By JOHN LELAND

CAPE CORAL, Florida — In a county with one of the nation’s highest foreclosure rates, empty houses have attracted a new type of nonpaying tenant: bees.
Tens of thousands of honeybees, building nests in garages, rafters, even furniture left behind.
When a swarm came in April to the foreclosed ranch house at 3738 Santa Barbara Place in Cape Coral, town officials called B. Keith Councell, a fourth-generation beekeeper and licensed bee remover.
On a recent evening, Mr. Councell stood at the light blue house’s open garage door as hundreds of honeybees buzzed over his head and past his ears, disappearing into a hole behind the water meter. The house has been without a human occupant since December.
Then he did what he does at most foreclosed homes: nothing.
“If it’s in the yard I just take care of it, said Mr. Councell. “But if it’s in the structure, usually I can’t get permission to go in. And it’s a problem, because somebody’s going to get stung. It creates a risk for everybody around.
Foreclosed houses around the country have been colonized by squatters, collegiate revelers, methamphetamine cooks, stray dogs, rats and other uninvited guests. Mr. Councell, 35, only has eyes for bees.
Last year, Mr. Councell said, he answered calls about bees in more than 100 vacant houses, and the volume was higher this year.
Lee County, on Florida’s southwest coast, was until recently a boom area. But like other fast-growth regions, the county is now a focal point in the foreclosure meltdown. But for area bees, the real estate boom is just beginning.
“Bees anywhere in the world will make homes in any building that is not occupied,’’ said Roy Beckford, the University of Florida agricultural and natural resources agent in Lee County, who said he had received “quite a few calls’’ about bees in empty properties.
Most hives have 15,000 to 60,000 bees, said Professor Jamie Ellis, a bee specialist at the University of Florida.
An unlikely player in the Florida real estate market, Mr. Councell has not had a permanent home since 2004, when Hurricane Charley destroyed his trailer. Since then he has lived in a room at the St. Nicholas Eastern Orthodox Monastery, to which he donates all the honey and beeswax from his 300 or so bee colonies.
On a typical job, Mr. Councell, who works without netting or gloves, scoops the bees by hand into a wooden box, which he brings to the monastery for keeping. Stings are part of the job. The bees travel by day within an eight-kilometer radius, pollinating plants, then fly back to the box at night. He starts his work days shortly after 7 a.m. and continues to around midnight, sometimes clearing five or six colonies in a day.
Mr. Councell often does not charge to remove bees from financially distressed homes, and he said 70 or 80 people owed him money.
“Basically I’m floating, continuously, he said. “A lot of times my account will go into the red. I do it because I have the love for the bees. They’re a part of my closeknit family. If I take care of them they’re going to take care of me eventually. Regardless of what I do, they’re always there for me.