MILLERTON -- Back in the early '70s, Bill Draper's brother-in-law gave him an old, well-worn beehive.
It sat in his backyard while Draper pondered its future -- and his own.
One question buzzed around Draper's brain: "To bee or not to bee?"
Fortunately for Draper and tens of thousands of customers over the next nearly 40 years, he chose the sweet life, and Draper's Super Bee Apiaries was born.
Now the company, housed in barn and outbuildings just west of Millerton in northeastern Tioga County, Pa., remains one of the biggest bee businesses in Pennsylvania, selling 500,000 pounds of honey a year, along with hundreds of other bee-related products.
A couple of factors influenced Draper's decision.
"While the hive was in the backyard, a swarm of bees came in," said Draper, now 63.
"I had never seen a swarm there before. I kind of took that as a sign. It's like this was meant to be."
His father Bernie, a retired Wesleyan-Methodist minister, had also caught the buzz.
He was getting up in years and dreamed of creating a honey-handling and beekeeper supply business to keep busy.
"Dad was not very mobile," Draper said. "But he had some financial resources. And he decided he wanted to do this. It was kind of a back-to-the-land thing, something that was popular back then.
"He and I worked together," Draper said. "I did the work, and he talked to people on the phone."
The dream took root, and the business took off. But it was never easy or without constant challenges.
Bernie passed away. Bill and son Royal, now 43, built the business, eventually amassing millions of bees and tons of honey.
Beware mites, bears
But starting in the 1980s, fragile bee populations perished by the billions worldwide from a variety of causes.
"In the '80s, it was the tracheal mite," Draper said. "Very small. It devastated the bees.
"In the '90s, we had the varroa mite. It was bigger and much more visible. That one sucked the blood out of the bees.
"In the years 2000 to 2010, we had colony collapse syndrome," he said.
"It was a worldwide thing. Whole colonies would just die. Everyone has different ideas about what caused it, why it happened. I believe it was several things: environmental issues, weather issues, stress issues."
A huge percentage of the honeybee population worldwide died off, he said. But the natural selection process may have saved the day -- and bode for a better future.
"We are hoping the remaining bees have a survival gene that will cause populations to expand and handle natural stresses better," he said.
"This year, maybe we're taking a step in the right direction."
Much depends on the weather.
An especially hot summer will hurt chances, he said. Plants wilt, bees are stressed and can't produce honey, and it's back to falling populations.
As Draper's business grew, Bill and Royal increased the number of hives from 100 to 1,000, producing 60,000 to 100,000 pounds of honey a year.
Now, Bill and Royal have scaled hives back to 240, in a dozen areas, all protected by electric fences to keep colonies' greatest enemy -- black bears -- at bay. It works.
"When they get zapped by 60 amps, it definitely discourages them," Draper said.
Sweet success
But despite the drop in local honey production, Draper's remains busier than ever. In fact, product diversity is what sets Draper's apart from others in the bee biz.
Take honey: Draper's offers a dozen kinds, many gathered from other states.
Acacia honey is very light and smooth; buckwheat, dark and full-bodied. Orange blossom is light, with a fresh scent, exceptionally sweet on the tongue. Tulip poplar, light in color and mildly flavored. Clover honey -- much of it local -- is the most popular by far. Tupelo honey, produced near Tallahassee, Fla., is always in very short supply.
Draper's produces four varieties: clover, wildflower, goldenrod and basswood.
Customers come from everywhere. For many years, Draper's supplied all of the honey needs of the White House. Stricter security following 9/11 ended that.
But Draper's continues to ship nature's sweetest treat across the country and the oceans.
"We send honey to Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Sweden," Draper said.
"We have a customer in the United Arab Emirates who will only eat Draper honey. He buys it by the four-gallon case every few months. Shipped to the Emirates, that's $600 a case."
Honey prices, in fact, have jumped sharply due to several factors, including the bee blight and the principle of supply and demand.
"There's always a worldwide shortage," Draper said. "There's never enough high-quality honey to go around.
"We used to sell a pound of comb honey in a little box for 95 cents. The same thing nowadays is $6.95 to $9.95."
Draper sells honey for $3.95 for a five-ounce mug to $200 for a five-gallon pail.
Bees and more
But diversity means lots more than honey.
Draper's provides other beekeepers with the supplies they need, from beginners' kits to hand-made observation hives that let folks watch bees at work (a couple are on display in Moscow).
Bees themselves are a hot commodity -- especially in light of regional population collapses.
Sales of queens -- the heart of the hive -- are popular: $32.95 for an "Italian queen," $38.95 for an "All-American" queen. Package bees run $125, shipped, including a queen.
"In some northern areas, two-pound packages produce an average of 225 pounds year after year," Draper said.
"The All-Americans will produce more honey than ordinary bees. They are capable of producing enormous crops if the weather cooperates."
A walk through Draper's showroom reveals more diversity.
A mini-museum displays 100 or so honey brands and varieties. There are bee books: "Favorite Honey Recipes" shares shelf space with "Honey, I'm Homemade" and "Honey: The Gourmet Medicine."
There are bee-proof suits and smokers to render bees docile, bee DVDs and a flour-sack towel that reads "I'm buzzed on local honey."
"Business varies with the time of year," Draper said.
"It's always changing. In spring, we have a huge amount of tours booked: schools, buses, community groups. One annual tour comes all the way from Baltimore.
"The peak for honey sales is fall and spring," he said. "Also, around some ethnic holidays."
Busy as a bee
Despite the spring and fall sales, Draper likes summer best, when he can get outside with the hives and critters and let the four other full-time workers handle the office.
"No one bugs me," he said. "I can't hear the telephone. I'm in my own little world, me and the bees."
This time of year, a Draper's van patrols the East Coast, delivering honey and bees. So far this year, the company has sold one van-load of bees -- that's several million -- and is part way through another.
But business can be difficult, too.
"The biggest challenge we face is maintaining inventories of the things beekeepers want," Draper said.
"From comb boxes to jar lids, we are always running out of things. Suppliers don't want to maintain a big inventory. It's difficult."
But Draper insists on old-time individual attention, and he isn't likely to change.
"You can call us with any questions and ... an actual person will answer the phone," he said. "No recordings. No pressing number-two to get service."
That actual person is most likely to be Draper. That's the way it has always been and the way it will stay.
Draper would like to slow down a little, spend more time with his bees and less with a phone in his hand.
But the man who has built a thriving business from a hand-me-down hive and survived mites and collapses and bears is nothing if not a realist.
"I would like to be doing less," he said. "But I can see that isn't happening."
