I instinctively knew that things were off-key long before I openly admitted it. By September I began to discern subtle changes in the comforting buzzing and the fragrant smell of warm honey. The explosion of freshly produced ivory combs seemed to be in a holding pattern. That’s okay I told myself. This is the hive transitioning to the pending autumn and minimal food supply. Next I noticed fewer bees on the already constructed and pollen filled combs. This too I explained away by assuring myself that Rosie was preparing for winter by producing fewer mouths to feed. But it was the last observation that was the most sobering.

It was a breezy, warm October afternoon. I was sitting in the apiary reading as I often did, when I noticed a flurry of activity surrounding the hive. I was initially delighted. Seeing lots of bees flying in and out of the entrances and all around the periphery, encouraged me to think that maybe there had been a bit of a regeneration. Perhaps I had been imagining the lower population and this pleasant day had seduced the girls to dance a jig. Upon closer inspection, the smile on my face turned immediately upside down. I could see that the increased activity was not that of jubilant carefree honeybees; it was a raging war. I witnessed my docile little homesteaders valiantly trying to guard the entrance as robber bees swooped in and out stealing their precious honey. It was with abhorrence that I observed mid flight collisions, which resembled two bomber planes bent on destruction. My sweet bees seemed hopelessly outnumbered by street gangs hell bent on looting. In an effort to help, I screened the entrances to slow down the marauders, thus providing the protectors more time to regroup. The frenzy however continued until dusk.

The aftermath was gruesome. Hundreds of dead or wounded honeybees lay on the ground. There was no detecting which were mine and which were the foreign devils. The other heartbreaking thing was the survivors. These dedicated, delicate workers just kept going about their business as if nothing happened. They were unaffected by the mass annihilation that lay outside their window and innocently carried-on, repairing damage and searching for more pollen and nectar to replenish their violated food stores.

I can no longer wish this away, I thought. My hive has a problem. Something is very wrong.