Over the next few weeks, hundreds of millions of honeybees will make their way to New Jersey. They will come in the dead of night, stacked in hives on huge tractor-trailers that have traveled hundreds of miles to the farmlands of the Garden State.



Their job is crucial - to pollinate the state's crops: blueberries, cranberries, cucumbers, pumpkins and so much more.

Before summer ends, they will disappear as quietly as they rolled into the state. Few people will know they were ever here or how the beekeeping industry has been pushed to the brink of desperation.

Commercial Beekeeper Grant Stiles works in the middle of the night to remove 400 of his bee hives from a tractor-trailer truck that just arrived in New Jersey from North Carolina. 4/26/14. (Photo by Adya Beasley | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com)

Last April, I sat patiently in the parking lot of the Silver Coin Diner in Hammonton, "the blueberry capital of the world," waiting for one of those tractor-trailers full of bees.

It was close to midnight and pouring rain. The truck was making its way from North Carolina, carrying more than 400 hives. The traffic and weather had delayed our meeting.

The hives were headed home to commercial beekeeper Grant Stiles of Stiles Apiary in Woodbridge. Grant was parked beside me in his truck. Like clockwork, he updated me every half hour on the status of his bees and their estimated time of arrival.

Grant explained the routine once his bees were home.

"We're going to unstrap the truck and take the nets and protective belts off," Grant said. "And then were going to take the beehives that are on that truck, put them on to my truck, and we are going to distribute them around the field so that the bees are spread out around the farm's crops so they can pollinate them."

It all sounded simple.

A bee pollinates a blueberry blossom in Hammonton, NJ. In the U.S. honeybee pollination increases crop value by about 15 billion each year. 5/07/14. (Photo by Adya Beasley | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com)

By then, I knew one-third of the food we eat is made possible through honeybee pollination. I knew it was a small and vital league of commercial beekeepers like Grant who were responsible for making it happen. And I knew Grant was one of only 2,000 commercial beekeepers left in the United States.

But I had no idea what it took for Grant and the others to simply feed their families.

Today's beekeepers face a dizzying array of hurdles, including pesticide use, bacterial and viral diseases, pests and parasites. These stressors have forced honeybee deaths to skyrocket, putting our agricultural industry at risk and threatening our way of life.

That night in the diner parking lot launched a five-month journey to understand honeybee colony declines and their impact. I immersed myself in the relatively unknown world of commercial beekeeping, and the science that's trying to save the industry.

Commercial Beekeeper Grant Stiles gives his bees their first check up for the the pollination season with New Jersey State Apiarist Tim Schuler. Schuler works with Grant throughout the season to help him combat the effects pests and parasites, pesticides, bacterial and viral diseases and poor nutrition can have on Grant's hives. 5/07/14. (Photo by Adya Beasley | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com)

My reporting took me through the blueberry and cranberry fields of New Jersey, down to the USDA in Washington, D.C., and up to the U.S.-Canadian border in Upstate New York.

My camera, rolling the whole time, captured the interviews and moments that led to a 20-minute documentary we've called "On The Brink: The fight to save bees and our food supply"

The film takes viewers through last year's pollination season as Stiles battled the various threats attacking his hives.

The documentary may be viewed at the top of this page or by following this link:

nj.com/onthebrink

Before Grant's hives made their way up from North Carolina, he knew I was scared of bees. To make it worse, I'd never been stung before and we both knew it was just a matter of hours before that changed.

Still, I could tell Grant was excited. This was his chance to tell the world his story.

Soon, Grant was knocking on my window one last time.

"They're here," Grant said, pointing to a truck waiting at a stop light down the street. Its cargo was masked in black tarps, its lights twinkling in the rain.

"Follow me," he said, as he rushed back to his truck and started his engine.

Adya Beasley may be reached at abeasley@njadvancemedia.com. Follow her on Twitter @adyabeasley. Find NJ.com on Facebook.