In a quiet corner of a community garden in New Haven, Connecticut, a beehive waits patiently. Seven teenagers gather here, ready to check on its health. Before they begin, they prepare carefully. Under a large oak tree, they put on bee suits in soft shades of pink, white, and pale green. They also wear gloves and face coverings to protect themselves from stings.
They stand in the mist of smoke from a handheld smoker filled with burning pine needles. This smoke calms the bees by masking their pheromones. The teens take a deep breath, calm their nerves, and approach the hive.
These young beekeepers are part of the Huneebee Project, a nonprofit that offers beekeeping training with a focus on therapy. It mainly serves teens who have experienced the foster care system. Since 2018, the project has graduated 11 groups from its 15-week program. The program teaches job skills and builds community—both human and insect—while caring for the hive.
Tim Dutcher, the lead instructor, guides the teens as they inspect a hive they recently painted and installed. The wooden boxes are about the size of file cabinets. As the teens become more comfortable, they take turns holding frames they built themselves. These frames are now covered with thousands of busy bees making honeycomb. The queen is healthy, and new eggs, larvae, and pupae are growing. Everything looks good.
Ray, a lively 16-year-old in the group, is amazed as he holds a frame for the first time. He says he already feels calm being near the bees.
Sarah Taylor, founder of Huneebee and a licensed clinical social worker, explains that beekeeping helps these youths heal from depression, anxiety, and trauma. Many have had difficult childhoods. The connection the teens feel with the bees offers hope. “There’s something uniting and wholesome in beekeeping,” she says.
Many teens join Huneebee on their therapist’s recommendation, as a hands-on way to support mental health. For some, like Ray, traditional talk therapy does not always feel right.
Beekeeping is also helping others beyond New Haven. Research shows that veterans who take up beekeeping experience less anxiety and depression and better overall health. College students who join beekeeping programs report reduced stress and improved well-being.
The buzzing of a hive appears to help people feel less alone. This has led to a new kind of therapy that is already changing lives.
Taylor describes how opening a hive lets the teens leave behind their worries. “They find a moment of peace and amazement,” she says.
Adam Ingrao knows this feeling well. After leaving the military due to injuries, he struggled with pain and survivor’s guilt. Prescribed opioids and alcohol, he searched for a way forward. In college, he discovered bees, and his life changed. “The first time I entered a bee yard, it was transformative,” he says. He found calm and purpose among the bees.
Ingrao earned a PhD in entomology and has taught beekeeping to over 15,000 veterans through Heroes to Hives, a program combining beekeeping with mindfulness and therapy.
Ingrao’s research, done with the Manchester VA and University of New Hampshire, was the first to provide scientific evidence of beekeeping’s mental health benefits for veterans. Participants showed less anxiety and depression and felt healthier overall.
Like other animal-assisted therapies, Heroes to Hives mixes practical beekeeping skills with mind-body exercises like yoga and breathing techniques.
At Huneebee in Connecticut, teens do grounding exercises before approaching hives. These help them focus and connect with the sensory experience, such as the sound of bees moving inside the hive. One apprentice called it “a choir of bees singing.” The mindfulness they develop also helps them keep the bees safe.
“If you’re not focused on your bees,” Ingrao says, “they’ll let you know.”
For people dealing with trauma, the hive requires presence and focus. This can help break the habit of hiding away. The hive also creates a sense of community and connection.
Amelia Mraz, a former psychology student who struggled with anxiety and depression, took a beekeeping course that felt meditative and healing. She now runs an apiary in Philadelphia called Half Mad Honey. There, she helps others find healing outside traditional clinical settings.
Mraz co-authored a study showing that therapeutic beekeeping reduced stress and improved well-being in college students.
Taylor notes that beekeeping teaches teens to manage fear in a safe space. Facing their fears with protection helps them regain control and build resilience that they can use in other parts of life.
During a recent visit to the New Haven garden, one young beekeeper panicked when bees first emerged. Another reassured her the suit was protective, calming her.
The small groups of five to seven teens allow for close connection to the bees and to each other. For many, caring for the hive offers kinship and purpose.
Ingrao calls beekeeping an identity. “You are a beekeeper,” he says. “It’s recognized by the public.”
Alex Guzman, a New Haven resident, started the program at 14. Bullied and struggling with social anxiety and trauma, she found beekeeping helped her breathe and clear her mind. After finishing the program, she became a junior instructor. She now visits schools to teach about bees. At 21, she is ready to manage her own hive.
“Through beekeeping, I started finding more importance in other things — like going outside and taking care of what’s around me,” Guzman says.
Taylor recalls a difficult moment when she and Guzman found a “deadout” hive—one that had lost all its bees over winter. Though heartbreaking, the experience opened conversations about life, loss, and renewal. Soon, the hive would be repopulated with new bees.
“Bees are a perfect example of what a community should look like,” Guzman says. “A bunch of people getting together to make something better and bigger than themselves that others can build on.”
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