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The nectar started flowing in Sangerville about three weeks ago, and the honeybees are busy.
On a tour this week of his hives on a hill at Nubik Ranch, Paul Borowski noted the millions of bees were already better organized than they had been in April as they came and went, carrying pollen.
At midmorning, many were out foraging on the 40-plus acres of former potato fields turned into an organic no-till “bee pasture” that Borowski maintains just for them, the first of its kind in Maine. It’s dotted with dandelions and clover now, with goldenrod to follow.
He’s cultivated the pasture to support his commercial beekeeping operation, which includes producing honey for sale and beehive colonies and queens that he raises and sells to other beekeepers, many of them local hobbyists like Borowski once was.
“I’m a fully self-taught, kind of crazy guy,” he said Tuesday in the shop where he processes raw honey flavored by flowers the bees are exposed to: clover, blueberry and wildflower.
Borowski mows his pasture and tends it specifically for honeybees, making it different from the “No Mow May” initiatives around Maine that leave plants uncut in the spring to provide habitat for native pollinators. But his approach would work at a smaller scale for anyone keeping bees, he said, and provides a reliable source of safe nectar for the honey he makes.
“Everything falls into place. So I don’t want to rely on [the] clover of somebody else. I can plant my own,” he said. “That’s why I invest the money and equipment, and it’s just kind of a little bit crazy…but you’re kind of passionate about it, and enjoy it.”
Borowski had little experience with agriculture when he bought the Piscataquis County farm where he lives with his wife, Nubia, in 2012. But honey was a popular sweetener during his childhood in the country of Poland, and his father collected different honeys made from the nectar of different flowers.
He started out as a small-scale beekeeper and slowly grew into a commercial operation; he now has 300 to 350 hives, selling some throughout the season.
It just made sense to use the land to provide food for them, he said. He soon found a “no-till drill” tractor attachment that plants seeds by drilling them into the ground without disturbing it by plowing. That keeps the soil intact and makes it healthier, decreasing erosion and runoff while improving its structure.
He’ll also mow strategically throughout the season to keep trees from growing up, and will cut back grass so clover blossoms are exposed for the bees.
The land is the first pasture certified organic specifically for feeding honeybees in Maine. Agricultural researchers in Maine and elsewhere have recommended creating smaller bee pastures near farm fields to attract wild pollinators.
In the third week of May, the bees at Nubik Ranch were busy. The wind drew the smell of honey out of their hives. Borowski keeps hives in separate “yards” organized by age.
“They’re funny creatures,” he said several times Tuesday, bees buzzing loudly from all directions.
His honeybees, originally sourced from commercial genetics developed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, are different from the hundreds of native pollinators that many increasingly want to protect. He equates them more to livestock and breeds generations of them himself at the farm.
But backyard beekeeping is also very popular in Maine, he said, and the idea behind the pasture functions the same for one acre of land or 45.
By the end of September, the pollen will be gone. Some New England commercial beekeepers bring their stock south for the winter; Borowski’s will remain on the ranch, the hives wrapped to withstand the cold winds.
Some die off, but overwintering them makes them better adapted to Maine conditions, Borowski said. He’s one of the few commercial beekeepers in Maine selling overwintered queens, according to a Maine State Beekeepers Association directory.
On a warm day in February, he might give them a drink of sugar syrup to keep them going until the nectar appears again. He’ll create new colonies by splitting existing ones apart.
Borowski is still mostly a one-man operation, as he said it’s hard to find skilled help.
“Plus, you have to be resilient to venom,” he said, referring to frequent bee stings.
He works from morning until dark in season, monitoring the development of colonies, preparing them for customers, maintaining the pasture and processing honey.
Once grass is established and tilling stops, “it just kind of starts to thrive,” he said of the pasture land.













