Hello folks who wonder if this country has more sports channels or breakfast cereals,

The price on the shelf doesn't tell the whole story; the cost of an item at the supermarket does not reveal its environmental impact or the long-term health effects. But all that introspection doesn't really matter. What's important is saving enough to take a cruise to a Caribbean island or snap a selfie in front of the Eiffel Tower to show the peasants on social media the life they cannot live.

For most of us, the first image that comes to mind when we think of honey is the familiar bear-shaped bottle sold in stores. The journey of the honey in a bear-shaped bottle to your kitchen table is not a simple one. While some brands pride themselves on domestic sourcing, many others, particularly private-label supermarket brands, rely on a global network of honey producers.

When that honeybee colony gets too close to people, it often pays the ultimate price—its life and its honey. I investigated this firsthand, and you're about to get an exclusive look.

But before we look at the carnage, let's look at their open-air hives.

In India, it's a common practice to prune large tree branches before the monsoon season. This preventative measure ensures that storm winds won't cause the trees to fall and damage nearby cars and property. This tree that was near my home, was left alone since it had an active Giant Honey Bee hive.

So, they called in a team to 'take out' the hive. And I mean that in the most literal, brutal sense. This wasn't a rescue or relocation—it was less of a removal and more of an assassination. The workers' grim reward for destroying the colony was to be paid in kind with its honey and beeswax.

The process begins with smoke, a clever trick to disrupt the bees' chemical alarm system and prevent a massive attack. But not all smoke is created equal. While a beekeeper’s smoker is designed for a clean burn that produces harmless CO₂, the smoldering leaves used by this team create a far more dangerous element: carbon monoxide. This incomplete combustion produces a gas that is poisonous to the very bees they are trying to subdue.

For a honeybee, smoke means one thing: fire. This ancient signal triggers a frantic, instinctual rush to save the colony's most precious resource—honey. They immediately gorge themselves, packing their honey stomachs with the fuel they'll need to abandon their home, find a new location, and survive the grueling task of building an entirely new hive.

Bees instinctively eat honey, unaware that carbon monoxide from the fire is creating a low-oxygen environment. This lack of oxygen weakens them and eventually prevents any oxygen from reaching their cells, killing them.

First, the hive is cut into pieces. These pieces are then lowered into buckets kept in an upright position, which helps the honey collect at the bottom.

Sadly, all these pupating bees will never get to taste the honey their sisters stored in the colony.

After draining the honey from the comb, it’s filtered to remove any remaining bits of wax.

Samples are offered to curious passersby to taste before purchasing. Sir, that honey you’re tasting is blood honey.

The remaining sections of the honeycomb are stacked for wax extraction.

That hive was the birthplace of all these bees and will become the graveyards for all of them as well.

The aftermath.

This post is a bit intense, so let's end with something lighter.