Bees: It’s not all cute and fuzzy
Originally posted Sept 26 2025
I’m researching for Book Two, tentatively called The Sorrow of Bees, continuing the story of our feisty mermaid, Jelly, this time addressing pollinators and pesticides.
I had to share the small amount I’ve uncovered because it BLEW MY MIND.
Honeybees pollinate only 9% of our plants. I expected the number to be much higher, but considering honeybees alone are responsible for between 1.2 and 5.4 billion dollars in agricultural productivity in the US, it’s no wonder they get attention. But that’s not what knocked my socks across the room. The internal dynamics of a hive are macabre, and resoundingly make me think of Game of Thrones.
We all know there’s the Queen. She’s in charge of laying eggs, only fertilizing some, which determines the sex of the offspring, and keeping everyone busy, busy, busy. But she has a tragic backstory. When a Queen ages, her pheromones weaken and she lays fewer eggs. Nurse bees begin feeding royal jelly to a dozen female eggs, turning them into potential queens.
I’ve learned a new word today: Sororicide. As these princesses emerge from their wax cocoons, they chirp to each other. Once locating their sisters, they battle to the death, leaving only one survivor. Sometimes, the dominate sibling will sting her sister to death before she’s even hatched.
Once the battling is done, the new queen will take a mating flight, a one-time hurrah. She stores sperm from about a dozen male bees who gather in gangs, waiting for new queens to fly by. Our poor boy bees die an awful death, as their guts are ripped from their bodies after mating. Seriously, Nature? WTF?
Once our new queen has collected all the sperm she needs for life, she returns to the hive, never to leave again, unless the colony outgrows the hive and swarms.
If our old queen is lucky, she’s already left in a swarm to set up a new hive elsewhere. If she is not so lucky… the princess, her daughter, returns and…
Kills her, becoming the hive’s new Queen Bee.
Second new word of the day: supercedure.
It’s worse than Shakespeare. More horrifying than Steven King.
I had such a cute picture in my head of little bees flitting around flowers, making delicious honey, and living fairly groovy lives under the benevolence of a chosen Queen. But my research has shattered that illusion.
And yet, while their internal dynamics make me want to weep, there is great beauty in bee colonies. They work in service to each other, are actually a democracy, and continue the miracle of pollination that we all benefit from. I could go on and on, and I will, but it will be in the book.
As I mentioned, honeybees contribute to less than ten percent of all pollination. Kudos also go to solitary bees, bumblebees, flies, wasps, moths, butterflies, bats, beetles, ants, and birds. They are relatively unsung compared to honeybees, and I will give them the platform they deserve in future posts.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my tale of woe and terror. When I now put my small scoop of honey in my coffee, I send a prayer of thanks to the bees, and the sorrow they endure to provide it.