous. I can support this by treating for pests like varroa mites. Varroa mites significantly threaten honey bees, weakening their immune systems and spreading diseases. A mite-infested hive has a much lower chance of surviving the winter, so controlling them is essential. Fortunately, there are effective organic treatment options.
The bees form a winter cluster when the temperature in the hive drops below 40°F (4.5°C). Picture a tight, buzzing ball of bees huddled together for warmth. The queen is at the center, surrounded by thousands of workers who shiver their wing muscles to generate heat. Their primary goal is to maintain the colony’s core temperature, which they regulate to keep between 90°F and 95°F, even when it’s freezing outside. It's like a living furnace, one of the most fascinating things I’ve ever witnessed. Their survival tactics are nothing short of ingenious.
The outer layer of the cluster, known as the mantle, acts as insulation. These bees endure the coldest temperatures. The bees rotate positions so no single bee gets too cold, and all have access to their honey. The bees also go into a "hypoxic" (low oxygen) state to reduce their metabolism and conserve honey and water. It’s a perfect example of teamwork and selflessness, a demonstration of how these tiny creatures work together for the greater good.
As the beekeeper, I ensure the hive is well-insulated and protected from the elements. I wrap my hives in insulated wraps, reduce the entrance to prevent drafts and keep out mice, who would love to make a cozy home in the hive. I also add an even greater layer of insulation at the top of the hive to prevent condensation from forming on the ceiling of the hive. Without that precaution, the bees might get a cold shower in the middle of the winter. They wouldn't like that any more than we do!
Winter beekeeping is a lesson in patience. Once the temperature plummets, there’s not much I can do but wait and trust that the bees know what they’re doing. Opening the hive during freezing temperatures would jeopardize the colony's survival, so no peeking allowed!
On milder winter days, when the sun peeks through the clouds, and the temperature rises above 50°F, I’ll see a few brave bees venture out on “cleansing flights.” These quick trips allow them to relieve themselves (yes, bees hold it in all winter!) and stretch their wings. A strong colony will even do some housekeeping, removing dead bees from the hive. It’s always a relief to see them, a sign that the colony is still alive and kicking.
But there are no guarantees in beekeeping. Some winters are more challenging than others, and even the most prepared colonies can succumb to the disease. I’ve lost hives over the years, and it’s never easy. Each loss feels personal, a reminder of how fragile life can be.
After months of waiting, the first signs of spring are like a balm to my soul. As early as February, the queen has started to lay eggs again, forming a small brood nest, and the bees emerge in full force, eager to forage and rebuild. It’s a joyous time, both for the bees and for me.
I'm energized whenever I open a hive after a long winter and perceive the vibrancy of the bees. The air hums with life, and the scent of honey and beeswax fills my senses. It feels like a miracle, a testament to the hardiness of these incredible creatures.
Beekeeping has taught me so much about life, resilience, and the interconnectedness of all living things. The honey bees’ ability to survive the winter is a testament to their ingenuity and cooperation. They remind me that even in the darkest times, there is hope and warmth in community.
As a beekeeper, I see myself as a steward, not just of the bees but of the land they depend on. That’s why I’m passionate about planting pollinator-friendly flowers, avoiding pesticides, and educating others about the importance of bees. Every small action we take can make a difference.
So, whenever I taste honey or use our propolis spray or salve, I take a moment to appreciate the honey bees and their incredible journey. Their ability to endure and adapt is a lesson in resilience that we can carry into our own lives.
With love from the hive,
Ray
BeeLove Apiaries
