I am fascinated by the interactions between bees. I am fasci-
nated by the interactions between beekeepers.
In Hawaii, Michael Kliks, owner of the Manoa Honey Company, and his assistant Keoki Espiritu have invited me to see their hives on Oahu. We don bee veils and jackets, the garments setting each of us in relief against the smoky cloud-covered mountain. The pink jasmine vines threaten to overtake us. Tall banana trees shade the hives, a colorful combination of mainland and Molokai boxes. Yellow ginger punctuates the green setting like confetti. Together, we clear out the brush to create more space for Kliks’s hives. The false pakaki (fake jasmine) vines need to be cut back, so we work for a couple of hours. When we finish, there’s an orderly little bee yard in the midst of this Hawaiian jungle. We watch the body surfers at Wanamaeigo, munching on Keoki’s bologna sandwiches, credit going to his wife.
California. John Miller, a fourth-generation beekeeper descending from N. E. Miller. Ever the native migrant, he’s been making the trek from Blackfoot, Idaho, to California since he was fourteen. Add Gackle, North Dakota, to his tour, and, well, there is one of America’s last real