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How Wild Bees Winter in Insulated Horizontal Hives

Published February 1, 2026

I, Bernie Harberts, did not use generative AI to write or illustrate this article. Spell check and grammar check, yes. AI, no.

A January storm dumped five inches of snow on us this weekend and I wondered how the swarms of wild bees I’d caught over the last few years were faring. Here’s what I found.

Snow-covered homestead in western North Carolina the morning after a January storm — The scene of the snow: our homestead the day after the storm.

The bees live in five insulated horizontal hives that I built in our hay barn and then placed around our property. Unlike the standard Langstroth hives most beekeepers use, these heavily insulated horizontal hives allow wild bees to live much as they would in nature. It hit eight degrees last night. After a bowl of hot cereal sweetened with comb honey from Star hive, I strapped on my skis to check out the hives.

Star hive, the first insulated horizontal bee hive Bernie Harberts built, blanketed in snow — Star hive blanketed in snow after the January storm. This was the first insulated horizontal hive I built three years ago.

My Five Insulated Horizontal Hives (And How They Got Their Names)

My five horizontal hives include:

Star Hive: First hive that I built. Named after Star motif painted on the sides
Home Hive: The hive closest to the cabin
Hive-omongous: Yes, as in humongous. The biggest (11″ insulated walls) hive that I’ve built
Hood Hive: I caught the bees that live there at our neighbor Craig and Laura Pearson’s
The Bee-lagio: Named after a village in Italy where I thought this hive might fit in. Yeah, that’s a bad word play on Bee Lodge. Uggh…..

Hood Hive insulated horizontal bee hive with snow-covered roof in winter sunlight — Hood Hive sits in morning sunlight after the storm. The bees living here were caught as a swarm at our neighbors Craig and Laura Pearson’s place.

Long Rider Bernie Harberts with mules Brick and Cracker in front of Home hive in summer — Home hive earlier this summer. I’m holding my mules Brick (foreground) and Cracker (hidden). These are the mules I rode from our farm in western North Carolina to Idaho. I wrote about this journey in my book *Two Mules to Triumph*. I’m 5’7″ which will give an idea of the size of these hives.

From Grapefruit-Sized Swarms to Thriving Colonies

Some of the swarms I have caught were tiny, like the first one I ever caught in a bait hive hung in a black walnut tree at the bottom of our hay pasture.

Wild bees coming and going from a swarm trap hung in a black walnut tree — The first swarm of wild bees I ever caught. Here, coming and going from the swarm trap that I caught them in.

That swarm was the size of a grapefruit, small in terms of swarms. I moved it into the first insulated horizontal hive I built, Star hive. It thrived, survived almost three years, and was finally robbed of its honey by Home hive. I salvaged 12 pounds of honey before it was carried off. The honey was amazing. Some of it tasted like cherry syrup thanks to the cherry trees that grow not far from the hive. Other portions had a lovely, light piney taste.

Here are some photos of building Star hive and populating it with the bees I caught.

A Brief History of Star Hive

Mule Polly checking out Star hive under construction with blue foam board insulation visible — Mule Polly checking out Star hive as I’m building it. The hive’s wall are insulated with 4 inches of blue foam board (visible in background).

Bernie Harberts preparing to move a wild-caught swarm of bees into Star hive — Preparing to move the wild-caught swarm of bees to Star hive.

Wild bees settled into Star hive with double-deep Langstroth frames — The bees in place. I later added double-deep Langstroth frames to take full advantage of the horizontal hive’s depth.

Star Hive fully set up with a colony of wild bees and a branch across the entrance — Star Hive all set up with a colony of wild bees. The branch at the front entrance disorients the bees for the first few days in their new home. This slows them down as they fly out, forcing them to reorient themselves to the new location. Without this obstacle, they might fly off and get lost because they’re still oriented to where they were moved from.

Other swarms I caught were much larger, like the one I eventually moved into Hive-omongous.

Bernie Harberts catching the largest wild bee swarm he ever moved into Hive-omongous — The biggest swarm I caught. I moved it into the largest hive I have.

Treatment-Free Beekeeping in 11-Inch Walls

Unlike most beekeepers, I don’t treat the bees living in my insulated horizontal hives with chemicals to control varroa mites, foul brood, hive beetles and other ailments that afflict so many bee hives.

Instead, I keep them in heavily insulated horizontal hives that mimic the way bees live in the wild. These hives are up to 11″ thick (as opposed to the 3/4″ walls that most beekeepers use), which keeps the bees cool in summer and warm in winter.

These insulated horizontal hives have brought me a lot of joy, from building them and stocking them with bees I’ve caught in my bait hives to providing us with chemical-free honey. After three treatment-free years, my colonies are thriving, which goes to show that beekeeping doesn’t have to be a labor and chemical intensive pursuit.

During this recent snow, I skied from one hive to the next, seeing them in an entirely new light. The first hive I visited was Home hive, the hive right outside my wife Julia’s and my bedroom window.

Home hive at sunrise in blue winter light after a snowstorm — Home hive as I found it this morning just as the sun came over the ridge next to our cabin. Note the beautiful blue winter light.

A Wintry Quiet at Home Hive

Instead of being surrounded by bright green grass and blooming clover like it is much of the year, it stood in a heavy layer of snow. A thick blanket of snow covered the roof. The entrance hole was quiet, unlike the spring, summer and fall, when the 1″ entrance boiled with bees carrying yellow, orange, tan and sometimes purple balls of pollen on the pollen baskets on their hind legs. The rough-sawn hemlock felt cool to my touch in the morning light, not hot like it does in the summer sunshine.

I stuck my ear to the entrance hole. It was silent.

I thought of how, deep inside the 300-pound hive, the bees were quietly arranged around the queen, warm in their winter quarters, taking occasional sips of honey until the nectar flowed.

Quiet snow-covered entrance hole to Home hive in winter — The quiet entrance to home hive.

Close-up of hand-painted folk art decorating a horizontal bee hive — Close up of bee hive folk art.

I took a few photos of Home hive, then skied to the rest of the hives, awash in the peaceful feeling of knowing they were all tucked away safely for winter.

Here are some more photos of my wild bee ski tour.

Take the Ski Bee Tour

The Bee-lagio hive under a walnut tree at the bottom of the hay field in snow — The Bee-lagio hive under the walnut tree at the bottom of our hay field. This is the same tree I caught my first swarm of bees in.

Close-up of the Bee-lagio horizontal hive under a walnut tree — Close up of Bee-Lagio.

Pony Pie covered in snow during winter storm at western North Carolina homestead — Julia’s Haflinger pony Pie hanging out behind Hood hive during the January storm.

Hive-omongous, the largest of the insulated horizontal bee hives, in the snow — Hive-omongous.

Melting snow and ice hanging off the insulated roof of Hive-omongous — Melting snow sliding off the roof of the Hive-omongous. The pitched, shed-style roof is insulated with between 6 to 8 inches of blue foam board.

Tiny paw paw bud held in hand with snow visible in the background, a sign of spring — Sign of spring: a tiny paw paw bud in my hand. Note the snow in the background.

Jars of honey harvested from insulated horizontal hives sitting in the snow — Honey jars in the snow.

Rescue border collie Diggity waiting in the snow for a Frisbee toss — Our rescue border collie Diggity hanging in the snow, waiting for a Frisbee toss. At last count, he’s lost three Frisbees in the snow.

I paused by the creek to listen to it flowing between its snowy banks.

Waiting for Spring

The sun came out as I finished my ski tour. I swung by Home hive for a final look and thought of how, in only a few weeks, the bees will start winging in and out of the now-silent entry hole.

Winter bees. Contrary to popular belief, bees don’t go dormant all winter long in western North Carolina. This is the scene at the entrance to Home Hive in mid-January. Note how one of the bees is hauling pollen.

Wide landscape view of snow-covered field with The Bee-lagio hive under walnut tree in western North Carolina — A final look at the Bee-lagio.

Home hive insulated horizontal bee hive in winter moonlight — The last thing I saw last night: home hive in the moonlight as seen from our bedroom window.

More about the hives at Horizontal Hives for Feral Bees.

More about keeping treatment free bees in horizontal hives.

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