by Greca N. Meloni
Until the early 2000s, in Sardinia, the beekeeping season started very early. The spring blooms were abundant and diverse, reflecting the rich biodiversity of the Sardinian landscape. From March to June, beekeepers worked tirelessly to care for their bees. Depending on the geographical area, producing honey from asphodel, heather, thistle, wildflowers, rockrose, and lavender was relatively easy. Later, from July onwards, the focus shifted to harvesting eucalyptus honey. Until the early 2000s, eucalyptus honey harvesting began in July and, depending on the year, could last until August 25th. During this period, Sardinian beekeepers spent their days under the sun collecting tons of eucalyptus honey, which was then sold across the island and exported to European and international markets.
During the eucalyptus harvest, every morning, my father, also a beekeeper, would return from his first round of the apiaries with an overwhelming number of supers to extract immediately. He would load the freshly extracted supers onto the van and head to the other apiaries. There was so much honey with each load that we didn’t know where to store it. In the processing room, we worked quickly and perfectly coordinated with what was happening in the apiaries. Under normal conditions, eucalyptus has a high nectar potential, up to 200 kg per hive, and a prolonged flowering period. This makes eucalyptus one of the most important plants for Sardinian beekeeping and one of the most "intense." The bees had no rest, frantically bringing in nectar. The scent of eucalyptus in the open air mixed with the aroma from the combs as they were extracted, creating a strong smell that could make you feel nauseous.
Nature and the Covid-19
In 2020, the flowering season in southern Sardinia looked promising. The Covid-19 lockdown allowed flowers and insects to maintain their natural biological cycles, and the countryside appeared lush. Even the eucalyptus plants seemed full of blossoms despite suffering from parasites and being reduced in number due to continuous logging and past wildfires.
However, temperatures suddenly dropped in May after the first warm spells in April, and rains arrived. The bees consumed part of their stored reserves to cope with the cold days, and the weather conditions reduced the nectar secretion of the flowers, which had bloomed early due to the premature heat. The eucalyptus began flowering much earlier than usual, already in June, and after about ten days of good weather, the usual Azores anticyclone failed to arrive. Instead, the sirocco wind dried out the flowers within a few days. The once bright white eucalyptus blossoms quickly turned reddish-brown and then withered away.
My father taught me that to produce eucalyptus honey, the plants need a humid climate to secrete nectar. In Sardinia, starting in July, the Azores anticyclone maintained a warm and stable climate without strong winds. Wind, in fact, hinders bees laden with nectar and/or pollen as they try to return to the hive. It also negatively affects the flowers, reducing their nectar secretion and drying them out.
The Azores anticyclone, which brings heat during the day and humidity at night, created an ideal climate for eucalyptus honey production and favored the subsequent late-summer blooms.
Honey and the Azores anticyclone
In recent years, however, the late rains in May and June have ruined pastures for both livestock and bees. The winds (sirocco or mistral) have replaced the Azores anticyclone, which now appears at the end of July or even well into August, when the eucalyptus bloom is already lost. This prevents the ideal conditions for the first rains, which typically arrive around August 20th and allow the growth of sticky fleabane and wild asparagus. For the "late summer" rains, we often have to wait until early October. As a result, even the carob tree, especially the strawberry tree, suffering from prolonged drought, are very stingy with the sweet reward intended for bees, drastically reducing their colonies. Then winter arrives, flowering is entirely absent, and the weaker bee colonies—those that haven’t managed to store enough reserves for the winter—become more susceptible to diseases and often don’t survive until the following season.
Climate Change and bees' health
These are the effects of climate change, which reduce the quantities of honey produced and jeopardize the very survival of bees. For years now, beekeepers have been doing their best to ensure the survival of these precious insects, battling unpredictable situations that demand greater attention and care from everyone. It would be wrong to think of this as merely an economic issue affecting only those who have turned their passion for bees into a productive and modern business. The decline in honey production is linked to a reduced ability of nectar-producing plants to secrete nectar for bees. This means that bees, which feed exclusively on nectar and pollen, are losing their only source of sustenance for survival. As a result, bees die, and pollinator populations shrink significantly, impacting the quality and diversity of landscapes.
“We are part of the landscape; we shape it through the work of our bees,” a Sardinian beekeeper once told me.
I wonder how much longer beekeepers will be able to “safeguard” bees if we all fail to place climate change at the center of every discussion about humanity's future.
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