After a few quick pleasantries in broken Portuguese, Lance awkwardly mounted the donkey, while the Macumba maintained the tangled rope around the poor creature’s neck. In lockstep they lumbered into the dense forest that Lance had spotted from the sky. The heat appeared to dissipate as they moved under the roof of fauna, only to be replaced by a cold, clammy feeling. Lance felt every fabric fiber glued to his skin. He checked his watch again, as he rocked himself back and forth in a subconscious effort to urge the donkey to move faster. With great relief, the Macumba stopped at last and dismounted. Lance followed suit as inelegantly as he had climbed on. Without realizing he was standing in an ancient ruin, he noted the half-structured, stone buildings scattered about, covered by an overgrown jungle.
“Where are we?” he asked, impelled by the eerie graveyard feel.
“This is the place of our most ancient pharmacy, and I am the oldest ethnopharmacologist in the Amazon. My father, the greatest of Macumbas, brought me here as a mere child, over a hundred years ago.”
“Excuse me, but how old are you?”
“I believe around one-hundred-sixteen years old.” The Macumba waved his arms through the air to dismiss a trivial point and then stated with great pride, “You’re surrounded by cures that treat all diseases.”
“What diseases?”
“All,” the Macumba repeated.
Lance’s expression questioned his response, but the witch doctor piqued his curiosity.
“We Macumbas understand the medicinal uses of the various plants and use them in miraculous ways. Each one of us have our own specialty, our own combination of plants and species we harvest from this forest. We do not share our secrets with the outside world, but our way of life is being challenged.”
“Challenged, how?”
“More researchers arrive in Novo Airão, desperate to understand our therapeutic uses. Their hearts may be present, but their footprints are destructive. So far, we have kept them from this sacred forest, but each year it becomes more difficult. Look around. There are over a hundred species of plants and over fifty animals we use, many of which can only be found here—in this ancient ground. Do you understand our hesitancy to share our ways?”
“Yes,” Lance replied. He imagined what would become of this place if there were a foreign invasion, but the clock was ticking. “But that doesn’t explain why I’m here.”
“Stay. I will return.”
The Macumba walked away and headed for one of the stone ruins. From Lance’s vantage point it appeared to be well intact, compared to the other structures. At least the surrounding stones resembled walls. He checked his watch. By his estimation, he had twenty minutes left until the threatened takeoff. He became jittery. He was thankful the Macumba left the donkeys although he had no clue how to get out of the forest. Again, feeling trapped, he refocused on his sticky clothing and the thick air. Then, he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. The Macumba had returned.
Sorenson was hovering in the shade on the riverbank when he saw Lance walking toward him carrying a sizable black box. He must have missed the Macumba dropping off Lance while he was enjoying the end of his chain of cigs. “Let’s move it!” he shouted.
As they flew back to Manaus, Sorenson noticed that Lance’s eyes maintained a constant vigil over the cargo in his lap, seemingly afraid to let it out of his grasp. The rest of the flight lapsed in silence until they pulled into the old hangar.
“Now you know your mission.” Sorenson stated.
Lance did not respond.
“Let’s get you back to the hotel; you look exhausted.” For the first time, Sorenson offered a sympathetic tone.
“What time tomorrow morning?” Lance asked.
“I’ll pick you up at eight sharp. Your flight leaves for Monterrey at ten.”
“Monterrey! Is this caper going to end soon?”
“When you arrive, you’ll be instructed on where to cross at the Mexican border. A select group of beekeepers will be waiting for you to deliver the package. A few more hours after that it will be over.”
Lance was tiring of the cloak and dagger mission and was more than ready to go home. But he had learned from the Macumba the vital importance of carrying out his assignment.
“See you at eight.”
Chapter 2
The Annual Meeting
“Please, everyone; settle down.”
The chairman gave the members an opportunity to take their seats before starting the meeting. Although the jam-packed room left many with standing room only, as the confab of beekeepers and honey producers from across the US was about to commence. The chairperson for the annual event was decided on a rotating basis, mostly a ceremonial gesture, although many of the beekeepers were also honey producers. Even some members belonged to both organizations. But this year, the official honor went to the President of the American Honey Producers Association.
“I call this meeting to order!” he called out, lowering the gavel onto the wooden podium several times with force.
The sound in the room within minutes drifted into silence.
“First, let me welcome our colleagues from the American Beekeeping Federation, along with all directors representing the State Delegates Assembly. It has been a tumultuous year for all of us with the wretched fires in the West and the record storms across our nation. Our winter was quite a doozy and may prove to be one of the worst for colony losses in a long time. But let’s get cracking and see where we stand. Secretary Tillis, please review the latest stats for honey production.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Per the US Department of Agriculture’s latest statistics, they reported that honey production in 2016 was up three percent, totaling one-hundred-sixty-two-million pounds. The harvest of honey came from two-point-seven-eight-million colonies; up four percent since 2015. But honey prices in the U.S. were $207.05 per pound, down only slightly from 2015 at $208.03. We’re still tallying this year’s stats, but we’ve already received reports from various honey producers and pollinators alike, that the Thomas Fire in California added to massive losses. The heat alone destroyed the wax inside many of the frames from the hives and had an adverse effect on the bees, but the incineration of more than two thousands bee hives was devastating.”
“Thank you, Secretary Tillis. And you’re right about the Thomas Fire. Let’s not forget the other fires that scourged California this year. The damage will be untold, including the thousands of acres of sage, buckwheat and other plants that burned to the ground. The bees have lost a great deal of excellent forage that will takes years to regrow,” the chairman lamented, as he thought about how close he had come to the fire line. “Now, Hal,” he redirected, “I understand you want to bring us up to date on CCD.”
Dr. Harold Johnson, was an oncologist by training, with a PhD in entomology. He was exceptional, if not overqualified, as the president of the American Beekeeping Federation. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Chairman. I’m sorry to say, like Secretary Tillis’s report, mine is also bittersweet.” Hal turned to face the membership. “Most of us here have unfortunately experienced the destructive Colony Collapse Disorder when many of our worker bees disappear leaving the queen and the young behind. It’s had a grave effect on our industry. We are, however, making some headway in staving off the honey bee’s invasive pests: the varroa mite and tracheal mites, along with other diseases. But the greatest threat to our bees is exposure to certain pesticides. In fact, it has never been more difficult to keep our bees alive and healthy than it is today.”
One delegate shouted out, “You forgot to mention the stress factor imposed on the hives during transportation! That’s a great contributor to CCD.”
Hal was aware that there was disagreement among the membership when it came to the topic of transporting the bees to provide pollination services. He readied himself. “Bees have been moved all over the country for many decades without major health issues. Bees ha
ve been shipped from Maine all the way to California for almond pollination for years. They arrive healthy and ready to get to work. With all due respect, I disagree with the transportation theory that’s always bantered about when discussing CCD. But whatever the cause, we all have agreed that hives without worker bees would devastate the industry.” Hal did not necessarily want to prolong the discussion because he was aware the “beemageddon” hysteria was still an active debate among the members. Once again, he prepared for opposition as he continued.
“Granted, we lost forty-four percent of our honey bee colonies between April 2015 and April 2016. However, between January and March of this year our loss is less than twenty-seven percent compared to the same quarter last year. In the last five years, we’ve lost one-point-two-billion dollars in the cost of bees. Not all can be contributed to CCD, given our typical loss runs about thirty percent.”
A hand shot up in the air. This time the delegate waited to be acknowledged.
“The chairman recognizes the gentleman from the Sunshine State of Florida.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman.” The Floridian turned and faced Hal. “It should not be overlooked that with the combined efforts of the Honey Bee Health Coalition and the Pollinator Health Task Force, co-chaired by the USDA and the EPA, we’ve made great strides.”
“In my humble opinion,” Hal responded, “their positive impact on honey bee health across the nation has been minimal. Since CCD hit us back in 2006, there has been no discernible downtrend in the number of honey bee colonies. In fact, we’re up sixteen percent. We didn’t need the government mumbo-jumbo to show us how to split our healthy colonies and create multiple hives. Besides, they like to use us as an excuse to spend money.”
The membership knew where Hal was heading and allowed him to vent.
“Remember that ‘Pollinator Health Task Force,’ the one the Apology Tour administration concocted to promote the ‘the health of honey bees and other pollinators,’ the one that asked for eighty-two-million in taxpayer dollars to reduce the honey bee colony loss and enhance seven million acres of land for pollinators? They also threw in some money to increase the population of the monarch butterfly. Just what we needed.”
The discussion edged up a few notches on the thermometer when another colleague from Florida stood up to add his two cents. “CCD is an exaggeration by the environmentalists wanting to push their agenda against global warming, genetically modified organisms, and pesticides, to name a few. It’s their perspective I have a problem with, and it deserves more of our attention—especially and whether we need to spend taxpayer dollars for more important environmental concerns. With our seven-hundred-million-dollar industry, our honey bees are just fine.”
Hal took the floor back. “Excuse me, but our bees are not just fine! I mentioned earlier that pesticides are a major concern. And in this regard the environmentalists are finally fighting on the right side of the fence.”
The delegate countered, “Shawn Regen from PERC, the Property and Environment Research Center, has been writing articulately about this subject for years. Perhaps he put the scary stories about CCD in perspective, when he quoted the words of Hannah Nordhaus, author of The Beekeeper’s Lament. She said the reports ‘should serve as a cautionary tale to environmental journalists eager to write the next blockbuster story of environmental decline.’”
Loud applause resonated in the room until the chairman pounded his gavel calling for order and returning the floor to Hal.
To tamp down the rhetoric, Hal allowed, “Perhaps, their focus is somewhat misguided.” It worked. Those riled up, appeared to calm down. He continued. “We know there’s no one culprit and we’ve weathered the storms in the past. But due to the hard work and dedication of the nation’s beekeepers, the honey bee colony numbers have annually rebounded from the extraordinary losses we’ve suffered. However, being resilient should not preclude us from being proactive. Let’s talk about what can be done.”
“You have my attention. Tell us—what can be done?” That time the Florida delegate appeared to rest his case.
“More emphasis on planting flowers and trees that can survive the winter is a start. We all recognize that the lack of nectar available to feed the hives continues to be a crucial problem in certain geographic areas. Everyone should resist cutting Ivy plants, specifically in the genus Hedera, such as the Helix or Hibernica. These mature ivies with oval leaves bloom flowers in the fall and are an ideal source of food, producing high-quality nectar with forty-nine percent sugar. Also, planting a variety of flowering bulbs can provide a constant source of food with blooms ranging from early spring to late fall. Look!” Hal emphasized, “bee pollination contributes to nearly twenty billion dollars in US food production. It wouldn’t hurt for every citizen to be educated as to the importance of bees to our economy!”
At that point, Hal was preaching to the choir. They were proud of their industry, both the pollinators and the honeymakers. They wanted everyone to understand their vital importance to the food chain.
Another hand in the air vied for attention.
“I recognize the gentleman from the great state of North Dakota,” said the chairman.
“No one has brought up the Food and Drug Administration’s latest intrusion. Effective January first of this year, we can no longer buy bee antibiotics, such as oxytetracycline, tylosin, or lincomycin over the counter, which we desperately need to maintain the health of our bees. Now, we must go to a veterinarian to get a prescription,” the delegate huffed. “What the hell does a vet know about bees?”
“They’re concerned with antibiotic resistance,” offered one defender.
“As if we don’t know how to diagnose and treat the problem,” the gentleman from North Dakota refuted. “First, ‘resistance’ is an activist’s code word for wanting to place controls. Perhaps, however, it’s more about Big PhRMA wanting to get their hands into our billion-dollar industry. Once the over-the-counter antibiotic for a bee became a prescription drug—the price went up. The FDA also made the process extremely problematic and time-consuming for the vet.”
“Only one-fourth of US beekeepers find it necessary to use the antibiotic,” the defender countered.
“Might I remind you, during the summer months, North Dakota is by far the most densely populated honey bee state in the nation with more than five-hundred-thousand colonies. Pay attention! Without easy access to the antibiotic we run the risk of the American Foulbrood returning.” The North Dakotan sent a chill through the chamber by mentioning the easily transmittable disease that kills bees with millions of infectious spores. “And let’s not forget the FDA’s been messin’ with our honey.” The point was well taken. The defender took his seat.
It was no secret that yet another spat with the FDA had been brewing. It had to do with the push to include ‘added sugars’ as a labeling requirement. The American Beekeeping Federation had weighed in publicly, stating that, “it would be much more logical and prudent if the FDA would consider listing the naturally occurring sugar content of 100% pure honey as ‘Total Sugars’ and not ‘Added Sugars’.”
Another hand shot up.
“I recognize the delegate from the state of Georgia.”
“This label nonsense is misleading at best,” he retorted. “What our labels should say is that honey contains forty percent natural fructose, and thirty percent natural glucose. Of course, that’s an average percentage depending on the floral source of the nectar, but it’s still a simple natural sugar and less than a complex sugar. You’ll find that to be an average of ten to twenty percent higher, in both fructose and glucose. Don’t forget honey also has the added benefits of propolis and minerals, including magnesium and potassium. And sugar not possessing those natural additives, puts it way higher on the glycemic index than our natural honey.”
“It’s a damn shame,” interjected another man from the Peach State, not waiting to be recogn
ized. “Honey should be marketed as a food, not a sugar. It also contains antioxidants and antimicrobial compounds, none of which sugar can claim to have. Simply put, honey supports the body’s health—sugar does not. And as Secretary Tillis reported, we produced over one-hundred-sixty-two-million pounds of honey in 2016. We’re a multi-billion-dollar industry and the government continues to subsidize the US sugar industry, costing taxpayers nearly three billion dollars a year. Can’t they do the math?! For certain they don’t know their science.”
Hal jumped back in. “Thankfully, the FDA has put that nonsense on the back burner for now and are not actively pursuing the issue.” Hal attempted to put that hot topic to bed, but it had been a thorn in the side of the membership for years.
The tinder had been lit and produced a firestorm of conversation. There was no stopping the other members from chiming in, some heatedly, some marginally calmer, but no one silent. It was clear that all members of the State Delegates Assembly had something to grumble about. After another hour and a half of discussion points and reported statistics, the broad picture had been painted. Questions were asked and answered.
“If there are no other points to be made, I ask that the Young Apiarists Project Committee stay behind once I adjourn.” Then, per protocol, the chairman declared, “I call this meeting to be adjourned. Do I hear a second?”
“I second the motion!” called out one of the delegates.
The gavel dropped.
All in attendance not asked to stay behind dispersed. They were content to be left out of the YAP committee, with its mission to establish an internship to study CCD. They were also satisfied to be the benefactors of its findings, without having to put in the time.
Fifteen members of the YAP Committee remained seated in the chamber. Only they were privy to the project’s real intent, including the fact that it was a ruse. The made-up name, with a seemingly transparent purpose, appeared to satisfy the membership and provided the necessary obfuscation. When the last of the members trailed out of the chamber, closing the door behind them, the president of the American Beekeeping Federation spoke to his captive audience.
The Beekeeper's Secret Page 2
