The buzz on honeybees in Tennessee? They are thriving, in part because the state's Queen Bee, Jessica Dodds-Davis, has been growing her nonprofit, Honeybee Tennessee, since she launched it in 2017 and created and the popular license plate that goes along with it.
"Honeybee Tennessee is thriving and doing amazing," Dodds-Davis told The Tennessean in August.
"We partnered with so many schools and universities and now we even have a scholarship program for kids pursuing a degree in agriculture. And we’re actually preparing for a conference in 2027."
The "Save the Honey Bee" specialty license plate that funds her nonprofit continues to be popular among Tennessee drivers. It has stayed in the top 10 for the last five years.
And it's mostly due to the
efforts of Dodd-Davis, a Lebanon hairdresser with an affinity for bees, even though she's allergic to them.
She found that out 15 years ago when, as a rookie beekeeper, her face swelled into an angry mound. It was hot to the touch. "I looked like an MMA fighter who had a big dip in," she said, laughing.
But that didn't stop her from diving headfirst into her new beekeeping hobby. She loved reading and learning about honeybees. She started harvesting honey for her own boutique product line and eventually became an active member of a few beekeeper associations, routinely giving talks about the importance of honeybees for any school, civic or church groups who'd listen.
Being allergic to bees didn't stop her from jumping through a bunch of hoops to create the "Save the Honey Bee" plate. The bureaucracy was worse than a sting.
"I didn’t think anyone would have the tenacity to suffer though all the paperwork from the state," Honeybee Tennessee board member John Ratcliff said. "But when you point her in a direction and she’s got her eyes on something, she doesn’t let up. She’s a very polite pit bull."
The money generated helps Honeybee Tennessee make presentations statewide and buy beekeeping equipment and hives for dozens of schools and colleges. And Dodds-Davis has started receiving a salary of around $30,000 as charity director (the sole employee).
All things considered, she couldn't beeeee happier.
"It’s kind of like when you dream about winning the lottery and never do. But I did, and here we are. It’s kind of mind-blowing. And it’s also very humbling."
Reach Brad Schmitt at brad@tennessean.com.
This article originally appeared on Nashville Tennessean: The buzz on honeybees in Tennessee? Here's the woman who keeps life sweet
