CT’s commercial beekeepers face record hive losses as honeybee populations plummet nationwide

Rollie Hannan Jr. has been beekeeping for more than three decades, building Honey Meadows Farm in Southbury into one of Connecticut’s largest commercial apiaries, with more than 400 hives.

But he has never seen a season quite like this one.

Hannan said he lost about 90% of his hives this year — some of the steepest losses he has ever faced in a business familiar with setbacks.

Honeybee populations have been steadily declining over the past two decades, besieged by pesticides, parasites and a loss of wild habitat, experts say. This past year, studies show, has been especially tough for the nation’s commercial beekeepers — including Hannan and a few others in Connecticut — whose hives pollinate the orchards, berry farms and vegetable fields that feed the region.

Beekeepers and experts say they are not alarmed yet — honeybee populations often fluctuate and the industry has weathered sharp declines before. But if losses continue at this rate, they warn, the economic strain could push more commercial farmers to abandon their hives and threaten the crops that depend on their pollination.

Preliminary data from the latest U.S. Beekeeping Survey shows that from April 2024 to April 2025, beekeepers nationwide lost more than half their colonies — the highest decline rate in the survey’s 14-year history. Average annual losses have typically hovered at about 41%.

The losses were even more dire in Connecticut, where nearly 67% of colonies disappeared during that span, the highest on the East Coast, according to the survey.

“Overall, these results suggest that annual colony loss rates continue to rise, placing growing pressure on the beekeeping industry to maintain the national honeybee population at a stable level,” the study notes. “This ongoing trend presents an increasing challenge to meeting the demand for crop pollination and honey production in the U.S.”

Die-offs are a routine part of raising honeybees. Connecticut beekeepers typically lose about 40% of their colonies each year, said Bill Hesbach, president of the Connecticut Beekeepers Association. Hannan said his annual losses are about 50% to 60% across his three apiaries, two of which are out of state.

The Beekeeping Survey’s 70% loss rate for Connecticut is inflated, Hesbach said, estimating the figure is closer to 45% — less severe but still “significant.” Most of Connecticut’s beekeepers are backyard hobbyists whose losses matched previous years, but some commercial apiaries lost a “tremendous amount of hives,” he added. 

“You can look at (bees) like a crop,” Hesbach said. “Most of the time, in the long run, that crop will average out its yield and its losses. But there’s going to be years when there’s tremendous losses and very despondent beekeepers.”

Across the country, honeybees pollinate about 100 commercial crops and, along with other pollinators, including bumblebees, butterflies and hummingbirds, are responsible for about a third of all food and beverages.

Honeybees first began disappearing in large numbers in about 2006 and 2007 — a mystery that became known as “colony collapse disorder.” The decline was likely driven by pesticide exposure, parasites and a loss of wildflowers, said Sarah Lawson, an assistant biology professor at Quinnipiac University.

Since then, honeybee populations have rebounded slightly as farmers began treating for mites and planting more floral habitats. But overall, Lawson said, bees are still in decline because the “root causes” that drove the the first wave of colony collapses “were never really addressed.”

Pesticides remain “one of the big drivers” of today’s losses, Lawson said. Chemicals such as neonicotinoids can impair bees’ memory and navigation, leaving them unable to find their way back to their hives. Other dangers include overdevelopment, which wipes out valuable foraging areas, and harmful pests that attack colonies, like the virus-spreading Varroa mite and bears, whose numbers have been increasing in Connecticut.

This year’s losses made the initial colony collapses “look like nothing,” Hannan said. He first blamed pesticides used by local orchards, then acknowledged it was likely a mix of problems. “It’s hard to pinpoint one,” he said. “You get one stressor in there, and then something else happens and then it’s harder to keep them alive.”

Hannan grew up on a small farm in Southbury where his family raised sheep and cattle. He discovered beekeeping in high school, liking that it gave him a chance to be outdoors and “do something different than most people.” He also enjoys seeing how bees interact with one another.

Every year, Hannan trucks his hives to fields and orchards across the state to pollinate pears, apples, blueberries, strawberries, summer squash, winter squash and pumpkins. He earns $90 to $120 per colony, depending on the crop.

Commercial beekeeping rarely turns a profit, and many years, Hannan said he’s just hoping to break even. Losing so many colonies brings even greater economic strain, as he must replace his bees by buying hives from other keepers.

The many challenges, coupled with the minimal payoff, has discouraged young farmers from trying their hand at beekeeping, Hannan said. He jokes with his 14-year-old son that he’s probably better off not entering the business.

For those who do join, big colony losses are inevitable — and the reasons aren’t always clear.

“If you don’t get hit one year, don’t get cocky because you’re going to get hit the next,” Hannan said. “I’ve seen it happen to a lot of good beekeepers, where they’re third or fourth generation and they’re still scratching their head because they don’t know what happened.”

Many of the state’s backyard beekeepers managed to avoid the worst of this year’s die-offs.

Lauren Doninger, who runs Yellow House Honey in Hamden, said all 10 to 12 of her colonies survived this past year. She regularly sees a 100% survival rate.

Still, Doninger said she has noticed changes. She usually receives about eight or nine calls every year to collect bee swarms from yards. Swarming involves a large group of bees splitting off to form new hives, a healthy sign of reproduction.

This past year, Doninger said she got only one swarm call. Her theory is that “because so many fewer bees survives over winter, there were fewer colonies available to swarm.”

The loss of honeybees has spurred conservation efforts across Connecticut. Several municipalities, including Bridgeport and New Milford and West Hartford, have adopted pesticide-free practices and pollinator-friendly planting. So have the University of Connecticut and Quinnipiac University, which are both affiliated with the Bee Campus USA program. Some have enrolled in beekeeping classes. Others have started pollinator gardens and bee highways. 

This year, Connecticut also passed a law banning the use of neonicotinoids on lawns, golf courses and other turf areas — a major win for environmental advocates who had spent years pushing for those restrictions. The law will take effect in 2027.

Connecticut is home to nearly 400 bee species, and some, such as bumblebees, are also struggling. Lawson said she was especially concerned about these wild species because they don’t have beekeepers managing them the way honeybees do.

“I think we need to be more careful about how we’re using our pesticides and using a precautionary principle going forward instead of releasing the pesticides and seeing what happens,” Lawson said.

New defenses against harmful pests are also giving beekeepers hope. The Environmental Protection Agency recently approved Norroa, an RNA-based treatment for Varroa mites that Connecticut and a dozen other states have already adopted, Hesbach said. The treatment gives beekeepers a new tool in the decades-long fight against the parasites.

Despite the overwhelming losses, Hannan said he isn’t giving up. He’s rebuilding his colonies for next season, hoping it won’t be as devastating. “I started when I was 15 and I’m 51 now,” he said. “So what do I have left?”