Beekeeper Tim Dutcher stands beside a hive, gripping a smoker and listening to the hum of the colony, a sound he’s learned to read over time. 

“Their alarm pheromone almost smells like a banana peel,” says Dutcher. According to him, the odor acts as the bees’ emergency broadcast. Like a siren, it mobilizes the colony into defense. 

But with a few puffs of smoke, Dutcher interrupts the signal and prevents the colony from coordinating defenses to ward off attacks. 

Today, Dutcher is teaching visitors to understand bees.

They’re at the Community Hive Check — a free initiative hosted by Huneebee Project. The hive check invites the public twice a month to step into Dutcher’s apiary and learn about pollination and bee biology.   

“I think that bees, even though they’re not native to this ecosystem, are a really good entry point for people to start noticing flowers and insects,” Dutcher tells the News. 

The Huneebee Project became its own nonprofit in 2018 with the mission of providing job training and therapeutic work to youth. 

The hive checks followed shortly after to provide environmental education to the wider community while helping people of all ages invest in local ecosystems and bee populations. They’re open to anyone who stops by.

Dutcher offers tips on how to spot and approach different species to minimize fear.  The garden serves as an open air classroom, alive with different insects zipping from flower to flower. There, he pages through close-up images of bee anatomy. 

“I really enjoy answering people’s questions,” he says. 

The participants suit up to inspect the hives. Dutcher uses a hive tool to pry open the top of the apiary, breaking through the sticky propolis that seals them shut. 

For Dutcher, beekeeping is both an art and a science that involves careful consideration. He gives participants the opportunity to familiarize themselves with the bees at their own pace. 

“Watching the sort of connection that people make with the bees for the first time, it’s really great to see,” he says. “I pay really close attention to what’s happening, not only with the bees but with people’s bodies and hands and how people are standing.”  

Dutcher chooses his gentle colonies for teaching, but if he hears the high pitched buzz akin to an aggressive bee, he proceeds with caution. He must ensure nobody aggravates the bees or gets stung.

Having developed a silent relationship with individual hives, he moves around the hives with a practiced calm. 

“It’s sort of like a level of observation that gets more and more fine tuned the longer you do it, until it starts to feel like you’re communicating in some way when I think it’s really just you’re observing and noticing details,” Dutcher says. 

Dutcher’s relationship with the bees shines through as he identifies larvae on the comb and bees from the spots on their backs. He skips the gloves and beekeeping suit when he pulls the frames out one by one. 

The participants break the wax cappings to try a drop of honey. Dutcher catches some drone bees in his hand before closing the hive. The participants briefly hold the drones before they fly off into the sky.

Dutcher’s most recent hive check might be done for now, but Huneebee’s commitment to the native ecosystem is everlasting.

The Community Hive Checks are hosted on 14 Rosette St.

This article was written for the Yale Daily News’ 2025 Summer Journalism Program for high school students.