382 Next to the Ground 



peach blossom has a drop of clear honey at 

 the heart almost as rich as any the bees them- 

 selves secrete. To secure so great a prize 

 the bees crawl laboriously up and down the 

 stalks, and over and around each swelling 

 bud, seeking to thrust a head within the 

 richly incurved petals, as soon as they begin 

 to unroll. Often the honey-gatherer succeeds, 

 and sucks the drop, herself hidden by the 

 pale pink petals. Peach bloom is singular in 

 that it does not fade, but deepens as it falls. 

 Fresh blossoms are little more than flesh-pink 

 and shed petals richly crimson. 



A swarm is a strict monarchy, though it is 

 questionable if the queen mother is not rigor- 

 ously held by constitutional limitations. It 

 appears that bee royalty is wholly a matter of 

 nurture. The workers prepare special cells, 

 a little larger than the rest for rearing young 

 queens, and after the egg is laid, fill the cells 

 with royal jelly, in place of ordinary bee- 

 bread. After she is done flying out, sporting 

 with the drones, the queen rarely ventures 

 out of hive-bounds. It happens sometimes, 

 though, that her subjects rise up and slay her, 

 or that in some other way she is destroyed. 

 Then if there are young queens hatching, 

 the hive stands still, waiting for them to 

 come out and settle the succession among 

 themselves. But if the queen should be 



