Beekeeper's Joke's Archives


A Collection of the Beekeeper's Jokes from the Beekeeper's Home Pages

Heard a good beekeeper's joke? If not, don't send it in!


What's black and yellow and flies at 30,000 feet? A bee on an airplane.

Why did the bee go to the dermatologist? It had hives.

Why do bees have sticky hair? Because they use honey combs.

Why do bees hum? Because they've forgotten the words.

What is a baby bee? Just a little hum bug.

Where did Noah keep his bees? In his archives.

What's more dangerous than being a fool? Fooling a bee.

What kind of bee is born in the spring? A May bee. Or a May bee not.

Why did the queen bee kick out all the male bees. Well, it was fall. And the males were droning on and on and on.

What does a honey bee never like to see in her wardrobe? Little yellow jackets.

Why do bees buzz? They don't know the words.

What goes zzub-zubb when it travels? A bee flying backwards.

A man who went into a pet shop and said "I'd like to buy a bee please."
"A bee? we don't sell bees."
"Well you've got one in your window ... "


I guess this is funny. A beekeeper drops a hive in a busy park.
(Thankfully, no honey bees were injured in making this clip.)


Two beekeepers had just met.
"How many bees do you have?" asked the first.
"12 million," said the second.
"Wow, that's a lot of bees. How many hives do you keep them in?"
"One."
"Seriously?? You can't keep 12 million bees in just one hive!!!"
"Sure," said the second. "What do I care, they're just bees, let them worry about it."

(Editor's note:  Beekeeper Number Two is a jerk.)


What happened when the bee phoned home?
She got a buzzy signal.


Spring has sprung,
But the bees are not swarming...
Could this be caused by global warming?


What goes zzub, zzub?
A bee flying backwards.


Why do bees hum?
They don't know the words.


There was a crowd of bees flying around one day. These bees were most peculiar. They were powered by gasoline, rather than the allergenic goodies that bees usually eat. As the crowd flew along, periodically a bee or two would start to sputter; it would fly down to a gas station, drink up the gas spilled in fueling a car, and then fly up and rejoin the crowd.

One bee began to sputter a little, but flew right by an open gas station. As he passed the second station, he was coughing badly, but still he flew on.

Finally, as he was on his last fumes, he dove down to a station and gassed up. When he rejoined the crowd, his neighbor challenged him: "Look, you passed right by an open station when you started to get low. You passed another station when you were perilously low. And finally, you ran out of gas just in time to glide into that last station. Are you crazy?"

He replied, "Well, it's like this. The first station was a Gulf station. I really don't like Gulf at all. The second station was a Texaco station. That's even worse. But the third station was an Esso station. Let me tell you, Esso is my brand of gasoline.

You know what they say don't you...

"There's an Esso Bee in every crowd!"


from THONE HUGO, THONEH@btmaa.bel.alcatel.be:

Other famous beekeepers:


To bee or not to bee - Shakespeare
To do is to bee - Nietzsche
To bee is to do - Sartre
Do bee do bee do - Sinatra


A window salesman phoned a beekeeper.

"Hello, Mr. Brown," said the sales rep. "I'm calling because our company replaced all the windows in your honey-house with our triple-glazed weather-tight windows over a year ago, and you still haven't sent us a single payment. I know bekeepers haven't much money, but we really need paid."

Mr. Brown replied, "But you said they'd pay for THEMSELVES in 12 months."


The beekeeper's wife was incredibly neat and tidy. He'd spill honey, she'd be right there to clean it up. He'd drop his bee gloves and cover-alls on the floor, she'd wash 'em and fold 'em. He got up one night at three in the morning to get a glass of water. He came back and she was gone. But the bed was made.


Received indirectly from Red Goldstein:

Two bees ran into each other. One asked the other how things were going.
"Really bad," said the second bee. "The weather has been really wet and damp. There aren't any flowers or pollen, so I can't make any honey."
"No problem," said the first bee. "Just fly down five blocks and turn left and keep going until you see all the cars. There's a Bar Mitzvah going on. There are all kinds of fresh flowers and fresh fruit."
"Thanks for the tip," said the second bee and flew away.


A few hours later the two bees ran into each other again and the first bee asked, "How'd it go?"
"Fine," said the second bee, "It was everything you said it would be."
"Uh, what's that thing on your head?" asked the first bee.
"That's my yarmulke," said the second bee. "I didn't want them to think I was a wasp."


Beekeepers are cheap - mostly because we don't make much money. So when Ron, the beekeeper, needed to see the dentist, he was shocked that it would cost fifty dollars to get a tooth pulled.
"Fifty dollars for five minutes work," the beekeeper said.
"Well," said the dentist, "If you like, I can pull the tooth very slowly."


A beekeeper decided it was time to finish his schooling, so he signed up for classes at the community college.
First day in math class. Professor says, "Some of you may be feeling a little dumb. Don't be intimidated. If anyone here feels especially dumb, please stand up."
No one stood up. After a long pause, the beekeeper stood. Alone.
"Fine," said the professor. "You're feeling a little overwhelmed, a little dumb?"
"Not exactly," said the beekeeper, "But I hate to see you standing all alone."


A very cute girl was giving the beekeeper a haircut in the barber shop.
"How 'bout a date?" he asked.
"Can't, I'm married."
"Well, just tell your husband you're getting together with one of your girl friends," the beekeeper said.
"Tell him yourself," the pretty lady replied. "He's standing behind you. He'll be shaving you."


Here's an old one that most recently appeared in Scientific American:

A fellow dropped by to see his friend, the beekeeper.
On the way in, he passed a pig in the yard. The pig looked fine, except it had one wooden leg.
The friend asked his beekeeper buddy about this.
"We had an accident last month in the shop. A bunch of wax caught on fire. We'd have lost everything, except the pig came running up to the house, squealing and squealing to get our attention. We were able to put the fire out."
The friend didn't understand how this had anything to do with the pig having a wooden leg.
"Oh, Yea," the beekeeper continued, "Well, you know, a pig that good you don't eat all at once!"


The beekeeper and his wife were walking downtown.
"That looks like a happily married couple," the wife said.
"Don't be so sure, my dear," said the husband, "They're probably saying the same thing about us.


Here's something that's been on the net for a couple of years, but I just found it!! (Talk about slow!!) This comes from John Caldiera in Texas - you can view his entire collection at John's Beekeeping Notebook web site.

You may be a beekeeper if...
...The windshield of your vehicle has at least two yellow dots on it.
...You pick up matches at restaurants, even though you don't smoke.
...You don't mow the lawn because the bees are working the weeds.
...You saw Ulee's Gold and didn't think there were enough shots of the bees.
...more...


Three guys decide to play a round of golf: a priest, a psychologist, and a beekeeper.

They got behind a very slow two-some, who, despite a caddy, were taking all day to line up their shots and four-putting every green, and so on. By the 8th hole, the three men are complaining loudly about the slow play ahead. The priest says, "Holy Mary, I pray that they should take some lessons before they play again." The psychologist says, "I swear there are people that like to play golf slowly." The beekeeper says, "I really didn't expect to spend this much time playing a round of golf - I should be extracting."

By the 9th hole, they have had it with slow play, so the psychologist goes to the caddy and demands that they be allowed to play through. The caddy says O.K., but then explains that the two golfers are blind, that both are retired firemen who lost their eyesight saving people in a fire, and that explains their slow play, and would they please not swear and complain so loudly.

The priest is mortified; he says, "Here I am a man of the cloth and I've been swearing at the slow play of two blind men." The psychologist is also mortified; he says, "Here I am a man trained to help others with their problems and I've been complaining about the slow play of two blind men."

The resourceful beekeeper ponders the situation - finally he goes back to the caddy and says, "Listen, next time could they play at night?"


Beekeepers are non-conformists. When my friend Bob was a young beekeeper, he was unusually different, even as far as beekeepers go...
Bob went into the barber's shop and asked to have something really different done to his hair - "I'm tired of looking like everyone else! Part my hair from ear-to-ear, he said.
The barber did as he was told, but Bob came back three hours later and asked for his old style back. "What's wrong?" asked the barber, "I thought you wanted to be a non-conformist."
"I do," said Bob, "But I'm tired of people whispering in my nose!"


A terrible late night storm developed into a tornado in the great beekeeping state of Kansas. It spared the beekeeper's hives and shops, but his little house was ripped apart. Worse, he and his wife were lifted - bed and all - and dropped miles from home. The beekeeper's wife cried and cried. "It's all right," said the beekeeper, "We are OK. You can stop crying." The wife just kept on sobbing, "I know, I know, but this is the first time we've been out of the house at night in years and I'm wearing this old gown!"


A stingy old beekeeper figured out a way to take his money with him when he died. Not that he, a beekeeper, had a lot of money, but what he did have was going to join him in his afterlife.

He instructed his wife to go to the bank and withdraw enough money to fill two pillow cases. He then directed her to take the bags of money to the attic and leave them directly above his bed. His plan: When he passed away, he would reach out and grab the bags on his way to heaven.

Several weeks after the funeral, his widow was up in the attic cleaning, and came upon the two forgotten pillow cases stuffed with cash.

"Oh, that darn fool," she exclaimed, "I knew he should have had me put the money in the basement."


One day a woman went for a walk in her neighborhood and came across a boy with some puppies. 'Would you like a puppy? They aren't ready for new homes quite yet, but they will be in a few weeks!'

'Oh, they're adorable,' the lady said. 'What kind of dogs are they?'
'I think these are bee inspectors.'
'OK. I'll tell my husband.'

So she went home and told her husband. About a week later he came across the lad and the puppies were very active.

'Hey, Mister. Want a puppy?'
'I think my wife spoke with you last week. What kind of dogs are these?'
'Oh. These are beekeepers.'
'I thought you said last week that they were bee inspectors.'
'Yeah, but they've opened their eyes since then.'


Here is a story that Andy Nachbauer posted on the Bee-List in 1996:

A wealthy honey packer died and went to the Pearly Gates. St. Peter interviewed him at the door. 'Can't let you in,' said the Saint, 'because you have lied and cheated.' The honey packer protested and said that he never finished school, and wasn't too good at math, but he never cheated anyone and never lied. He simply bought honey, packaged it, and resold it at a 5 per cent profit. Over the years, this made him rich.
But St. Peter disagreed. 'No, you are lying again,' said Peter, 'You must have charged more for the honey, you can't get rich on five per cent.'
Again the honey packer protested. No, No, he said, I am not that good at math, but I only raised the price five per cent. I would buy honey for a dollar and sell it for five dollars, making five per cent every time!


There is a new law in California which requires beekeepers to carry Bee I.D. papers. This is supposed to slow down the theft and illegal movement of honey bees.

Several years ago, when honey was rising rapidly in value, and bee colonies were being stolen by the thousands in Florida, my brother David was moving 800 of his hives from Florida to Wisconsin. He carried them in the semi-tractor and trailer unit that he owned.

David was pulled over by the cops, who wanted to see his bill of lading, or other proof of purchase, for his cargo. David explained that since he owned the truck, built all the equipment himself, and raised the bees, their was no proof of ownership.

The cop and David walked around the big rig, and the police man, somewhat apologetically, said, 'I can't let you leave here without some proof that you really own these bees.'

But by now, David was getting anxious - it was sunny and the bees were getting hot. If he had to sit there for too long, David might end up with a lot of dead bees. 'Look, Dave says, All my bees are branded, no one else has my brand! The cop stared at him for a minute and said, O.K., Just get out of here.

David, of course was referring to the brand burned into the wooden frames, the covers, bottoms, and the wooden boxes of all his equipment. As Dave drove along, it occurred to him that the police man was probably wondering how the millions of little bees in the truck could each have a tiny little brand on their backs.


This story is based on an e-mail we received a few weeks ago:
Jill lived in a small city and kept bees in the backyard. It was legal to keep bees in the city, but she kept them hidden and didn't tell anyone about the bees because a neighbour had once found out and complained constantly about every flying insect that passed nearby and said he would sue Jill if she didn't get rid of her hives.
But the mean neighbour moved away, and now Jill had a new neighbour - she decided to never tell him about her hives.

For two years, Jill kept the secret of the hives. When the neighbour noticed bees flying around, Jill pretended they were flies. When the neighbour talked about ecology and environment and how important birds and flowers and bees are, Jill bit her tongue and never mentioned her bees, which she continued to keep hidden in the bushes behind her house. Mostly Jill just avoided visiting with the new neighbour.

Finally, the neighbour was moving away. He said to Jill that he was sorry that they never became good friends, and he was wondering if it was because Jill was afraid of the bees that he had been hiding in his back yard for the past two years.


A poor beekeeper prays, "Please Lord, I am a poor beekeeper with a wife. Let me win the lottery."
After a week, nothing has happened, so he prays again, "Please Lord, I'm a poor beekeeper with a wife and children. Let me win the lottery."
After another week, still nothing has happened so he prays, "Please Lord, I'm a poor beekeeper with a grumpy wife and seven children to support, let me win the lottery."
Suddenly a voice booms from the heavens: "All right, all right, I'll do my best, but do me a favour, buy a ticket!"


The beekeeper had a hunting dog and his neighbour had a pet rabbit.
The neighbour said to the beekeeper: "Keep your dog out of my yard, if my rabbit gets out of his cage, your dog will probably kill it!"
Sure enough, the beekeeper drives into his backyard one day, glances across the field and sees his dog with the rabbit in his mouth - and the poor bunny is wet, dirty, and very dead.
So the beekeeper takes the dead rabbit, cleans it off, and puts it back in the neighbour's cage.
The next day, the beekeeper sees his neighbour.
The neighbour says: "Funny thing happened yesterday... Our pet rabbit died, so we buried it in the back field. But when we got home from town last night, the rabbit was back in its cage again!!


Our Thanks to Sue S. at cablelan.net for the following:

...and then... there was this beekeeper at his wits end -- no honey crop --
Well, he was walking past a bank and noticed a little sign saying ---

Beekeepers Loans, 2% ---


So he dashed in and talked to the bank manager regarding the loan, and the bank manager said,
No, that's not the interest rate ---
That's your chances of getting a loan...


One day, Gerry was out working the bees and Jim was bottling honey when a gentleman from the city stopped by to buy fifty pounds of honey. The man gave Jim one hundred dollars, but as the city guy was leaving, Jim noticed that there were two one-hundred dollar bills stuck together, instead of just one.

Jim now had a real dilemma - should he tell his partner Gerry or not?


The back-woods beekeeper went to the big city for the first time in years. His first stop was at a small cafe, where he was served hot coffee in a styrofoam cup. He was puzzled, but the cafe owner explained that the styrofoam would keep the coffee hot and he could take it with him.

Later, the day became very warm and he stopped back for some cold lemonade. It was again served in a styrofoam cup. 'This will keep your drink cold,' explained the cafe owner.

The beekeeper left, wondering how the cups could be so smart.


An elderly beekeeper sold two kinds of honey - the very popular white clover honey and a strong, dark wildflower honey. He kept the tank of clover honey up near the front of his honey house, while his small supply of the wildflower was way in the back of the shop.

One day, three retired fishermen stopped by to buy honey. The first one asked the beekeeper to fill his three pound quart jar with strong, dark wildflower honey. So the beekeeper took the jar, walked way on back in the shed, unscrewed the valve and unlocked the tap, slowly filled the jar with the thick, dark honey. He then shut and sealed the valve, locked the tap, and walked all the way back to the front of his shop. 'Ten Dollars, please, he said, and he was paid.

The beekeeper asked the second fisherman what he wanted to buy.

'Could you also fill my three pound jar with dark wildflower honey, please?'

So the beekeeper started the long walk towards the back of his shop. Suddenly he stopped and turned around. 'Do you also want three pounds of wildflower honey?' he asked the third man. 'No,' said the third fisherman.

The beekeeper repeated his steps, filled the second man's three pound honey container, and returned five minutes later.

'What do you want?' the elderly beekeeper asked the third man.

'I only want ONE pound of dark wildflower, please,' he replied.


A beekeeper had a summer house in the Maine woods. Each summer he'd invite a different friend to spend a week or two. On one occasion, he invited a Czechoslovakian to stay with him. They had a splendid time in the country - rising early and living in the great outdoors.

Early one morning they went out to pick berries for their morning breakfast. As they went around the berry patch along came two huge bears. The beekeeper dashed for cover. His friend wasn't so lucky and the male bear reached him and swallowed him whole. The beekeeper ran back to his car, drove to town as fast has he could, and got the sheriff. The sheriff grabbed his rifle and dashed back to the berry patch with the beekeeper.

Sure enough, both bears were still there. "He's in THAT one!" cried the beekeeper, pointing to the male. The sheriff looked at the bears, and without batting an eye, leveled his gun, took careful aim, and SHOT THE FEMALE! "What d'ya do that for?!" exclaimed the beekeeper, "I said he was in the other!" "Yep," said the sheriff, "and would YOU believe a beekeeper who told you that the Czech was in the Male?"


A beekeeper walks into a pizzeria to order a pizza.

When the pizza is done, he goes up to the counter get it. There a clerk asks him: "Should I cut it into six pieces or eight pieces?"

The beekeeper replies: "I'm feeling really hungry right now. You'd better cut it into eight pieces."


A woman hears from her doctor that she has only half a year to live. The doctor advises her to marry a beekeeper and to move with him to Minnesota. The woman asks: "Will this cure my illness?" The doctor replies: "No, but the half year will seem pretty long."


A traveler wandering on an island inhabited by cannibals comes upon a butcher shop. This shop specialized in human brains sorted out according to source. The sign in the shop read:

Artists' Brains $9/lb
Philosophers' Brains $12/lb
Scientists' Brains $15/lb
Beekeepers' Brains $100/lb

Upon reading the sign, the traveler noted, "My, those beekeepers' brains are expensive - they must be very powerful!" The butcher replied, "Not really. They're expensive because it takes so many beekeepers to get one pound of brains!!"


Amen-ded slightly from the story told in February at the Bay Lake Missionary Baptist Church: A beekeeper was very stressed out. He and his wife went to see the doctor. The doctor examined the beekeeper for some time and then asked to see the man's wife, alone. "Listen," says the doctor, "Your husband is way over-worked. He worries about everything too much. If some big changes aren't made, he will be dead in less than six months." The wife wanted to know what she should do and the doctor replied, "Well, I know you've got a great career, but you'll have to quit your job, stay home with the kids, bake lots of bread and cook lots of vegetables, keep the house spotless, and give the man a big hug around the neck every time you see him..." On the way home, the beekeeper asked his wife what the doctor had talked to her about. The wife looked at her husband and said, "I'm sorry dear, but you're not going to make it."


This is one of my father's favourites: Dad is one of those old-time beekeepers who started with a few hives back in the Depression, finished Grade 8, and was one of the first beekeepers to start the winter/summer migratory route - about fifty years ago! Here's his joke:

A young man showed up to work for the old beekeeper. First day on the job. The beekeeper says, "Paint all those bee hives." The young man looks at all that work and says, "You don't seem to realize - I have a College Education." The old beekeeper thinks for a minute and says, "I'm sorry. I'll show you how to hold the paint brush."


	  
	  
      

 

 

 



 

      

About this website...

The Bad Beekeeping: The Beekeeper's Home Pages website is mostly written by Ron Miksha, who lives and writes in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Ron's honey bee blog is updated at erratic intervals, with sticky new entries typically pasted in weekly. Photos and art are his own - unless otherwise attributed - or are from public domain sources.

Opinions expressed herein do not necessarily express anyone's opinions - not even the author's. Please follow this link, if you insist upon more details.

This site covers almost everything about the beehive, bees, and honey. Ron has worked with bees in Pennsylvania, Florida, Wisconsin, Saskatchewan, and Alberta and peeked into hives on three continents. Read our site for honey bee tips and opinions on everything from colony collapse disorder and Africanized honey bees, to queen bees and bee pollen, to building a hive and hiving a swarm... it's all here, but mostly this site is a chronicle of opinions and observations about the environment, politics, and culture.

Ron has written dozens of bee journal articles and has also penned the book on Bad Beekeeping, which is called "Bad Beekeeping," for obvious reasons. If you are wondering why this blog is sometimes weird and hard to understand, it may be because Ron is also a geophysicist - but has also been a beekeeper for a few dozen years. Ron's family operates Summit Gardens Honey Farms, a western Canada honey bee farm specializing in comb honey. So, this blog might be considered "A Physicist's Guide to Comb Honey Beekeeping Gone Bad".

All comments and opinions are offered without any qualifications, guarantees, or recommendations that any procedures or suggestions offered here will be successful, useful, legal, or safe in your area or with your bee system. This site is largely editorial and sometimes recklessly presented. If you strongly disagree with things you find here, send Ron a note - or keep reading as you are likely to find he also advocates an opposite point of view elsewhere on the website.

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