09/04/2026
In 1609, an English beekeeper named Charles Butler published a book calling the queen a queen for the first time, and he noticed the same thing every beekeeper has noticed since. In September the hive turns on its own sons.
Drones are the males. They do one thing, which is mate with a new queen in spring, and by now that job is done. They do not forage, they do not guard, they do not make wax, and they eat. So when the last of the goldenrod comes in, the workers stop feeding them, then drag them to the entrance and push them off the board. They are not allowed back in. Every one of them starves within a few days.
The rest of the fall runs on a schedule. The queen slows down and stops laying. The colony shrinks to twenty thousand or so that can last the winter. On the first nights under fifty seven degrees they pull into a ball the size of a football and shiver their flight muscles to hold the center at ninety degrees, taking turns on the cold outside. They will do that until March, eating forty pounds of honey, and not one of them will sleep.
The timeline on the card is the whole story. It is happening in every hive within a mile of you this month. š