The Flow Hive: What Happened After the $12 Million Crowdfunding Campaign

Photo: Flow Hive CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

In February 2015, Cedar Anderson uploaded a video to YouTube showing honey pouring from a tap on the side of a beehive. Within two days, it had two million views. Within eight minutes of launching their Indiegogo campaign, he and his father Stuart had hit their $70,000 goal. Within eight weeks, they'd raised $12.2 million from 25,000 backers in over 100 countries.

The beekeeping world proceeded to lose its collective mind.

Not with joy - though there was plenty of that. What followed was one of the most polarizing debates the beekeeping community had seen in decades. The invention got compared to everything from the Langstroth hive revolution of 1852 to a "beer keg for bees." Veteran beekeepers called it dangerous. Others called them Luddites. Forum threads turned into digital shouting matches. Beekeeping clubs split down the middle.

And somewhere in Byron Bay, Australia, two guys who'd been running their trucks on chip shop oil suddenly had to figure out how to ship tens of thousands of hives to 130 countries.

What the Flow Hive Actually Is

Here's the thing that got lost in all the noise: the Flow Hive isn't actually a new type of hive. It's a standard Langstroth hive with a modified honey super that contains special plastic frames. These frames have partially-formed honeycomb cells that can be split apart using a large key - think of a giant Allen wrench. When the cells split, honey drains through channels and out a tap at the back of the hive.

That's it. The brood box where the queen lives and lays eggs is identical to any other Langstroth setup. The bees still need feeding in lean times. Varroa mites still need treating. Inspections still need doing. The only thing that changes is how you harvest the surplus honey from the super.

The Andersons spent ten years developing the mechanism. Cedar, a third-generation beekeeper who started keeping bees at age six, was tired of crushing bees during extraction and wanted to solve what he called "the puzzle of getting honey out of a beehive without opening it." Early prototypes included attempts to remove wax cappings automatically before they settled on the split-cell design.

The Numbers Behind the Phenomenon

The campaign statistics still hold up as remarkable nearly a decade later:

• $70,000 goal reached in 477 seconds (just under 8 minutes)
• $2.18 million raised in the first 24 hours
• $12.2 million total raised over eight weeks
• 25,000 orders from over 100 countries
• Crashed the Indiegogo website twice

The campaign became the largest Indiegogo campaign ever launched outside the United States. It still ranks among crowdfunding's biggest success stories across any platform.

By 2020, five years after launch, Flow reported 75,000 hives shipped to over 130 countries. By early 2024, that number had grown to over 120,000 hives sold globally. The company maintains a Chicago warehouse for US distribution and continues manufacturing Flow Frames in Brisbane, Australia.

Why Veteran Beekeepers Were Furious

The backlash started almost immediately. On beekeeping forums, Facebook groups, and comment sections, experienced beekeepers voiced concerns that ranged from thoughtful critiques to outright hostility.

The criticism fell into several categories:

The "Christmas Puppy" concern. Many worried the viral video would attract people who thought beekeeping meant turning a tap once a month and collecting jars of honey. As Jim Cote of the New York City Beekeepers Association put it in 2015, it could be "like the Christmas puppy that people get and they lose interest in it."

The fear was that newbees (that's beekeeping slang for beginners) would neglect essential hive management, let colonies get sick, and spread disease to neighboring apiaries. At a time when colony losses were already running at crisis levels, adding thousands of poorly-managed hives seemed like pouring gasoline on a fire.

The "solution looking for a problem" argument. Extraction isn't the hard part of beekeeping, critics pointed out. For hobbyists with a few hives, the traditional process of removing frames, uncapping honeycomb, and spinning out honey in an extractor might happen once or twice a year. Some questioned whether spending $600-900 on a Flow Hive made sense compared to a $150-400 traditional Langstroth setup plus a shared or borrowed extractor.

The plastic question. Flow Frames are made from BPA and BPS-free food-grade plastic. For natural beekeeping advocates who prefer foundationless frames or pure beeswax foundation, inserting plastic into the hive represented a philosophical step backward. (Though critics pointed out that plastic foundation has been common in commercial operations for decades.)

The marketing complaints. The original promotional video showed honey flowing directly into jars with beekeepers in casual clothes standing relaxed near the hive. To experienced beekeepers, this looked irresponsible - glossing over the reality of inspections, stings, disease management, and the fundamental unpredictability of keeping 60,000 stinging insects.

One blog post called the Flow Hive "a solution in search of a problem" that reduced the beehive to "a beer keg you can tap."

The Company's Response

Cedar Anderson heard the criticism loud and clear. Within days of the campaign going viral, the company began updating its marketing to emphasize that Flow Hive changed only the honey harvesting process - everything else about beekeeping remained the same.

"I put up stuff saying that all we're going to change is the honey harvesting, and all the rest of the beekeeping stays the same," Cedar said in interviews. "You'll still need to look out for your bees as you always have had, and you'll still need to check for disease; you'll still get stung by your bees."

The company began producing educational content, launched an online beekeeping course called TheBeekeeper.org, and encouraged buyers to join local beekeeping clubs. The website now includes extensive resources on hive inspection, disease management, and responsible colony care.

What Actually Happened to All Those Hives

The dire predictions of mass bee die-offs from neglected Flow Hives haven't materialized in any documented way. What seems to have happened instead is more nuanced.

Some first-time beekeepers discovered that keeping bees required more than they'd anticipated and gave up - exactly as happens with traditional hives. Others got hooked and became dedicated hobbyists. Beekeeping instructor Hilary Kearney, who tested Flow Hives and teaches hundreds of new beekeepers annually, noted that "the new Flow Hive beekeepers are similar to all new beekeepers" - some attentive, some neglectful, most falling somewhere in between.

The equipment itself has proven functional. The split-cell mechanism works as advertised in most conditions, though beekeepers report some learning curve around timing harvests correctly (cells need to be fully capped) and managing drainage speed to prevent flooding. The company has released iterative improvements including the Flow Hive 2 (with adjustable legs and improved ventilation) and Flow Hive 2+ (adding ant guards and upgraded pest management features).

The Price Question

Flow Hives remain expensive. Current pricing runs from $569 for the entry-level Hybrid model to around $900 or more for the premium Flow Hive 2+ in western red cedar. Complete starter bundles with protective gear can run over $1,100.

For comparison, a basic Langstroth hive runs $150-400 depending on materials and configuration. A mid-range starter kit with tools and protective gear typically costs $300-600. The price gap is substantial, particularly for beginners uncertain whether they'll stick with the hobby.

The company argues the premium reflects not just the patented technology but also B Corp certification, FSC-certified timber sourcing, and solar-powered manufacturing at their Australian facility. Whether that value proposition makes sense depends on individual circumstances and priorities.

The Knockoff Problem

Success brought copycats. Chinese manufacturers began producing "Auto Flow" hives sold through Alibaba, eBay, and other marketplaces at a fraction of Flow's prices - often around $200-300 for a complete setup.

Flow holds patents in the US, EU, Australia, China, Japan, Korea, and numerous other jurisdictions. The company has pursued legal action against infringers and works with customs agencies to intercept counterfeit products. Their website warns that knockoffs may be seized at customs and destroyed.

Beekeepers who've compared genuine and counterfeit versions report varying quality in the copies - some functional, others poorly manufactured with fit and drainage problems. The risk calculation involves patent infringement concerns, quality uncertainty, and no warranty or customer support versus substantial cost savings.

Where Flow Hive Sits Today

Nearly a decade after the viral launch, Flow has evolved from scrappy crowdfunding darling to established beekeeping brand. The company earned B Corp certification in 2018, was named to B Corp's "Best in the World" environment list in 2019 and 2021, and reports donating over AU$1 million to pollinator conservation efforts.

They've expanded beyond hives into accessories: bee suits, smokers, tools, and a "Super Lifter" device that helps beekeepers open hives with minimal effort. The educational platform TheBeekeeper.org offers courses for beginners. An influencer program provides free hives to content creators who document their beekeeping journey.

The company has settled into a specific niche: premium equipment for backyard beekeepers who value convenience and are willing to pay for it. Commercial operations still use traditional extraction - the economics don't work at scale when you're managing hundreds or thousands of hives.

The Bigger Picture

The Flow Hive story reveals something about beekeeping's unusual position in American culture. Unlike most agricultural pursuits, it attracts passionate hobbyists with no farming background. It carries environmental valence - "save the bees" energy that can blur the line between honeybee management and native pollinator conservation. And it's governed by strong opinions about the "right" way to keep bees that vary wildly across practitioners.

Into that charged landscape dropped a viral video promising easier honey. No wonder it sparked a religious war.

The irony is that both sides were probably right about different things. Yes, some people bought Flow Hives expecting effortless honey and got a rude awakening about the reality of bee husbandry. Yes, the marketing initially undersold the complexity. But also: the product works, the company responded to legitimate criticism, and hundreds of thousands of new beekeepers have entered the hobby with Flow Hives functioning as one of several gateway drugs.

Whether the Flow Hive represents genuine innovation or expensive gadgetry depends on who you ask. What's not debatable is that a father-son team from Byron Bay bet a decade of their lives on an idea, launched it into the world, and built a lasting business that survived both its own hype cycle and the beekeeping establishment's skepticism.

That's rarer than it looks. Most crowdfunding darlings flame out within a few years. Flow is still here, still selling hives, still donating to conservation, still answering questions from beekeepers on their forum.

Not bad for two guys who used to run their trucks on chip shop oil.