I 



1917 



good condition, luU the ones with 6 

 inches of packing wintered ilnely. I 

 met Dr. Piiilli|)S at the Indianapolis 

 and Chicago conventions and lie ad- 

 vised plenty of packing, which with 

 this winter's test proves the most suc- 

 cessful. While the winter was rather 

 severe, the temperature dropping to 

 10 degrees, the zero weather lasting 

 about three weeks, yet the bees had 

 several nice flights during December, 

 January and February. 



Wabash, Ind. 



(Plenty of packing is evidently de- 

 sirable, but you should not have lost 

 as many as three out of four with 2- 

 inch packing, for many colonies 

 through the country wintered with- 

 out any packing at all. There must 

 have been some other trouble. — Ed- 

 itor.) 



My Neighbor's Garden 



By C. D. Stuart. 



ASIDE from the almond, my 

 neighbor produces few blos- 

 soms of more than passing in- 

 terest to our bees. He has not time 

 for gardening, other than the spas- 

 modic week-end cultivation of a kin- 

 dergarten. At other times, the four 

 adorable human flowers in various 



AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL 



stages of unfolding that flourish 

 there, must take chances along with 

 tile almond tree. For my neighbor 

 i-N up with the bee, hustling to make 

 the () o'clock Commuters' train, and 

 he continues to hustle until the same 

 train returns him to his family at 7 

 in the evening. 



■■"lowers that can walk, talk and ask 

 questions were new botanical speci- 

 mens, and soon outrivaled all other 

 interests. Specific analysis began 

 t)ne Sunday morning. They had as- 

 sembled beneath the almond tree. It 

 was a soft, spring-like day in Febru- 

 ary, the tree was in full bloom, and 

 our bees had also assembled there, 

 in the branches overhead. 



Prudence demanded that children 

 and bees be separated at once. But 

 how? We could hardly expect, nor 

 did we desire, the return of the bees 

 without the rejuvenating nectar con- 

 tained in the early fruit bloom. But 

 the transplanting of a kindergarten 

 that apparently had taken root in 

 that particular spot, might prove an 

 awkvv'ard undertaking. Also my 

 neighbor owned the few straggling 

 trees proudly referred to as "my or- 

 chard," which was another point in 

 favor of the kindergarten. It would 

 be equally awkward, as well as futile, 

 to transplant our hives that stood 

 facing the orchard and separated 

 from it only by a low cement wall 



THE ATTRACTIVE ALMOND BLOSSOM. 



343 



and an incipient hollyhock hedge. 

 The situation, therefore, was one 

 that reciuired diplomatic handling. 



"Whose little kiddies are you?" I 

 asked, by way of introduction. 



Eight round eyes were instantly 

 focussed upon me, while I made a 

 rapid mental classification of the 

 genus flora. There were Black-Eyed 

 Susan, the eldest; N'arcissus; Pansy, 

 and Johnny-Jump-Up, the baby. But 

 they had no intention of satisfying 

 idle curiosity. Possibly they had 

 never considered their origin. They 

 took themselves for granted as un- 

 consciously as their horticultural 

 prototypes. Instead, they answered 

 my question in true Yankee fashion 

 by asking another. 



P.lack-Eyed Susan pointed to the 

 tree. "What's they?" 

 "Honeybees," I replied, obediently. 

 "O-o-oh !" responded the quartet, 

 in unison, and gazed up into the 

 blossom-laden branches and listened 

 to the busy humming with renewed 

 interest — all except Johnny-Jump- 

 Up, who, astride his hobby-horse, 

 was galloping toward the house. 



"Where's the honey?" demanded 

 matter-of-fact Narcissus. 



I broke a branch from the tree and 

 showed them a bee at work collect- 

 ing pollen and loading it onto his 

 legs, and explained to them that be- 

 cause bees never can remember to 

 wipe their feet carefully, when they 

 visit other flowers, some of the pol- 

 len is sure to come ofif, and that was 

 what made fruit grow on the trees. 

 They watched until the bee flew 

 away, then, breathless with excite- 

 ment, asked, "Where's he going?" 



"To carry the pollen back to the 

 hive," I told them; "the nurse bees 

 make it into bread for the babies." 



"O-o-oh!" repeated the trio, and 

 made a bee-line for our hives. 



The unexpected advance was tem- 

 porarily checked by the retaining 

 wall. There I took a determined stand 

 and explained further how each hive 

 is guarded by sentinels and scouts, and 

 vividly described the anatomy of the 

 stinger with which each is provided 

 and its power of inflicting pain. Sud- 

 denly a shriek pierced the air. 

 "There!" I concluded; "someone is 

 getting stung now!" 



Black-Eyed Susan settled herself 

 comfortably on the cement wall. "It's 

 only Daddy spanking Johnny," she 

 announced, casually. "I want some 

 honey." 



I was in despair. Fortunately at 

 that moment their grandmother 

 called them to dinner; but they de- 

 liberately ranged themselves in a row 

 on the wall and eyed me expectantly; 

 while the bees, flying low under their 

 heavy loads, like bullets whizzed past 

 them into the hives. 



".Su-u-san !" An authoritative mas- 

 culine voice now called. 



The three culprits crouched lower 

 and were silent. 



"Su-u-san, P-an-sey, Nar-cis-sus I" 

 The voice was drawing nearer. 



"Oh. Daddy." called out Black- 

 Eyed Susan, jumping up as he ap- 

 proached, "come and see the bees 

 take pollen to the babies!" 



"They make it into bread," chimed 

 in Pansy. 



