632 IOWA DEPARTMENT OP AGRICULTURE 



Going back to my original thought, how would any of us ever attain 

 to the eagle heights of beedom occupied by Mr. Root, Dr. Miller, Inspector 

 Pellett, Dr. Bonney and a few others I might mention, if none of us in- 

 itiates undertook making fun-sticks of ourselves for the amusement of 

 the graduates in bee culture. 



Now every man has, or at least should have, a hobby. That is what the 

 general run of humanity recommends for the overworked and tired out 

 business man. A hobby is supposed to be a sort of play or amusement, on 

 the side, that takes up, or rather lets loose a cramped and tired nature 

 into a relaxation, or what otherwise might be called recreation. Maybe 

 you old beekeepers know Avhat that means, or maybe you don't. I some- 

 times think a real beekeeper never gets tired, or rather, he should not 

 ever get tired. 



Some men I know of think a hobby is chasing a golf ball for hours 

 over a forty-acre field. Others think it is to travel on foot twenty miles 

 or more, over the roughest localities, carrying a heavy gun and ammuni- 

 tion just to get a chance to see a flock of ducks, too far away to even hear 

 a gun. 



On the other hand, did you ever stop to think that there are in this 

 world a very few one-talent men? I doubt if there is a single one-talent 

 man in this room today. Why you would not be real beekeepers if you 

 were, for how many of you know nothing else but the bee work? Well, 

 I just picked out the bunch of fellows that know a thing or two on the 

 side, and joined them — I mean the fellows who like to fuss with the 

 "huzzies" and have made bees the chief of my hobbies. 



My physician having ordered me to stay out of the printing office, 

 adding that I must rest from the nervous strain I was carrying, I imme- 

 diately landed on my neglected lawn with a lawn mower, a rake and a 

 spade. It was fun — never had really enjoyed it before, because I did 

 not know I possessed another talent besides the acquired printing office 

 habit. Then my wife also landed on me for flower beds and various other 

 yard improvements. It just seemed as though she would like to sidetrack 

 my hobby for hers, she was so industrious about it, but I was too far 

 gone to lose out on the bees. 



While all these new found pleasures were becoming settled upon me, a 

 new neighbor, in the meantime, had moved in next to me and he had a 

 couple of colonies of bees. I was just a little bit leary of the pesky things, 

 for the sight of a bee had always affected me just the same as it does 

 the majority of mankind — I was never unprepared to make my getaway. 



It wasn't long before my neighbor was making an awful smudge and 

 monkeying with those bees. By tip-toeing around and peeking over, I 

 saw it all. Standing on somewhat higher ground, I was paralyzed with 

 astonishment as I beheld him actually putting his hands down in that 

 hive, right among those bees. The cold chills ran relay races up and 

 down the full length of my nervous body, as I watched him lift out the 

 frames covered with the yellow-banded fellows and dozens of them 

 unning over his hands. "Hello, George! What are you doing?" I asked, 

 *Q as calm and possessed a manner as I could muster up. Without lifting 

 his eyes he said: "I'm trying to see what these little fellows are doing." 



