The Bee Man
- T. Senita
- Aug 4
- 2 min read
As a little girl, I didn’t know his name.
To me, he was simply…
The Bee Man.
My dad grew up in a little town called Meiners Oaks in Ventura County.
Sometimes when we visited my grandparents, I remember going to see him.
.....or maybe I only remember seeing his picture.
The truth is, after all these years, I can’t honestly tell you which it was.
Memory is funny that way.
But I can still see that honey jar.
On the back was a picture of a man wearing bees like a beard.
Thousands of them.
I remember staring at it and thinking…
Who is this person?
How could someone be so brave?
Or maybe so crazy.
What made him so special that the bees wouldn’t sting him?
I was completely fascinated.
I don’t remember asking those questions out loud.
I just remember wondering.
My dad loved honey.
I don’t think I understood that then.
I do now.
Most mornings, he’d eat Grape-Nuts with honey, and if there was warm cornbread around, you could bet there’d be honey on that too. He always said the honey you bought from a beekeeper was better than the honey from the grocery store. As a child, of course I believed him. He was my dad. Besides, I thought it was pretty neat that we weren’t just buying honey, we were buying it from the person who made it, from the man who wasn’t afraid of bees. There was something special about that.
Years later, I learned that my dad was right. Not just because local honey tastes better.
The more I learned, the more I realized how different raw honey really is.
It hasn’t been stripped, filtered, blended, or altered the way so much commercial honey has.
It carries the story of the flowers the bees visited.
The more I learned about bees, the more I understood why beekeepers care so deeply about protecting that.
Looking back now, I realize my dad wasn’t just buying honey.
He was supporting a local beekeeper.
A funny thing happened a few weeks ago. While I was writing these stories, I realized I couldn’t remember the Bee Man’s name. I searched “Bee Man Ventura County.”
When his photograph appeared on my screen, I immediately recognized it.
His name was Biggers.
Seeing that picture again brought me right back to being that little girl, staring at a man covered in bees and wondering what kind of person would ever do such a thing.
Back then, I thought he was fascinating.
Now…
I think he helped plant a seed.
Maybe he never knew it.
Maybe my dad didn’t either.
But years later, here I am.
Keeping bees of my own.
Looking back now, I can see the thread a little more clearly.
I just didn’t know I was following it yet.
Thank you for spending a little time in the hive today.
Until next time,
~ Tracy 🐝
You can find more information about Mr Biggers here:
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