In a lush field of tall grass and poison ivy, Sam Droege, a dedicated wildlife biologist, embarks on his daily commute to the government lab he has managed for over 23 years. However, the future of this vital institution hangs in the balance as the Trump administration’s 2026 budget proposal threatens to defund the lab, jeopardising crucial research on native bees and their role in maintaining biodiversity. As Droege reflects on his decades of work, he faces an uncertain future, one that could have dire consequences for the environment and food production.

Droege, a slender 66-year-old with long white hair styled in neat French braids, is one of the world’s leading experts on native bees. These pollinators, which thrive in the wild, differ significantly from honeybees, which are farmed for profit. While both bee types face similar threats, including pesticides and habitat loss, Droege’s work focuses on understanding the behaviour and ecology of native bees, which are essential for pollinating an estimated 80 percent of flowering plants worldwide.

The lab, which houses one of the largest bee collections in the country, has amassed over one million specimens, many of which are stored within its modest walls. However, with active fieldwork on hold and no new research projects underway, the potential closure of the lab comes at a critical juncture for bees, which have already experienced significant population declines in recent years.

Experts warn that the loss of the bee lab would be devastating for conservation efforts. Hollis Woodard, an associate professor at the University of California at Riverside, describes the lab as “essentially irreplaceable.” She relies on its data for her research nearly every day and emphasises that losing this facility would severely hinder efforts to track and conserve native bee populations.

The lab’s budget is modest, consisting primarily of Droege’s salary and that of his sole employee, a lab manager hired four years ago. The funding they receive from the government ranges from a mere $3,000 to $12,000 annually. This financial instability is compounded by the Trump administration’s proposal to eliminate grants and research programs that “duplicate other Federal research programs,” which could lead to the lab’s closure as soon as October 1.

Droege expresses his frustration, stating, “I’m sad that people have let it happen.” Despite being warned not to speak publicly about the proposed closure, he feels compelled to raise awareness about the implications of losing a publicly funded lab on bee research and science. “Nothing radical,” he insists, but the stakes are undeniably high.

As he prepares for the worst, Droege has opened up a garden once filled with native plants to attract specific bee species to the public. “If we have to leave, who will take care of this?” he asks, highlighting the urgency of the situation.

The bee lab is not easy to find. Located just 20 miles from Washington, it has no official address and can only be accessed by entering precise longitude and latitude coordinates into a GPS. Once through the hidden metal gate and down a dirt road, visitors encounter two unassuming buildings. The first, an old garage, was once the main lab but is now cluttered with dusty books, mosaic-decorated file cabinets, and a long wooden table that was once a bowling alley.

Droege’s work is not only about identifying bee species but also about understanding their ecological roles. He notes that native bees are crucial for maintaining the unique biodiversity of forests, prairies, grasslands, deserts, and wetlands. The more researchers track these bees, the better they can comprehend the role different species play in pollinating crops such as pumpkins, apples, tomatoes, and blueberries.

The urgency of this research is underscored by alarming statistics. Honeybee keepers reported losing over 60 percent of their colonies in the past year, a trend linked to viruses carried by Varroa mites, common parasites of honeybees. The decline of honeybees serves as a warning for all pollinators, including native bees, which are disappearing at an alarming rate due to habitat loss and climate change.

Droege’s dedication to his work is evident as he examines bee specimens under a microscope, revealing the intricate details that distinguish each species. “Identifying a bee is no small feat,” he explains, noting that most species are smaller than a grain of rice. Yet, the wonders of their diversity are crucial for understanding the health of ecosystems.

As the potential closure of the bee lab looms, Droege’s commitment to his research and the future of native bees remains unwavering. “The bee world we inhabit, while critical to a functioning planet, is completely opaque to the citizenry,” he says, urging people to recognise the vital role that bees play in our environment.

In this pivotal moment for the bee lab and the future of native bee research, the call to action is clear: preserving this institution is essential for safeguarding the health of our ecosystems and ensuring the sustainability of our food systems. The fate of the bee lab is not just about one man’s career; it is about the future of biodiversity and the delicate balance of our planet’s ecosystems.

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