Wild honey hunting practice in Nepal
A beekeeper’s life is not easy, but bee hunters live in a completely different world. In case you’re wondering what I’m talking about, bee hunting is an ancient art form practiced by some Himalayan civilizations over the last 10,000 years. It was done in 8,000 BC, and it is being done now… and it’s completely insane.
Ancient art
A rope ladder, long spears, something to start a fire, and tremendous willpower are required. It’s a brutal battle for a valuable resource. Teams of men gather twice a year in the Nepalese Himalayan foothills to go hunting. What are they looking for? The honey of Apis laboriosa, the world’s largest honeybee.
Apis laboriosa is more than twice the size of regular honey bees, with single adults reaching a length of 3 cm. It can only be found in the Himalayas, in the mountainous regions of Bhutan, Yunnan, India, and Nepal. It primarily nests at altitudes ranging from 2,500 to 3,000 m (8,200 to 9,800 ft), constructing very large nests under overhangs on the south-western faces of vertical cliffs. A single next can contain enormous amounts of honey – approximately 60 kg (130 lb) of honey – and this honey costs on average five times more than regular honey, not only due to its distinct taste, scarcity, and purported medicinal value, but also due to intoxicating properties. The bees gather nectar from a type of rhododendron that contains grayanotoxin.
Nepal’s Gurung tribesmen are particularly well-known honey hunters. Gurungs, like Sherpa, are mountain valley natives of Nepal. To poke and destroy the hives, which are placed on inaccessible cliffs facing south for more sunlight and reduced predator access, they use handmade rope ladders and long sticks known as tangos.
The entire event usually lasts three days, and no time is wasted. Before beginning a hunt, honey hunters perform a ceremony to appease the cliff gods. The elaborate ceremony entails sacrificing a sheep, offering flowers, fruits, and rice, and praying to the cliff gods for a safe hunt – but hunting is rarely safe.
A stranger in an unfamiliar land
If photographer Andrew Newey hadn’t gone on a bee hunt in December 2013, our knowledge of bees would be much limited. He endured two weeks with the Gurung people and returned with an incredible story and photographs to back it up.
It’s finally time to go after the nets have been made, the ceremony has concluded, and everyone is ready. It’s a long walk, but the Gurung are used to finding hives. The hunters then climb 2-300 feet (60-90 meters) up a cliff, wearing little protective clothing. They build fires and use smoke to sedate and confuse the bees, and they use long bamboo sticks to chisel away at the hives. Underneath, large baskets are placed to collect fallen honey. It’s a difficult and dangerous task. Many people are injured, and some are killed, but most hunters have learned to ignore the tens or hundreds of bee stings. It’s a way of life for the Gurung.
It is, indeed, a monumental task for the person on the rope. Dazzled by the smoke, stung by bees, a moment of silence and precision in the midst of chaos. Blood is always spilled alongside the honey – it’s one of the unavoidable hardships of this rugged way of life.
A battle, a prize
After the event, the villagers return home with approximately 20 kg of honey. Although there are now a few specialized hunters who work for several villages, the whole thing still has a religious undertone and is deeply rooted in local traditions.
The honey is distributed to all villagers, with the first use being, of course, tea. Newey was frequently asked how he learned about the hunt and when it would take place. Hunters are wary of divulging their secrets due to the growing damage caused by tourism.