My first experience with honey bees dates back to my days of playing Little League. My brother and I would help bale hay on a teammate's farm. His dad had a small apiary behind the barn. One hot July day, we were making our last trip around the field kicking the last of the bales when we saw a cloud of bees emerge from behind the barn.  My teammate's dad, Mr. Wilson, spotted them from the seat of his tractor. He made a slight detour to pick up a ladder and a 5 gallon bucket.  The cloud of bees swirled overhead while we continued with our hay duties. After unloading the wagon in the barn, Mr Wilson pointed out that the bees had settled into a walnut tree near a fence row.

As a kid, I always had a great deal of respect for Mr. Wilson — who's full time job was working as a State Trooper — but at this point I was seriously doubting his choices. I watched as Mr. Wilson took the ladder and bucket to the walnut tree and began climbing towards the swarm of bees.  In amazement, I stood there in thinking, "There's thousands of bees. He's going to be stung to death." My skepticism soon turned to deeper admiration as he scooped handfuls of bees with his bare hands from the swarm and slowly placed them in the bucket. It was then that I thought to myself, "I'm going to be a beekeeper some day."

It wasn't until much later in life that I  got my chance. A good friend of mine and fellow science teacher got a call from a landowner who was having some lumber harvested. There was a large hickory tree with a hive inside it. They wanted someone to come remove the hive. Immediately after he told me about the call I said, "Let's do it." 
 
That is when my beekeeping obsession took hold. Since then, it has become a family affair. My wife and sons also help in all areas of our apiary. Together, we work to keep the bees at Bear Mountain happy and the hives healthy.