Beneath the overhangs of south- and south-west-facing Himalayan cliffs hang half-moon combs that can be more than a metre across. They belong to Apis laboriosa, the Himalayan giant honey bee and the largest honey bee on Earth, with workers reaching about three centimetres. For a long time it was treated merely as a mountain form of the Asian giant honey bee, Apis dorsata. In 1980 a team of Japanese entomologists led by Shôichi Sakagami described it as a species in its own right, a view later confirmed by genetic studies.

Most nests are built between 2,500 and 3,000 metres, and the bees forage as high as 4,100 metres. The overhang shields the comb from rain and from birds of prey. A single nest can hold up to 60 kilograms of honey. The bee cannot be kept in hives: its honey can only be taken where the nest hangs.

Ladders of bamboo and vine

Honey hunting is a tradition of the Gurung, a mountain people of Gandaki Province in central Nepal, with villages in Lamjung district among the best known. Hunts usually take place twice a year, in spring and in autumn. They begin at first light at the foot of the cliff with a ceremony: the lead hunter makes offerings to the spirits and deities of the rock, asks for protection from accidents and begs the bees' forgiveness for destroying their home. On one hunt described by reporters, the lead hunter prayed to the gods of water, earth, fire, wind and snakes, and asked the bees to keep the village children safe.

Fires are then lit below the face, and the thick smoke calms the bees and drives them off the combs. The lead hunter descends a ladder woven from bamboo and forest vines, held and repositioned by companions above. With no harness, hanging over a drop of tens of metres, he uses a long bamboo pole to cut away heavy slabs of comb for his companions to take in. Stings are part of the job.

The 'mad' spring honey

In spring, bees at high altitude feed on rhododendron nectar, which contains grayanotoxins. The resulting honey is dark, reddish and intoxicating – hence its name, mad honey. Abroad it is a curiosity, but Nepali hospitals treat poisonings from it regularly. Case reports describe dizziness, vomiting, a dangerous fall in blood pressure and a slowed heartbeat after as little as one or two teaspoons. There is no way of telling how much toxin a jar of wild honey contains.

Vanishing nests

Older hunters remember a time when almost every cliff carried combs. Today there are fewer. Hunters, journalists and conservationists point to over-harvesting, the building of roads and dams, and a changing climate that is thinning out wildflowers and springs. At one site, hunters say a large nest that once yielded up to fifteen litres of honey now gives less than 200 millilitres. As the bees decline, so does a craft handed down from father to son for generations.

Sources

  1. Dialogue Earth (The Third Pole): Nepal's honey hunters cling to traditions as bee numbers fall
  2. University of Florida IFAS: Himalayan giant honey bee, Apis laboriosa
  3. AFP / Malay Mail: Climate change hits Nepal's honey hunters (2024)
  4. Thapa et al. (2024): Mad honey (wild honey) poisoning – clinical case series from Nepal
  5. Nepali Times: To bee or not to bee