That humming Stan DiFruscio of St. Catharines can sometimes hear is the sound of tens of thousands of bees living in his home's walls. (Sun Media)

ST. CATHARINES -- As scientists toil in their laboratories, trying to crack the global mystery of missing honey bees, Stan DiFruscio need only go home to figure it out.

"Every one is complaining about bees being short and dying. They're not dying. They're at my place. They're having a great time and partying," DiFruscio said.

Turns out the insects have a history of making a bee-line for DiFruscio's house and calling it home.

DiFruscio discovered his winged squatters in 2007. He noticed bees swarming a tree in his backyard and followed their flights to a wood panel above a window at the house's rear.

A little more investigating found that space wasn't good enough -- or big enough -- for the bees.

They -- and as many as 80,000 of their friends -- had decided to set up shop in the joists of DiFruscio's home.

Rather than grab a can of Raid, DiFruscio called a contractor who had local beekeeper Rudy Hein on staff. Hein pressed a telescope to a wall in the house-turned-hive and confirmed what had DiFruscio all abuzz.

There was "lots of humming" behind the plaster coming from three colonies of honey bees living in the walls of DiFruscio's bedroom, a bathroom and his daughter Hannah's room, Hein said.

The DiFruscios had to evacuate their home for a week as plaster was peeled back, revealing the busy bees.

Hein hunted for the queens, putting one in a hive box outside the house, coaxing the rest of the colony to follow. Hein also lured the bees by moving the many honey combs he found.

Problem is, most of the fragile wax crumbled in his grip, leaving pools of sticky honey behind.

"I've never seen anything like it. It was a huge mess," Hein said.

But seven days later, DiFruscio had back his house, in the process of being renovated anyway, and an $8,000 bill that insurance didn't cover.

Then, he learned his saga was to bee -- er, be -- continued.

Back with his stethoscope, Hein said DiFruscio's house is humming again.

The third colony from 2007 was in a tough to reach spot behind near the chimney, he said. After a summer hiatus last year, the bees returned, likely drawn back by the smell of food left behind after their last visit.

DiFruscio wishes they would buzz off. He figured he's looking at another $3,000 job to tear his house apart to help the bees along.

"I feel kind of blessed in a sadistic kind of way that the bees are trying to make their home in my place," DiFruscio said. "Rudy will take them away and make a good home for them."