I first encountered the story of the Himalayan giant honey bee (Apis laboriosa) on Together for Bees, the article “The Himalayan Honey Bee and its mysterious mad honey,” which I published in November 2025. That piece introduced readers to one of nature’s most extraordinary species and explored the ancient, perilous tradition of honey hunting in Nepal — a tradition deeply tied to culture, medicine, and survival.
It was through this work that I met Rashmi, a remarkable woman from Nepal whose life has been dedicated for more than eight years to protecting these magnificent wild bees and the communities that live alongside them. What drew us together was not just a shared interest in Apis laboriosa, but a deep love for wild places and a fierce commitment to their conservation.
A chain of life: bees, people, and the fragil balance
From the moment we first connected, it became clear to me that our world is held together by an intricate natural chain — one that begins with bees and culminates with us. When we fail to protect the source of that chain, everything downstream suffers: the plants that need pollination, the animals that thrive in biodiverse habitats, and ultimately, the human cultures that depend on both.
The Himalayan giant bee is at the heart of this chain. These bees build their massive open combs on vertical cliff faces high in the Himalayas, sometimes up to 4,000 meters above sea level. Their size — significantly larger than typical honey bees — and their unique cliffside habitat make them distinctive among pollinators.
But human pressure — ranging from unregulated commercial honey harvesting to infrastructure expansion and climate shifts — is pushing this species toward a precarious future.
Meeting Rashmi
In 2025, when we first spoke, I was struck by Rashmi’s deep understanding of both the science and the soul of this work — how ecology and culture are inseparable in the Himalayas.
Her journey isn’t just scientific — it’s personal. She often speaks about the bee as a symbol of resilience, and as a reminder that wild ecosystems are knit together by relationships we are only beginning to understand.
Himalayan Giant Bee
Diana: Do you remember what first drew you to work with the Himalayan giant bee? What made you stay with this work for so long?
Rashmi: What first drew me to the Himalayan giant bee was curiosity , but what made me stay was responsibility and knowing how these bees play important roles in himalayan regions and our environment.
Born and grew up witnessed honey hunting in Lamjung, I was always familiar with the honey hunting communities, when I got to witness the hunters hanging in the handmade wooden ladders hundreds of feet above the ground, risking their lives harvesting this rare honey, I saw the nature of Apis laboriosa – wild, intelligent, untamed. And I saw how deeply this tradition was tied to identity and survival.
Over time, I understand that this was not just about honey. It was about protecting an ecosystem, supporting indigenous knowledge, and creating fair value for communities who had been following these practices for centuries.
For more than eight years, I have worked closely with over 84 honey-hunting communities across Nepal. Travelling every season, staying in their homes, listening to their stories, and understanding their struggles is what kept me committed. The bee became a symbol of resilience for me. If we protect the bee, we protect everything connected to it.
Tradition and Risk: Honey Hunting in Nepal
In Nepal, traditional honey hunting is more than a job — it’s a ritual and a heritage. For centuries, indigenous communities such as the Gurung have used handmade bamboo ladders and ropes to descend steep cliff walls, calming swarming bees with smoke and harvesting honey with great care.
This practice has spiritual and cultural dimensions, performed with respect to nature and the gods believed to reside in the mountains. It is not merely about extraction, but a delicate dance between people and the wild.
Himalayan Giant Bee
Diana Dyba: Can you describe what traditional honey hunting means to the communities you work with? What do outsiders tend to misunderstand?
Rashmi: Traditional honey hunting is not simply harvesting the honey, it’s a ceremony, prayer, and ancestral knowledge that has been passed from the generations.
Twice a year, honey hunting community combinely come together to perform this rituals,
Before climbing, hunters perform rituals to honor the mountain spirits and the god of bees. They believe the bees are not just insects but guardians of the cliffs. The process requires skill, patience, and deep ecological understanding.
What outsiders often misunderstand is that this practice is not reckless extraction. The way this honey has been marketed and how the story is being portrayed in western world has deeply affected the community and their works. Traditionally, only part of the comb was taken, leaving brood and structure so colonies could survive. The goal was balance, not profit and support the bee breeding cycle. Honey hunters follow a strict seasonal and spiritual timeline, often tied to the lunar calendar.
While today, when outsiders arrive only to film or commercialize, they are harvesting in the wrong time, season and often for money the whole colonies are destroyed. That is what concerns me most.
Medicinal honey or misunderstood treasure?
The honey produced by Apis laboriosa — commonly known as mad honey — is infamous in global media for its psychoactive reputation. It contains grayanotoxins, compounds from rhododendron nectar that can produce dizziness, nausea, or mild intoxication in humans when consumed in high doses.
But within Himalayan cultures, this honey has been used for generations as a natural medicine. Small, controlled amounts have been valued for their soothing, therapeutic properties — to boost stamina, ease pain, and support well-being.
The world, however, has often reduced this sacred substance to a commodity — a “psychedelic” product to be sold and overharvested without regard for tradition or sustainability.
Diana Dyba: What does mad honey mean to the people of Nepal, and how is that different from how the global market treats it?
Rashmi: For local communities, mad honey is natural medicine and heritage.
It is used in small amounts , for stamina, joint pain, digestion, blood pressure regulation, and as a seasonal tonic. Elders understand dosage and respect its potency. It is never consumed carelessly.
The global market often treats it as an exotic psychedelic product. This narrative ignores cultural context and encourages overharvesting. When demand grows without education or sustainability, the pressure on colonies increases.
Himalayan Mad Honey has been used by the local community for its healing and recreational medicinal purposes. Often these days, people are selling it as drugs or narcotic substances, which has diluted the originality and values of this rare honey.
The truth is that medicinal use, cultural respect, and ecological balance are inseparable. When distant markets focus only on profit, they strip these layers away, often to the detriment of both the bees and the people who live alongside them.
Threats to a Fragile Ecosystem
Several forces now converge to threaten the Himalayan giant bee and its environment:
- Climate Change: Shifting patterns of temperature and rainfall disrupt the flowering cycles of rhododendrons and other nectar sources the bees depend on.
- Habitat Loss: Infrastructure development, deforestation, and hydropower projects fragment traditional landscapes.
- Commercial Exploitation: Outside demand for mad honey fuels harvest methods that take complete combs, weakening or destroying colonies.
- Tourism Pressure: Spectacle-driven tourism can distort or damage traditional practices.
Diana Dyba: From your fieldwork, what are the biggest environmental changes you’ve observed that affect the bees?
Rashmi: Climate change is visibly affecting flowering cycles in himalayan regions, the Rhododendron and wildflowers blooms are shifting in timing and intensity. Some seasons produce less nectar.
I have also seen deforestation, road expansion, and hydropower development altering cliff habitats. The value of the honey collected from these bees is nothing in comparison with the ecosystem services that they provide to us in high-altitude biodiversity conservation.
Wild bees love to inhabit nearby water sources, and one honey hive needs four to five litres of water per day. The bees also need the sand and minerals carried by the water to stay healthy. Because of ongoing constructions and hydropower projects near the colonies, the running water sources around the nests dries up, and gradually colonies also start to disappear from the area which makes it harder for colonies to return year after year.
Six years ago, the places where we used to see 20–25 hives now barely hold one or two.
Cultural continuity and the next generation
One of the central challenges is balancing tradition with modern pressures.
Younger members of local communities may be drawn to urban opportunities or discouraged by the risks of cliff hunting. At the same time, ecological pressures reduce the number of accessible hives each year.
Diana Dyba: How do local communities — especially younger generations — view honey hunting and conservation today?
Rashmi: Many younger people are moving overseas for jobs because honey hunting is dangerous and seasonal. Some see it as too risky.
However, when fair trade systems are created when communities receive proper compensation and recognition ,young people begin to value it again.
Recently this wild honey and other herbs has been a major source of income for honey hunting communities. And young people are also participating and following these practices along with their elders.
Conservation must be economically sustainable. If communities cannot survive from their tradition, it will disappear. Supporting ethical trade helps preserve both culture and ecology.
Ethical stewardship and shared responsibility
Protecting the Himalayan giant bee requires more than scientific data — it demands ethical stewardship. This means learning from traditional knowledge, supporting livelihoods, and ensuring that harvesting practices do not deplete what they rely on.
Diana Dyba: Your work combines research, storytelling, and ethical trade. Why is this combination important to you?
Rashmi: Research alone cannot protect the bees. Storytelling alone cannot feed communities and Trade alone can become exploitation.
When we combine all three, we create balance.
Through Medicinal Mad Honey, we are trying to build a model where communities are paid fairly, harvesting is monitored, and customers are educated about dosage and sustainability. Transparency and lab testing are important, but so is cultural respect.
My goal is not to scale endlessly. It has been to build responsibly and preserve this culture and bees.
The world must understand that natural resources like mad honey are not infinite commodities to be consumed without thought. Each country and community has its own ecosystems, histories, and ways of knowing — and all deserve respect.
Those who seek “more” without regard for balance are often the ones who destroy the very richness they came for.
Where we go from here
As I reflect on my connection with Rashmi and the bees of the Himalayas, I am struck by how interwoven our destinies are with the health of wild ecosystems. The health of Apis laboriosa is an indicator — not just of biodiversity high in rocky heights, but of the respect (or lack thereof) we pay to nature itself.
Diana Dyba: What do you hope readers take away from this conversation? What actions can people take to support these bees and their communities?
Rashmi: I hope readers understand about himalayan giant bees and their roles in himalayan regions of Nepal. These bees are not just part of a story or a trend. They are part of forests, real families, and real honey hunters who depend on them.
To support these bees:
- Choose ethically sourced products with transparency.
- Learn about traditional knowledge instead of chasing trends.
- Support conservation efforts in biodiversity regions.
- Respect dosage and cultural story when consuming natural medicines.
- Support conservation work that protects forests and biodiversity in your regions.
- Love and Protect the bees and pollinators in your own regions and community
Even small choices matter. When people choose transparency and ethical sourcing, it directly supports honey-hunting families and helps protect the habitat of the Himalayan giant bees.
If we lose these bees, it will not only affect honey. It will affect forests, pollination, and the entire mountain ecosystem that many communities depend on.
The Himalayan giant bee is more than a biological marvel — it is a symbol of interdependence. It reminds us that conservation is not simply about protecting species, but about preserving relationships: between people and land, tradition and science, care and consumption.
The world needs to pay attention — not just to the cliffside hives of Nepal, but to the choices we make as a global community. Because when we lose the bees at the top of the chain, everything below is at risk.
For more information how support Himalayan Giant Bee please go to Medicinal Mad Honey.
Photos created by: Medicinal Mad Honey (all rights reserved)