The fundamentals of modern beehive management are built on: (1) a protective veil, (2) a smoke generator, (3) a pry bar, and (4) a 'standard' beehive. Every beekeeper has these four basic pieces of equipment – every single one of them.

To protect face and eyes from painful stings, a coarse cloth was roughly wrapped around the head of the early beekeeper. Apparently, somewhere in time, someone stitched in piece of black screened wire in the front of the cloth. Though many veil designs exist today, the veil is essentially unchanged since its early evolution. It was only in the early 70s that fiberglass screened wire was used to replace the older metal screening which would seriously rust when it came in contact with beekeeper perspiration.

The bee smoker was designed and patented by Moses Quimby in 1875. T.F. Bingham modified Moses’ design a bit, but beyond that, the design of the beehive smoker has changed little in 135 years. They are still smelly – even obnoxious – but modern beekeepers continue to look for the best fuel that will generate the best smoke from these time-tested devices.

Who knows what different objects have been used to pry frames from propolis-filled beehives? Screwdrivers and knives are certainly the most commonly improvised hive tools. Today, different designs exist, but after all is said, they are still just pry bars. A scraper device has become our classic hive tool.

Of the four pieces of beekeeping equipment I have mentioned, only the modern beehive captures the very essence of beekeeping. I know, I know, the popular media insists on using the skep as the perpetual symbol for a beehive, but in the U.S., that picture is just plain wrong. The common wooden beehive is the pure image of beekeeping. It is the classic trademark of our industry and historically, we thank L.L. Langstroth for this foundation stone. Future Bee Culture authors will address the history and evolution of Langstroth’s hive far better than I am able to, so I leave that to them. My interest in this piece is the modern-day use of a device that has been little changed since it was patented 158 years ago. Was Langstroth’s idea that good or have subsequent beekeepers just punched themselves out experimenting with new hive designs?

I only speak for myself, but I have an imperfect relationship with our beehive design. On one hand, I love it and my very life is anchored by this simple wooden box. Just a few hours ago, upon returning home from a day trip, I noticed a beehive behind a house that I drive by at least twice a day. Has it been there all this time with foliage masking it? I don’t know and the answer is not important here. The point is that 'I was looking.' In fact, on the entire one-hundred mile ride I took, I was looking for unseen bee boxes. My entire family knows to sound a cry when a beehive is spotted. I may not know or even particularly care for the hive owner, but I feel that I know that hive and the bees in it. Anywhere in the world, when I see a beehive, it’s like seeing a friend – a familiar face. But here’s the oddity – this device that has been used for so long a time has been imperfect for all that time.

Oscar Wilde said, 'When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers.' What if I suddenly had access to a radically new hive design – truly new, not just a tweaked adaption of Langstroth’s concept? Would that make me happier? I think not. You people are a clever lot. If there was truly a simpler design to be had, someone would have come up with it during the past 158 years. I suspect that a truly new hive design would have to be more technical, more complex, more chemically founded than the simple unit we all use now. As a young man, I loved to tinker with cars. As an older man, I would not touch today’s computer-laced vehicles. Such cars require a 'technician' to repair them. My beehives are not perfect, but they are 'the devils I know' and I want to keep them at my level of ingenuity.

The oddity is that our beehive design seems to be a truce of sorts between bees and beekeepers. Honey bees can live in 'modern' hives, but they just as often will live in any suitable empty cavity. Beekeepers and regulatory specialists feel that a 'removable' frame is needed to keep the colony healthy. Through the years, whether or not we have actually helped the bees is an ongoing debate. I sense that the modern beehive is convenient for beekeepers to use and to manage, but apparently, it is not anything special to the bees. Bees persist in building combs their way. Either they have not read our bee books or there are biological reasons why bees want the contorted, twisted combs they naturally build.

Are the bees unable to build straight combs or do they just not want to build straight combs? In the photo, the bees had access to wood frames, plastic frames, and no frames. They were able to do something with all three options. Clearly, bees are resilient. No doubt, that adaptive behavior has helped honey bees essentially colonize the world. Are the bees thriving in my Langstroth hive or do they simply exist in my hive?

In our early bee management years, we tried to manage 'gum' yards. It was an early type of U.S. beekeeping, but we could do better. There must still be such yards somewhere in the U.S. today; but I don’t know of a single such yard. Been there – done that. They’ve all been transferred to Langstroth equipment and for good reason.

The 'modern' albeit 158 year-old Langstroth-designed hive is too heavy for one person to lift, is built around clumsy dimensions, tends to be top heavy when fully supered, requires wide blemish-free pine boards and without hive-top-rocks, the outer cover will blow off in a storm. But the removable framed hive design allows beekeepers to make splits, hive swarms, equalize colonies, monitor queen activities, share food stores and check for brood diseases. It’s not perfect for either beekeepers or bees but no one has been able to improve on the Reverend L. L. Langstroth’s concept. It continues to be genius.