Movies of War

1 of 3 2 of 3 At the moment we connect, Mischa Farivar is bottling honey. Not in a quaint, postcard sort of way, this is the working reality of a commercial beekeeper in late winter, where days are dictated by what the bees, the season, and the business require.“Farming isn’t a nine-to-five,” he jokes. “It’s more like five-to-nine.”Farivar owns and operates Golden Cariboo Honey, a multi-generational beekeeping operation in Lillooet, B.C.He didn’t grow up on the farm. He grew up in downtown Toronto, far from bee yards and orchards, and spent much of his early career as an entrepreneur, running skateboard shops in Toronto and Vancouver.The pivot came later in life, driven by family, timing, and a sense that something needed to change.“I always wanted to spend time with my grandparents and learn from them,” he said.His grandfather, a biologist, owned a small orchard, and his great-uncle managed the beekeeping business, and was approaching retirement. Farivar planned to give it a year and planned to learn the work, help where he could, then move on.Instead, he stayed.“I looked around and thought, this place is alright,” he said. “And I was pretty sure I could do it.”What Farivar took on wasn’t a turnkey operation. The business had history, connections, and a name. But it was also narrow in scope, focused almost entirely on honey production.When he ran the numbers, the conclusion was blunt.“If this is only a honey business, I quit right now,” he said.The economics didn’t work for a younger farmer with a mortgage, vehicles to replace, and infrastructure to maintain. So Farivar rebuilt the business model. Today, the operation produces honey, but that’s only part of the picture. It also breeds and sells queens across Canada and supplies nucleus colonies to commercial beekeepers throughout Western Canada.“That diversification is the only reason it works,” he said.Through the season, Farivar and his team are in the bee yards every day. Tasks shift constantly: feeding in spring, disease management, honey extraction, queen breeding, and fall preparation. No two weeks are alike.“You’re up at dawn and home at dusk, seven days a week in the summer,” he says.Despite the grind, he speaks about beekeeping with unmistakable passion. The appeal isn’t just producing food or working outdoors. For Farivar, it’s the reach of the work.“Beekeeping puts you on everyone else’s farm,” he said. “You’re paying attention to the entire region-weather patterns, elevation, what’s blooming where, who sprayed what and when.”He knows which side of the valley blooms first, where creek draws produce better pollen, and how microclimates shape colony health.“It’s incredibly intellectually stimulating. Everything matters.”One of the most consequential decisions Farivar made early was to stop importing bees. In Canada, many commercial operations rely on imported queens and package bees, often from thousands of kilometres away. That creates risks, such as disease, stress, and unpredictable performance.“Other people’s bees are expensive, and they’re kind of dangerous.”Instead, Farivar committed to breeding his own queens and building colonies. He built equipment by hand and grew his stock through labour. Over time, the approach proved not just viable, but resilient.“We buy zero bees,” said Farivar, a director of the BC Honey Producers. “Unless it’s a small number of Canadian queens brought in for genetics.”The result is a closed-loop system tailored to local conditions: winter-hardy, disease-resistant bees adapted to the region. Farivar is quick to point out that this isn’t a fringe, idealistic experiment.“This is a robust business model,” he said. “It pays itself back in two or three years, which in farming is incredible.”So why hasn’t the industry broadly adopted it?“Culture,” he said, without hesitation. “People do what they’ve always done.”If Farivar had the ear of policymakers, his top priority wouldn’t be a new subsidy. It would be something simpler-and more disruptive.“Stop importing honey,” he said.Canada imports vast quantities of cheap honey, driving bulk prices down to levels that make domestic self-sufficiency nearly impossible. For local beekeepers to thrive, Farivar estimates bulk prices would need to double.“Countries that don’t import honey have strong, self-sufficient beekeeping industries,” he said, pointing to New Zealand as an example. “If imports stopped tomorrow, 90 percent of our problems would disappear.”For Farivar, beekeeping isn’t lifestyle branding. It’s systems, economics, ecology, and patience, layered together, one season at a time. And as a new generation takes the reins, he believes the industry is ready to change.As land prices rise and climate pressures intensify, farming grows more complex. The Young Farmers Series spotlights the B.C. farmers adapting to keep food on our tables. Young Farmers Series is made possible by a partnership between OMG and BC Dairy. Join the discussion Facebook comments not loading? Please check your browser settings to ensure that it is not blocking Facebook from running on straight.com