The Fort needs those who need the Fort
An article about the weaknesses and strength of the Fort Knox Project, the locality of bees, the problems of cooperation and why the project matters most precisely for those who are only beginning selection.
Another season and the first reservations
In 2020, another season of our Fort Knox Project began. In many respects, things are not as we expected and hoped. But another season also proves that those who decide to cooperate closely can count on their losses being replaced and can enjoy bees that have not been treated against varroosis for years. Because although the Fort has lost many bee colonies along the way, it has also developed lines in which the Varroa destructor mite was last controlled in autumn 2014.
Let me perhaps begin with what does not necessarily work. Anyone looking for arguments against cooperation will probably stop here, convinced that it is not worth it. I hope, however, that not everyone will stop reading at the arguments “against”. Our project has a number of weaknesses. One would like to say that, above all, it is defeated by “reality”. Reality keeps making itself heard: many people do not want to join the cooperation, and sometimes something does not suit others. There are moments of ascent and moments of decline. Despite all these problems, I personally still try to convince others that things can be different. Can they? Certainly they can. But are they?
The difficult reality of cooperation
Fort Knox began as a small project run by an even smaller group of amateurs acting on the basis of full mutual trust, passion, energy and enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the years of cooperation so far have killed much of that energy and enthusiasm and have also strained mutual trust. For various reasons, which this is not the place to discuss publicly, our community has divided over recent years. New bonds of companionship or friendship have been formed, but some older ones have broken — sometimes it seems almost irreversibly. Each side probably has its arguments and its reasons. Suffice it to say that some spoken words cannot be “unspoken”, and some actions cannot be “undone”. Regardless of everything, it seems that the only thing that has survived relatively intact in almost all of us is love and passion for beekeeping and for bees. We can only hold on to this optimistic thought and continue doing our work.
Fort Knox grew systematically during its first years, although slowly. New people joined and the number of colonies steadily increased. When the project was separated from the framework of the “Wolne Pszczoły” — “Free Bees” — association, although one of the arguments was to open the project to non-affiliated people, we achieved the opposite effect and two previous participants left. Last season Łukasz also decided to leave; in the first phase of the project he had saved us from having to begin selection from the start, as was emphasised in earlier articles. For your cooperation so far, Łukasz, thank you very much.
Untreated bees and local crises
The cooperation of the remaining participants continues, however — with all the problems that can arise. First of all, the project is based on untreated bees. Although this is, of course, exactly what the project is about, it is also our first and main problem. Bees untreated for varroosis will always be much more vulnerable to all the negative factors they have to face. They can indeed develop beautifully, but they can also suddenly collapse and die within two weeks. As an example, I will describe my situation this year. Last year my Fort bees were going through a crisis. The season was difficult, as beekeepers from all over the country have said. In the southern part of Poland, where I live and keep bees, there were apiaries that did not produce even one kilogram of honey but consumed hundreds of kilograms of sugar. My “Fort” apiary was also exceptionally unlucky, because all the colonies standing there, including those outside the project, went through an enormous crisis. While the other sites developed relatively well, as far as was possible in a poor season and with untreated bees, when I arrived at the “Fort” apiary I felt defeated and forced to fight for survival. This, perhaps more than anything else, showed me how local beekeeping can be. Of my five colonies declared for the project, three survived the previous winter, one of them consisting of two seams of bees without a queen. It was clear that this “colony” would not be able to build up enough strength to be used for divisions. From the other two I was supposed to create five nucs. The problem was that, because of an exceptionally rainy May, the “mother” colonies barely reached reasonable strength by the time of division, and immediately after the divisions all of them began to have enormous problems. The small colonies shrank, and in the five nucs from the first round only one queen emerged and mated. Queen rearing therefore had to be started again, which contributed to further weakening these already poor nucs. As a result, the nucs I made for others from the Fort bee pool were among the weakest I had produced not only in the history of my participation in the project, but in my entire apiary during the 2019 season. I did not do this in bad faith or out of disregard for the cooperation. The malice of fate meant that at other apiary sites, despite a poor, rainy start to the season, the bees developed reasonably well, most queens mated, and the colonies maintained proper vigour. This is the first problem of the Fort: you cannot jump over what you have in your apiary. You cannot make beautiful nucs from shrinking colonies with problems.
The problem of locality
Another problem is the lack of locality of bees in the form of cooperation that the Fort offers today. Why? Because across the whole country we currently have barely seven participants. After so many years, that is not much — especially since there had already been more. As a result, several project colonies somewhere may form an “island” surrounded by a sea of unselected genes. This not only increases logistical problems, but the transport of colonies also significantly changes their living environment. For example, colonies reasonably well adapted locally to the foothill climate do not necessarily have to cope on the plains, if only because of different strains of pathogenic microorganisms. Transporting bees does not always serve them well, and colony mortality is not always directly and straightforwardly correlated with the level of infestation by the Varroa destructor mite. Colonies with 200–300 mites that can keep their number at that level may survive under some conditions and collapse under others — for example because of a change in climate and the resulting change in bacterial microflora, including pathogenic microflora. See, for example: article in Polish. More than one colony developed nicely, but after being moved to new conditions did not survive the winter — sometimes, it seemed, for no reason at all. Colonies from the “J” line, for example, were among the most beautifully developing colonies in my apiary for two seasons, but then all of them died without leaving descendants. Transporting bees certainly does not serve them well, and the greater the distances they travel, the lower their chance of survival seems to become. The Fort will therefore work better the more locally bee exchange is practised.
An amateur project — with consequences
Another weakness of the Fort is that it is a project aimed at amateurs and created by amateurs. With all the consequences that follow. As amateurs, we have difficulty providing properly prepared boxes, giving bees a good start, making nucs properly, and finally keeping bees alive and in good condition. I write “we have” because I think these problems affect all of us — I certainly have at least several of them.
The Fort is not a perfect tool, especially from the point of view of selection. Although colonies may manage to survive in one location, we do not know whether they will manage to survive in another. For example, in my apiary there is a colony marked B5, which descends directly from a bee line that survived the collapse of the winter of 2016/2017. Although this colony remains with me to this day — at least according to my knowledge it was still alive at the end of January 2020 — every year I try to make nucs from it for others, and it seems there is no place where they survive. Is this the “fault” of the bees, or mine? I do not know. Or perhaps there is no “fault” here?
What does the Fort really offer?
But Fort Knox does not have only disadvantages. Nor is the project supposed to be solely a perfect selection tool. There are probably better methods for that. But they can be practised mainly by experienced beekeepers who want to observe bees, look after them constantly and, above all, develop their apiaries. Experience shows that it is difficult to conduct one’s own selection without at least 40–70 colonies. Below that number it is a lottery, and above it there are still no guarantees. Those who want to minimise interference in the bee colony and enjoy a few hives in the garden have practically no chance on their own. They can keep bees, of course. After several years of practice they will certainly gain some knowledge and experience. But probably every year, two years or three years, they will be forced to start again. Unless they are lucky — because that matters too. The Fort is primarily a project that should encourage cooperation and provide a guarantee within selection. The Fort says: do not count on others, select bees yourself. But note: if your bees die, we will not let you start from zero. This is the highest value of the Fort — at least for me.
Why is the project not growing faster?
For years I have tried to encourage people to join Fort Knox. Despite this, the project is not growing as I might expect, given its undoubted advantages. Indeed, because of all the turmoil mentioned in the introduction, after the first period of promising growth it has actually shrunk somewhat. I would like to believe that I am not achieving the opposite effect, although such voices have been raised. With the division of our natural beekeeping community, some people have probably become more cautious about cooperation. Perhaps they see that besides its undoubted advantages, one can also get bruised along the way. And why, if bees and beekeeping are supposed to be a passion and a pleasure? That is true. To those who think this way, I do not know what to say. I have no argument for them.
But I know there are others. Those who would like to cooperate for dozens of reasons, who take part in discussions with us and therefore do not avoid exchanging views and keeping contact. Whether they work with us in the Fort or not, they are still with us: they discuss, they want to come to our meetings, they want to get to know us. They are often the real puzzle for me. I wonder why they do not want to “sacrifice” two or three colonies in order to be with us and contribute to increasing the importance of beekeeping without treating bees, to making our shared voice heard, and above all to showing the outside world that it is possible and necessary to try to improve bees’ living conditions and their adaptation to the local environment and to the threats waiting for them. This voice will not break through into beekeepers’ awareness if it is not there. Many beekeepers use toxins in apiaries because they do not even know there is an alternative. Even if that alternative is not a guarantee today, the beekeeping knowledge circulating in “general use” does not allow hope for a different quality of beekeeping. To this day, at beekeeping conferences, beekeepers are persuaded that by “treating” they are saving the species from destruction and extinction. But even if the truth is bitter, it is certainly not as bitter as it is presented.
The Fort needs those who need the Fort
In our community, people appear who declare their willingness to give up chemical treatments. They see that in the long term such treatments harm bees and their environmental adaptation. Despite this, it sometimes seems that they try to “reinvent the wheel” on their own. They do not join the Fort. They try for a year, two years, three years. Often they then return to chemistry, although they do not want to. They lose hope, and even if it still glows faintly, they give up in their actions. Or they keep trying again and again in their small apiaries, constantly buying bees from “commercial lines”. Why? I do not always understand it. I understand that they know a colony in the Fort should not be considered equivalent to success in selection. Indeed, we say this ourselves. Many of them die in the very same season in which they were created. But does buying a colony from a commercial breeder or making one’s own attempts on a separate group of five or ten hives give greater chances? To me this is doubtful at the very least. Some of these beekeepers, when asked directly why they do not join the Fort, say that they have been considering it for a year or two, but believe they have nothing interesting to offer the project from their side. They are waiting until they develop “something” over a year, two or three, and then they will be able to become valuable members of this community. I myself have encountered this view at least several times. What can I say except that this is not what it is about at all? If you have already achieved something, then you do not need the Fort for your own apiary. If only those who have already achieved something were to join the Fort, then they too would not need much from you, even if something positive had begun to happen in your apiary. The Fort needs those who need the Fort. Thanks to this we can build a community that can break through into beekeeping awareness.
Someone has to start locally first
Before joining the Fort, many people ask whether there is already someone in their location with whom they could cooperate more closely. This is an entirely reasonable question. One of the Fort’s weaknesses is that it is not developed enough for local cooperation subgroups to form, in which the exchange of bees would not weaken their local adaptations. But on the other hand, if a negative answer to this question discourages you from cooperation, you must be aware that next year, when someone else from a neighbouring commune or district asks the same question, she or he may also give up for exactly the same reason. If you act locally, perhaps you already have someone with whom you cooperate? Perhaps it is worth considering joining together? The project coordinator would then be able to divide your own bees between you, but if both of you suffer a “defeat”, you will be supported from outside. Thanks to this, the “genetics” on which we are all working can continue to develop further and further.
In my opinion, for amateurs who want to give up using “chemistry” in apiaries, nothing better has been created than the Fort Knox Project. But all of us in this project need even those bees that do not have great chances of surviving without treatments. Because they can unite us around a common goal.
Another season is behind us. At the moment seven beekeepers are active in the Project, and 26 bee colonies have been declared. By the end of the 2019 season, all losses — as in almost every year — had been replaced. As of today, five of these colonies have already been reported as losses to be replaced in 2020. There will probably be more. Will it be easy? It never has been. But together we have always managed.