My journey with honey bees began in 2012, when I participated in indigenous trainings that taught me to view the honey bee as a guide for life. I began to understand why our ancestors honored them—not just for their role as pollinators, but for their broader significance to planetary health. Simply being near honey bees brings a unique sense of calm, one that I can’t fully describe. It’s an experience that must be felt personally.

Though I’ve always had a deep connection to nature, this was the moment I saw the natural world in an entirely new light. Nature is not something to be controlled for human gain, but a source of insight, inspiration, and harmony—when we approach it with respect and understanding. After this experience, I felt called to work with bees but didn’t know where to begin. I enrolled in a local mainstream beekeeping course, where I was taught how to split hives and prevent bees from swarming, using chemicals to manage their colonies. I watched as bees were treated as mere production units, their instincts suppressed, and I felt deep sadness. I cried at the thought of what we were doing to them, and I knew this path wasn’t for me.

Through friends, I discovered the Natural Beekeeping Trust, and I was introduced to a community of people who prioritize the bees’ health first. These individuals treated bees with respect and allowed them to live as they naturally would. I came to see the health of the bees as a reflection of the health of our entire ecosystem. It became clear that simply being a ‘beekeeper’ was not enough—true bee health required a holistic approach to ecosystem restoration, including land regeneration.

In 2017, I purchased 10 hectares of land in Central Portugal, which I named Quinta Das Abelhas (Bee Farm). It was a spontaneous decision, but one driven by an inner knowing: a need to create a space where bees could thrive without interference, where they could regain their strength in a natural environment.

We began with traditional hives, Langstroth and Top Bar, and watched as bees naturally swarmed into them. It was a special time of learning and discovery. We allowed the bees to live as they wished, supporting them through land regeneration—transforming the monoculture and improving the soil. During this period, I began to receive insights through the experience of bee stings—each sting was a lesson in self-reflection and growth.

After a few years, we noticed the first hive deaths. Upon inspection, I discovered the hive was covered in mold. I couldn’t fathom living in such conditions, and I realized the hives were unsuited to the climate of Portugal. The thin walls were no match for the heat and humidity. I started to explore research from experts, ecologists and scientists who showed that bees in their natural environments—such as trees—live in far more suitable conditions. Inspired, I began building log hives, which provide better insulation and replicate the conditions bees would experience in the wild.

The transformation was profound. I had the privilege of witnessing a swarm move into one of these log hives in my home in England, a moment that felt deeply connected to creation itself. It was blissful and reaffirmed my belief that bees belong in natural spaces. I continued to learn, participating in workshops with the Natural Beekeeping Trust, including one in Spain where we closed natural cavities in old trees for bees to move into. This was the next step in aligning my practice with my truth: creating real homes for bees.

In 2020, as the world slowed down, I had time to reflect. Our land is in a pine monoculture region—an ecosystem that had been destroyed in the past for timber. I questioned whether my vision could ever come to fruition in such a setting. But during this pause, a fellow bee lover discovered a hive living in a chestnut tree near our land, and I had an epiphany. My true path with bees was clear: supporting them in their natural habitats, in the trees, is key to their survival and to the health of the ecosystem as a whole. This symbiotic relationship is essential, and it became my mission to protect and restore these environments.

Over the course of the ‘lockdown year,’ I walked through the valleys around our land, discovering more ancient chestnut trees among the pine monoculture. On one of these walks, I experienced an even deeper sense of peace. We are actively transforming the monoculture on our land, with chestnut and oak saplings flourishing as the old narrative of pine plantations fades. I realized that the true results of this work may not be seen in my lifetime—perhaps in several hundred years, a swarm of bees will arrive in these trees, finding their natural home. Though this timescale is difficult to accept in a time of ecosystem collapse, my heart knows that this is my role. Once, humans made decisions based on the welfare of the next seven generations. This is the legacy I hope to contribute to.

As I share this journey, my hope is that others experience the power of bees in the wild. I hope they sit beside a hive, witness a swarm, or simply connect with the wonder of honey bees. These creatures are not just part of the natural world—they are vital to our survival, and through a relationship of respect and care, we can ensure their place in the future.

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