Marco Zucchetti is the first Bee my Future beekeeper, part of the challenge LifeGate has taken on to save bees in the city. We had a chat with him to find out how this story began and where it might lead.
Marco, beekeeping is your passion, but you have a different main job. Can you tell us how this passion came about?
It all began about ten years ago when I met a gentleman, a 70-year-old beekeeper who introduced me to the tools of the trade and helped me understand how this wonderful world works. Thanks to him I decided to attend a series of courses to learn a profession that has nothing to do with my job. I work in a bank. But my free time is dedicated to bees.
Do you hope to turn this passion into a career in the future?
I've thought about it seriously. I don't rule it out, but my "official" job is one I enjoy, and leaving it for something very risky is a tough choice to make. The work of a beekeeper is genuinely volatile. Let me give an example: acacia honey is produced in May and the tree's flowering lasts about three weeks. Last year it rained for 22 days in May. So it's easy to imagine how much acacia honey it was possible to produce. In any case, I still don't rule out that one day it could become my job.
A lot of current news reports mention neonicotinoid pesticides. What effects do they have on bees? Is this also a risk factor?
Personally, I've never experienced a dramatic case of bee die-off, thankfully. I've always been careful to choose areas (in the province of Milan, ed.) sheltered from this kind of problem, but other colleagues have arrived at their apiary to find that a large number of bees had died. It is scientifically proven that die-off events occur as a result of agricultural treatments, and it is not uncommon for beekeepers to find themselves with half-empty hives. Fortunately, there is now a moratorium on these pesticides in Europe. One solution would be to practise organic farming. Another major problem is habitat loss — that is, the reduction of the territory in which bees can pollinate, because cities are expanding at an ever-increasing rate.
Let's talk about the role of the beekeeper. Many people wonder whether — and to what extent — human intervention matters within a mechanism that is by nature perfect.
Man is the bee's first enemy. But the beekeeper is not responsible for die-offs, because his role is to place bees in conditions where they can produce honey in greater quantities than normal. The part that is "taken away" is only the surplus — the part they wouldn't use anyway. You cannot take from bees more honey than they need to survive the winter. Between the beekeeper and his bees, a balance is struck, a symbiosis. That is his true role: to protect them.
And what about the kingdom of bees? What roles exist inside a hive, and how many are there?
When a worker bee is born, in the first days of its life it does nothing but clean the hive. It then moves on to feeding the larvae — the young. As it grows a little older, its task is to store honey in the hive, and then to go out and forage for nectar. Finally, in the last phase of its life, it becomes a guard. There is a genuine evolution of roles based on seniority and on the needs of the colony.
Which is the most important?
The most important is the queen bee, of which there is only one. She is the mother of all the bees and her sole concern is reproduction. The drones, on the other hand, are the males of the family and have a less defined role, but one more closely linked to control and ventilation.
And which is the most curious?
A particular role is that of certain bees which, during a specific period of the year, have the task of drying the honey. To do so, they beat their wings to create the airflow needed to reduce humidity and regulate temperature.
Is there a relationship between the beekeeper and his bees? In other words, do you grow fond of them? Or do they even recognise when you arrive?
I'd love to say yes, but that's not the case. Even though the affection is there. I care deeply about my bees, but unfortunately I don't think they recognise me. Some bee colonies are more aggressive than others, and there are weather conditions when it's best not to go and visit them — for instance when it's raining or windy. So there are differences in behaviour between bees, but there are no differences related to the relationship with the beekeeper. I'd love to say they recognise me — I even talk to them sometimes — but, alas, that's not the case.
How did the collaboration with Bee my Future come about, and what led you to accept LifeGate's challenge?
The meeting between Apam (the Associazione produttori apistici della provincia di Milano, of which Zucchetti is a member, ed.) and LifeGate was unexpected, but it was clear from the outset that both organisations wanted to do something concrete for bees. So we found the most suitable form for the collaboration to take. What emerged from that has the great advantage of being replicable — a never-before-seen model of small-scale beekeeping close to cities. We have shown that our existence and that of bees can be made compatible.
Can beekeeping be organic too?
Unfortunately we cannot yet speak of organic beekeeping, especially in the city, because we would need to be certain that the bees go foraging — that is, collecting nectar — in an area cultivated exclusively according to organic principles. However, we do commit personally to using nothing chemical or treated. And with this we want to demonstrate that bees can live a good-quality life even on the outskirts of cities. And we are succeeding. Because our food supply too depends on bees.