Australia has lost 60% of its hives since 2022 — Why midsummer is the most dangerous time for the bees still flying, and what you can do about it in 10 seconds.

3 days ago Advertorial

Australia has lost 60% of its hives since 2022 — Why midsummer is the most dangerous time for the bees still flying, and what you can do about it in 10 seconds.

Claire Bowden
Written by Claire Bowden, updated 4 September 2026
Senior Editor • Paddock & Verandah
What bees need is simpler than you think — and harder to provide than it looks.

Australian summers have gone quiet. The hum that used to fill every backyard from Boxing Day right through to March is missing off a lot of streets now. Since a parasite called varroa turned up at the Port of Newcastle in June 2022, at least 60% of this country's hives have gone — not one in ten. Closer to two in three.

So what is it? Varroa is a mite about the size of a sesame seed — 1.6 millimetres, flat, reddish-brown, and you can see it on a bee with the naked eye if you know where to look. It clamps onto her and feeds on her fat body: the organ that runs her immune system and stores her energy. Scale that up to our size and it is a parasite as wide as a dinner plate, riding on your back, feeding on your liver.

A bee that grew up with one on her comes out of the cell lighter and doesn't live as long. And the mite brings deformed wing virus into the brood with it. Here is the part that catches beekeepers out: more than 99 per cent of infected bees never show a crumpled wing. The hive looks fine right up until it isn't.

The mite, the drought, habitat loss — those are the reasons that make the news. But there's one that hardly ever gets a mention: on a 40°C scorcher, a single colony needs up to three litres of water — just to cool the hive. And most Australian backyards haven't got one safe spot that can give it to them.

What most people don't know — facts about bee decline in Australia
60%
of Australia's hives lost since Varroa arrived in 2022
3 L
of water a colony needs daily on hot days — just to cool the hive
290,000
hive shortfall for this year's peak pollination season
1,700+
native bee species here — over 99% with no hive to shelter in

Three litres. Every day. Just to survive.

Honeybees crowded around the last damp patch of a dried-up puddle on cracked earth in a parched Australian backyard
The last damp patch in a backyard in January. When the clean sources dry up, this is what a colony is left with.

In extreme heat, foraging stops. Water collectors head out instead — further and further, because the clean sources dry up first. The small trickles. The dew on the leaves. The damp edge of the dam. They carry it home. Other bees evaporate it with their wings — a biological air conditioner. When the water collectors have to search too long, they exhaust themselves. Some don't come back. The colony weakens during the exact weeks it is under the most stress. Quietly. Invisibly.

And this summer, the Bureau's long-range outlook has above-average days and above-average nights across almost the whole continent, with a strong El Niño already locked in. Water storages in the eastern and southern states are sitting at or below 50%. Plenty of towns are already on restrictions.

It wouldn't take much at all. A clean, safe spot within flying range. Any beekeeper could tell you — they've known it for generations. In most backyards it's been forgotten.


Good intentions aren't enough — why most water sources fail

An old concrete birdbath standing bone dry and empty in a parched Australian backyard, honeybees searching on the rim
By January most backyard birdbaths look like this. The bees keep turning up anyway.

The birdbath is built for birds, not bees. The rim is too steep, too slick — they slip, go under, or give up and move on.

The old saucer out on the pavers cooks within a couple of hours. By early arvo it's bone dry.

The pool out the back looks like the answer from the air and is the worst trap in the whole garden. Smooth coping, sheer walls, not a bit of footing anywhere.

The puddle on the driveway is what's left. They find it because there's nothing else going. But that water carries tyre residue and engine oil — a colony drinking it for weeks heads into autumn a fair bit weaker than it should.


"He wanted to give me something that wouldn't wilt"

Bev Hartigan holding a small ceramic poppy bee bowl on its stake at her tin shed out past Nyngan, far-western NSW
Beverley "Bev" Hartigan (66) at her shed outside Nyngan, out on the red country of far-western New South Wales. Every glaze mixed by hand — every colour a bit different. "That's not a flaw," she reckons. "That's proof someone made it."

Bev's been at the pottery for seventeen years. It started with a birthday present off Col, her husband. He wanted to give her something that wouldn't wilt. The poppy became her signature — simple, open, with a deep well. After seventeen years, more than a dozen of them stood out in the little watered bed beside the tank stand — between the geraniums, the kangaroo paw and the saltbush.

Ceramic poppy bee bowls on stakes among kangaroo paw, everlasting daisies and lavender in a suburban Australian backyard, bees at the rims
In a suburban garden bed they're nearly impossible to pick from the real thing. That was the joke — and the point.

Col's a beekeeper — thirty-eight years on the back paddock. One January, in the middle of a proper scorcher, he tipped a bit of sugar water into one of Bev's bowls. Beekeeper's instinct. Next morning there were three bees sitting on it.

"That's when I started properly watching. Not just making pottery. Properly watching. How they land. Where they land. What's too deep, what's too shallow."


"A bee drinks differently than a bird. Sounds obvious. It wasn't, to me."

What Bev learned in 17 years of observation
  • Bees orient by blossom shapes — a round ceramic bowl between plants is a natural landing signal.
  • Rim depth is everything: too shallow = slip. Too deep = they go under. The current form sits exactly between, at 2–4 mm along the edge.
  • A slightly rougher glaze on the rim gives grip — smooth surfaces get avoided.
  • In garden-bed shade, water evaporates 3× slower than in an open saucer on hot pavers.
  • Clean water makes the difference: driveway puddles with oil in them harm the colony. Fresh water doesn't.
A bee lands on the bowl — exactly the way Bev has watched it happen a thousand times.

They look like flowers. The bees can't tell the difference — and that's the point.

  • Shape from 17 years of observation — rim depth and wall angle tuned to bee behaviour.
  • Handmade ceramic — every bowl thrown, glazed and fired one at a time in a tin shed out past Nyngan.
  • Garden-bed shade advantage — water evaporates far slower than in an open saucer on pavers.
  • Clean water, easily refilled — ten seconds with the watering can.
  • No mozzie problem — larvae need 7–10 days of standing water. A 12 mm bowl topped up of a morning never gives them the week.
  • Blossom shape as signal — works for bees like a natural landing pad.
  • Set of 4 — pink, orange, purple, pale yellow.
Set of four handmade ceramic poppy bee bowls standing upright on stakes in a backyard planter box
Four bowls, four colours — no two identical. Each one from Bev's winter production.
UPDATE: Seventeen winters of centring clay have done both of Bev's thumb joints in, and this is the last batch she'll ever throw. To make sure every last set of Bev's Bee Blossoms finds a garden before the bees need them most, she's letting the remaining sets go at 50% OFF. This is the final winter batch — when it's gone, it's gone for good. See what's still available here >>

What customers are saying

4.8
★★★★★
5,900 sets sold · verified buyers only
★★★★★
"Chucked them in the lavender bed and couldn't believe how quick the bees turned up. Quality is spot on — you can tell it's not mass-produced."
Robyn W. — Bendigo, VIC ✓ Verified
★★★★★
"Perfect present for Mum. Turned up beautifully packed, not a chip on it. She reckons it's the most meaningful thing she's been given in years."
Doug P. — Ballarat, VIC ✓ Verified
★★★★☆
"Beautiful colours and properly handmade — you can see the little irregularities that make each one its own. One stake was a touch short, but I'm not fussed."
Janet O. — Hobart, TAS ✓ Verified

"I make pottery in winter. In summer, the garden owns me."

The current series is this winter's lot. 46 sets still available. The last batch went in eleven days. The bowls are needed now — not come autumn. In midsummer, when a colony needs three litres a day and the water collectors are flying too far. Available exclusively at Backroad Goods.


Bev Hartigan at her potter's wheel in the tin shed, finished glazed poppy bowls on the bench beside her
Each blossom shaped individually at the wheel. "You feel when the form is right — it's in your hands."

30-Day Money-Back Guarantee

Stick the bowls in your garden. See who turns up. If you're not convinced — send them back. No worries, no questions.

Bev spent seventeen years giving these away, not selling them. This isn't the kind of work that comes with fine print.

★★★★★
"Set them up three weeks ago. Now every morning with my cuppa I sit and watch the bees drinking. Absolutely beautiful, and it actually means something."
Steph M. — Fitzroy North, VIC ✓ Verified
★★★★★
"Finally something that works. Tried a birdbath and saucers before — not one bee interested. A week after putting these out: visitors every day."
Mick T. — Toowoomba, QLD ✓ Verified
★★★★★
"Twenty-two years keeping bees out Mudgee way, so I know the water problem back to front. These bowls are well thought out — rim depth, shape, it's all spot on. The missus loves the design. I love the function. Rare to get both."
Trevor H. — Mudgee, NSW ✓ Verified

Set includes 4 handmade ceramic poppy bowls on metal stakes in assorted colours (pink, orange, purple, pale yellow). For the garden, the patio or the balcony. Free shipping Australia-wide. Ships in 3–5 business days.