1 of 3
The owners of Honey River Farm, suited up for beekeeping.
Illustration by Elaine Collins
2 of 3
Knudson and Clements expect to have 80 to 100 hives, and want to share their love of beekeeping by hosting farm tours.
3 of 3
An average beehive may contain40,000 to 60,000 bees during the late spring or early summer.
In a small clearing in piney woods just off a Rappahannock River inlet near White Stone, a honey bee lands on Cyndi Knudson’s finger.
Obviously, the bee could sting her finger. It wouldn’t be the first time a bee has stung her. Or the second.
Or third.
One time she took four quick stings on her chin from honey bees. Her jaw swelled up like she’d been on the wrong end of a scrap in the Octagon UFC with champ Amanda Nunes.
For now, Knudson is motionless. Her voice drops several decibels as she watches the bee. Knudson doesn’t panic. She doesn’t swat, flick, or even curse the bee. Two thoughts come to my mind: First, it’s not normal to watch a bee linger on your finger and be so calm. Second, glad it’s her finger and not mine.
But Knudson sees things differently than most—maybe all?—of us when it comes to honey bees. You see, Knudson and the honey bee, and tens of thousands of other bees living nearby in handcrafted hives, are friends. Co-workers perhaps.
Actually, partners is a more accurate description.
They’re all together in this grand “Honey River Farm” small-batch, honey-making adventure. This plan was put in motion last year by Knudson, a director of research for the national Christmas Tree Promotion Board, and her partner, fellow Virginia Beach resident Brian Clements.
The plan in simple form goes like this: They buy 13 acres near White Stone. They buy bees and raise them. They make honey and sell it.
Some of that honey will be artisan style infused with flavors such as lavender and lemon, vanilla, basil and even spicy hot pepper for grilling and seafood, packaged in handcrafted glass jars. The important part is selling their delicious honey to the local community.
It’s easy, right? Doesn’t it sound like a way to make money doing something you enjoy? After all, honey is popular these days.
“Honey is a trending food,” Knudson said. “It’s something people are interested in, partly for the health factors and partly for the taste.”
It’s a hard life for bees
Actually, it’s not so simple. Let’s start with the bees. First off is the obvious: As a beekeeper you could get stung. You could get stung a lot. But you can also prevent that with the proper gear and expertise.
Pests can be a constant nuisance. Already the honey bees Knudson and Clements are raising are under assault from the varroa mite. It’s a deadly pest that the pair polices studiously to make sure their colonies are free of them.
Not to mention other pests in the woods they catch at night on their trail camera. Some of them, like raccoons, possums or deer, are more curious about these newcomers in the small white apartment buildings. They’re still pests, though.
To deal with the uninvited larger critters, Knudson and Clements built a “3D” electrified fence that’s an effective deterrent. To keep out smaller critters such as pesky hive beetles, they install a black plastic mat beneath the hives.
When it comes to pesticides, they’re working with local farmers. Knudson and Clements ask them for a heads up of when they’re spraying pesticides on their fields.
Knudson and Clements also talk to them about spraying when bees are less active, such as in the late evening. They can also persuasively tell their farming friends that soybean yields get up to an 18 percent jump thanks to honey bee pollination.
Other factors can prove deadly to bees in general, such as habitat loss, higher temperatures in the Chesapeake Bay region and disease. But Knudson said honeybees are also more productive at warmer temperatures.
And honey bees are resilient when it comes to habitat, she said. “They are quite happy to make their homes in old buildings, urban trees or wherever when they swarm from a managed hive and live as a feral colony,” she said.
The Honey River Farm concept
With their 13 acres, in addition to their small-batch honey operation, Knudson and Clements plan to build a house on their property. They’ll also construct a shop and other buildings to have the honey processed and for people and groups to stop in for tours.
They want to share their love of beekeeping and honey by hosting members of the Boys & Girls Club, 4-H, FFA, folks staying at nearby Airbnbs, tourists, locals and others. Their idea with Honey River Farm is an agritourism stop where visitors “can experience a day with the bees,” Clements said.
By early March, the Honey River Farms setup boasted 22 hives or colonies. Their honey bees are Apis mellifera ligustica, known as Italian Honey Bees.
They were first imported to North America in 1859. The Italian honey bees are known for excellent honey production and a general gentle disposition.
At full tilt, Knudson and Clements expect to have 80 to 100 hives. They’ve already lined up White Stone vendors for
Honey River Farm honey, such as Miss Mary Fresh Seafood Market and Old Farm Truck in White Stone, for starters. They expect many more vendors to follow suit.
Knudson said a new hive with a 3-pound package of bees includes about 10,000 bees and a queen. The queen immediately gets busy. Real busy. She can lay up to 2,000 eggs a day, or up to 80,000 over the spring and summer.
To keep their honey bees busy, Knudson and Clements are selectively clearing their woods and planting things bees will like better. Like the eight fruit trees inside the 3D fence that surrounds the 12-foot by 16-foot cleared patch for the first five hives.
A sweet introduction
Knudson got to know honey bees in 1984 at Virginia Tech. The class was an introduction to bees and beekeeping. She was hooked and kept bees as a hobby over the years.
While Knudson’s honey bees have a two-mile foraging radius, her own orbit has extended much further. It’s taken her around Virginia. She spent the first decade of the 21st century raising her children—and livestock—and working as a Virginia Tech Agriculture and Natural Resources Extension Agent in southeast Virginia.
In the decade before that, Knudson lived on the Eastern Shore of Maryland raising her children—and livestock.
(Hint: Did you know bees are considered livestock?)
By 2010 she was in Michigan. She farmed vegetables and fruit in the field, in high tunnels and hydroponically for her Community Supported Agriculture. She also raised honey bees and produced honey and maple syrup.
Knudson returned to Virginia in 2017. Once again, she raised honey bees and produced honey. Which brings us to Knudson meeting Clements two years ago. Clements retired from the U.S. Navy, has worked in civil service and has a culinary background. Six months later they were together. “We got that one hive in the back yard and I’ve been on board ever since,” Clements said.
Now it’s 2020. This honey-making venture is getting real. Things are off to a good start. Both Knudson and Clements said the community of White Stone has been welcoming.
“People in town can’t wait to have our honey,” Knudson said. “When you taste small-batch, small-farm honey, it’s a remarkable taste.”
Follow Honey River Farm on Facebook and Instagram as they grow their bee farm and honey business. 804-480-2325