Hungry in Winter
The stillness of a dead beehive is disturbing. What was once a box full of tens of thousands of buzzing, chirping, clicking insects — working rhythmically separately but together, breathing the same warm honey air — suddenly idle. Their hard earned heat long dispelled. The sweet ambience now stale. Hundreds or thousands of tired bee bodies, either fallen to the floor or stiff and clinging to their sisters and mother, the Queen.
For a beekeeper, a dead colony is not just disturbing, it’s also heartbreaking. The discovery always begins with “Aww, dammit…”, followed by racing thoughts and questions in search of resolve.
Here in Denver, Colorado, snow and freezing temperatures dominate our environment from October to March, which force honeybees into a dormant state. At about 45º F and below, the colony will cluster around their queen and over brood if present, and activate their flight muscles to generate heat with a cluster core temperature goal of 95º F. This activity requires strength in numbers and a lot of energy, which is why a large population and a surplus of honey and pollen are the two most critical factors for survival.
But that’s not to say a big, healthy colony with over 90 lbs of honey can’t starve to death.
Placement of food stores within the hive is the next most important factor for survival. What good is 90 lbs of honey and pollen if the bees can’t reach it during persistent cold temperatures?
When brood is not present, the cluster is able to slowly move about the hive as they eat through their food stores. But when brood is present, the cluster will remain stationary over the nursery to keep the young warm and alive. If honey and pollen are not nearby and the cold continues, the death of the colony may not be a matter of if, but when.
Pictured here is a full frame of honey (back), which was located on the other side of a frame of brood (front) — just barely beyond the cluster’s reach. Even if the cluster was large enough to reach this supply, accessing the honey could have still been an issue, as the wax caps on honey may prove impenetrable by weak bees in cold temperatures.
Imagine this: You’re curled up in a ball in the cold, freezing and starving. There’s a big jar of high calorie, high carbohydrate food just a few inches away. You’re too cold to move with control, if at all, but maybe you manage to finally grab hold of the jar. You feebly try to unscrew the lid or break the glass, but to no avail. You eventually die of hypothermia and starvation. A tragedy.
Beekeepers in the United States have consistently reported losing 30–40% of their colonies since the early 2000s — 43.7% was reported after the 2019–2020 season — and for myriad reasons in addition to or separate from starvation:
- Predation, by bears, skunks, or parasitic mites like varroa destructor
- Disease, transmitted by parasites or the environment
- Poison, applied by humans through pesticides or apiculture medicine
- Queenlessness, due to old age, queen combat, or abscondment
- Natural disaster, such as flooding, high winds, or long-term exposure to extreme temperatures
The best we beekeepers can do in the wake of a dead-out is to perform a thoughtful post-mortem, take note, and adjust our practices to improve the quality of life for the next generation of honeybees. We lost three hives so far this winter — and it stings every time — but we love what we do too much to give up.
