Bhirri- the Last of the Honey Hunters of Harkot

There is an ancient tradition of harvesting  mo or honey by the Bhirri of the village of Harkot in Uttarakhand, . These Bhirri or honey hunters would to extract honey from the hives of mountain bees (Apis dorsata) found on dangerous rocky cliffs in the forests. Obtaining mo was a communal activity that symbolized courage and the strength of traditional methods. This story reflects how the villagers, together with the Bhirri, would bring mo from the cliffs to every household in the village. However, due to the impacts of climate change, this tradition, like the bees, is on the verge of extinction.

Read this story in Hindi

Swinging on a cliff with the help of ropes, the Bhirri  (honey hunters) had no fear in their eyes—only an unshakable passion. Undeterred by the constant buzzing of bees, they were solely focused on extracting honey from the beehives clinging to the cliff. They knew that at the end of this perilous endeavour, they would find mo (honey) so sweet, that once tasted it would be almost intoxicating.

Mangal Ram, my grandfather, was a witness of this daring tradition that was widely practiced till around forty years ago. Dressed in his Kumaoni attire, with a mountain cap adorning his head, my grandfather called me to sit by the fire after dinner one evening. That night, under a sky glittering with stars, he shared a remarkable story with me. It was a story of a unique harmony between men suspended from towering cliffs, of the struggles of the bees, and of courage and community labour. It was a story from a time when being a Bhirri  was not just considered an occupation—but was a symbol of bravery and tradition.

Four decades ago, the Bhirri of Harkot village used to climb steep cliffs to gather honey from the massive hives of Bhaunr Maun (Apis dorsata). Harkot is an agriculture-based village with a population of about 250 to 300 people, located 5 kilometres from Munsiari in Pithoragarh district, Uttarakhand. From here, one can see the towering mountains of the Gori Valley and the majestic Panchachuli range.

The word “Bhirri ” comes from the Kumaoni language’s term “Bhyar” (beehive), which means bhyar gaadni vaalh – the person who extracts honey and wax (the hexagonal sections of the hive) from the beehive.

Apis dorsata, also known as the Giant Honey Bee, is the largest species of honeybees.  It grows to a length of approximately 17–20 millimetres. In different regions, it is recognized by various names—Giant Rock Bee, Indian Hill Bee, Wild Honey Bee, and Dongar Bee. Its body is robust and covered with dense hair. These bees are known for their aggression, large size, and high-quality honey production. Their honey, rich in medicinal properties, is thicker and more nutritious compared to other types of honey. Beyond honey production, these bees play a crucial role in the ecosystem, particularly in aiding pollination.

In spring, these bees migrate to the hills of the Himalay in search of flowers, and as the cold intensifies, they move to the plains, known as Bhabar regions. They build their hives on tall trees and rocky cliffs in forests, making honey extraction an extremely challenging and daring task.

Refreshing his memories, grandfather said, “The honey extracted by the Bhirri was even sweeter than sweet meats. They say that eating sugar can ruin your teeth, but honey doesn’t. Today I am 86 years old, and I still have no complaints with my teeth.”

After a brief pause, he continued in a serious tone, “but extracting this honey was not easy, it was extremely risky, with the danger of losing one’s life. Only a skilled Bhirri, well versed with the knowledge of this craft could do this work.”

Preparing for the honey hunt

“Every year, during the month of Kartik (October and November), the week of the honey hunt was nothing less than a festival.”

The hills and forests stretching far and wide across this Kumaon Himalayan village would bustle with activity. Before the winter set in, the women of the village would head to the forest to cut grass for their cows. During honey extraction season, they would bring along not only green grass but also a special kind of grass, locally known as the Babiyo Jhaad or ghaas. The English name for Babiyo Jhaad is the Chinese alpine rush, a species of grass that is found in several Himalaya regions including Uttarakhand and Nepal. On regular days, this grass was used to make brooms for sweeping the dust from mud-plastered houses, but during honey extraction, its importance would increase many times over.

“Before the  honey-hunt, Babiyo grass was collected from all the families in the village. If the grass was insufficient, the women would return to the forests and cut more. This was the most important foundational step in preparation of the honey-hunt,” grandfather explained.

The old and the young men of the village would take on the task of making 80 to 100 meters long rope from this grass. The ropes were made so strong and durable that they could bear the full weight of the Bhirri (honey hunters) hanging from steep cliffs. In across the length of the rope, 1 to 1.5 feet long sticks were added in such a way that they formed a ladder-like structure, allowing the honey hunters to climb up and down as needed while maintaining their balance.

This rope-making work was done with great care and patience in the village’s Gau Khaal (the courtyard outside one’s house where grains are dried). After a long day of hard work making the ropes, when someone got tired, another person would take over. Once the rope and wooden sticks were fully prepared, they were gathered and tied into a huge bundle (bhaari). It would take one to two days to braid the grass properly and turn it into a strong ropes. This rope was so sturdy that it was called laad, which means a thick, strong form of rope.

Grandfather fell silent for a moment, as if lost in memories of the past. Then suddenly, he smiled.

He remembered an old saying about a laad—”Puthya ek maishk bhair“—meaning a full load, as heavy as an entire man.

“This was not just a rope; it was a lifeline, woven with the hard work of the entire village. Making a rope from Babiyo grass was an art— a blend of patience, skill, and collective effort,” he said, puffing out his chest with pride.

“But even when the rope was ready, the preparations for extracting honey were far from complete—this was just the beginning,” he added with enthusiasm. At that time, my grandfather was around 40 years old. He would keenly observe the entire process and actively participate in the preparations.

A basket made from Ringal (a species of bamboo), a mesh-covered hat, a bundle of green grass to be burned for smoke to calm the bees, lightweight tin containers to store the honey, and two long wooden sticks—each item was carefully prepared. These sticks, about 8 to 10 feet long, had distinct designs. The first stick called Panyul had a sharp, pointed tip used to cut the honeycomb. The second stick called  Dathul had a slightly curved, sharpened tip resembling a sickle, and was used to carefully extract honey from the comb. The back ends of both sticks were similar in shape.

Additionally, food and other essentials were packed for the Bhirri and their companions, as the process could take several hours. This entire effort was a collective responsibility of every household in the village. Back then, people did not rely on the market— everything was crafted and gathered within the village. Before the honey-hunt, it was mandatory to obtain permission from the Van Panchayat (the forest council of the village forest commons). Extracting honey without permission was considered an offense.

On the fourth day, once all preparations were complete, the men of the village set out with the Bhirri to locate a cliff where sunlight, shade, and water were available in the right balance—since Apis dorsata (the giant honeybee) preferred such spots for building its hive. Some men would accompany the Bhirri to the top of the cliff, while others would position themselves at the base of the steep rock face. This was the moment when a tradition passed down for generations came alive once every year.

“The Bhirri was the most crucial figure in this task. In our village, there were four Bhirri at the time, but only one would be chosen for the job. The selection was always based on height—the Bhirri had to be the shortest among them. The biggest advantage of a shorter height and lighter weight was that it reduced the risk of the rope breaking and allowed for better balance and control.”

In Harkot village, there was a man named Kesar Singh Harkotiya, a master of this craft. He stood around five feet tall, with a strong and agile physique—qualities that made him the perfect Bhirri. His ancestors had been Bhirris before him, and he had inherited their skill and bravery. My grandfather fondly called him Kihru Da.

“Kihru Da ek akhat-bikhat mesh chhi,“ (Elder brother Keshar was a fearless and daring man), my grandfather said with admiration.

“Not every Bhirri is the same,” Grandpa explained.

The Bhirri could vary depending on the unique characteristics of different regions. This task required more than just strength—it demanded balance and a deep understanding of the bees’ behavior. The Apis dorsata species of honeybees attacked in swarms. These bees were extremely aggressive, and multiple stings could even be fatal. Each cliff had about 8 to 10 Bhyaar (massive honeycombs) hanging from it, and a single Bhirri would scale three to four cliffs to extract this precious Mo (honey).

“The Bhirri braved all these dangers, climbing the cliffs for the prosperity of the village,” Grandpa said with pride.

The Bhirri and the Honey-hunt

To extract the honey, the people who had reached the top of the cliff would begin their work first. A wooden peg was driven into the ground like a stake, and one end of the readied thick grass rope was tied securely to it, while the other end was thrown down the cliff so that those sitting below could hold it steady and prevent it from swaying. The task of the people above was to pass supplies down to the Bhirri, while those below were responsible for keeping the rope steady and collecting the honey that the Bhirri sent down into containers.

The Bhirri would first fold his hands in reverence before the wooden peg to which the thick rope was tied. Perhaps because his safety depended so much on that single stake. Then, wearing the mesh-covered cap, he would slowly descend along the cliff. For additional safety, another rope was tied around his body.

When the Bhirri reached the hive on the cliff, the people sitting above would light a bundle of green grass, tie it to a rope, and lower it down to him. The smoke released from the burning grass helped calm the bees. When bees sense danger, they release a pheromone (a chemical signal) which alerts other bees and makes them aggressive. The smoke prevented this pheromone from spreading. Two long wooden sticks and a basket were also sent down to the Bhirri using separate ropes. The first stick was used to cut the honeycomb, while the second was used to support the honey-filled basket from below. Once the basket was full of honey, the people above would carefully pull it up and send it down to those waiting below. The people below would transfer the honey into other containers, while those above would send the empty basket back to the Bhirri. This process continued in a steady rhythm. Once the warm honey was extracted, some of the young men would try to eat it along with bits of the hive like pieces of biscuits. However, they would struggle to digest it and begin to feel intoxicated. Most people who tasted this fresh honey experienced the same dizzying effect.

At that time, the women of the village would secretly watch this spectacle, while searching for dry  firewood in the forest.

The honey extraction from all the cliffs would continue for more than a week. It is said that the queen bee would leave our mountain slopes with her colony toward the plains of the Bhabar. A bee colony consists of three types of members—the first, the queenbee, of which there is only one; the second, the drones, which are very few in number; and the third, the worker bees, which exist in millions. If the queenbee did not migrate to the warmth of the Bhabar plains, the colony would perish in the cold, as winter would set in within a few days. The worker bees that got separated from the queenbee would die within a few days.

There is an old saying in the village: ‘Bigad ro mani maun’, which means- It is essential for every family to have a leader.

Lost in thought, Grandfather said, “I wonder how many Bhirri like Kihru Da (Kesar Singh), must have fed our village mo (honey) in the month of Kartik.”

Mo and its place in our lives

The extracted mo or honey was brought to the Nanda Devi temple in the village, where the mo and mein (wax) were separated. Every family received an equal share of mo and mein, with a special portion set aside for the Bhirri. The villagers stored honey in a wooden vessel called the Harpi. Honey was used in religious rituals, eaten with roti or unleavened flat-bread, and gifted to friends and relatives. Some people sold it in neighbouring villages, earning money in return. The elders of the village would mix this honey with tobacco and smoke it in a chillum (smoking pipe), releasing a fragrance that spread far and wide.

“After the honey was extracted, Digar Da would prepare halwa for everyone by the banks of a Roli (stream)”, my grandfather recalled.

After school, some children would arrive there, and they would be served halwa (a sweet dish) on leaves. My father, who was 12 years old at the time, told me that he too would land up and would enjoy eating the halwa.

I believe that one of the big reasons  this tradition has now come to an end is increasing climate change. Unusual weather events, such as extreme heat, cold, or untimely rainfall, severely disrupts the life cycle of Apis dorsata. Climate change causes a shift in the timing of flowers blooming, which leads to bees facing a shortage of essential food sources like pollen and nectar. In this situation, the bees become weak, and their reproductive ability is negatively affected, leading to a decline in their population. The growing practice of monoculture farming, instead of traditional mixed cropping, is reducing the food sources of Apis dorsata. Additionally, in some areas, people destroy entire hives of Apis dorsata to extract honey, which severely impacts their reproductive capacity. This process not only reduces their population but also disrupts their natural life cycle. Today, in our village Harkot spotting even one or two beehives of Apis dorsata has become a rare sight.

In Harkot, beekeeping is now done in Dhor and walls. Dhor, which is a type of beehive made in a traditional way, houses a different species of bee called Apis cerana indica, commonly known as the Indian bee. In this method, honey is collected only twice a year – first in the spring and then in Kartik (fall). It is said that we can easily identify the honey by its colour. If the honey is light red, it will be from spring, and if it is light white, it will be from the fall season. In this method of beekeeping, when honey is harvested, the bees along with their young ones, larvae, pupae, and eggs, also die, which mixes with the honey and reduces its quality. As a result, the honey spoils quickly.

The bee hive has two parts. One part is the brood, which contains the bee’s eggs, larvae, and pupae. The other part is the honey-filled one.

In the traditional honey harvesting practice, the brood part was left untouched so that the bees’ ability to reproduce could remain intact. They would only cut the second part, which was the honey-filled one. This traditional method of honey harvesting helped maintain a balance and by respecting natural resources,  kept beekeeping healthy for generations.

The elders of the village still remember the adventurous feats of the Bhirri.

Grandfather would reiterate, “Being a Bhirri was not just a task, but the honour and responsibility of the village.”

This story is not only about honey but also about the collective spirit, hard work, and courage that kept the tradition alive, even in difficult circumstances. The legacy of the Bhirri and mo is still alive in the memories of our mountain lives.