NEWARK — Somewhere in the backyards of several Newark homes, 200,000 Carniolan bees are making raw honey you won't find in grocery stores.

There’s buckwheat and cranberry, butter bean and blueberry. If none of those tickle your taste buds, wildflower, fire weed and black locust just might. The eight hives belong to Aaron Daniels, an urban beekeeper in a city buzzing too often about life’s harsh realities.

"It’s not your regular job," Daniels said. "You have to learn their behavior and you have to have a lot of patience."

This is definitely a different career path from a 23-year-old Newark man enamored with the beauty and complexity of these little creatures.

"My bees are gentle," Daniels said. "All they care about is working."

Not the sort of thing you think of in a city.

But actually taking care of bees in urban settings is a little more common than you might think.

Robin Daughtery, executive director of the Greater Newark Conservancy, said urban beekeeping is a trendy thing now in cities. She knows a half dozen or so in Newark, but the practice has taken off more so in Manhattan and Brooklyn.

"We know we wouldn’t have the food we have today if not for them," Daughtery said.

Daniels has one hive at the conservancy, a lush habitat of foliage and flowers for his bees. They are a good indicator of our environment’s health, but they also gave Daniels focus when he was trying to figure out his life’s path.

He cooks fancy desserts and pastries and likes to garden, a passion inherited from his father. But nothing seemed to ring his bell until he saw a television program on bees and learned about healthy hives dying inexplicably. He read up on them, then took a beekeeping course at Essex County College.

"Everything was about the bees, even dinner conversation," said his mother, Linda Daniels.

A trip to a bee farm closed the deal for him. He said the master keeper owned his business and worked outdoors, two points that spelled independence for Daniels.

"This is it," he said. "This sounds like me."

Daniels joined bee associations of Essex County and New Jersey. He bought two hives to start his own farm. Two hives became four, then six. Now he has eight.

With permission from Newark property owners, the bees stay busy in their backyards and Daniels has agreed to share some honey with his hosts.

On his many stops, Daniels checks on his bees, feeds them sugar water if necessary so they can make beeswax, then honey. When the hives get crowded he must find the queen, a difficult job because there are layers of bees protecting her.

"While you’re looking, she could be off to the next frame," he said.

Then it’s off to farmers’ markets and setting up his business — Jersey Buzz — to sell honey customers can sample with a toothpick.

"You don’t taste processed sugar," said Maria Tambone on her lunch break at Washington Park last week. "It’s fresh, it’s a natural sweetness."

People kept coming to his table at the park. Some out of curiosity, some because they knew Daniels.

Ron Reyes hadn’t seen him since they were classmates at the Institute for Entrepreneurial Leadership. He was proud to know Daniels’ startup business was working out.

"Anything is possible," Reyes said. "Making honey in the city? That’s something people wouldn’t think happens in Newark."

This is not a fad for Daniels.

He’s into it — the color, its rich hue.

Seeing sheets of dripping honey from the hive is his reward.

That and getting people to realize bee honey and store honey are not the same.

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