1887 



GLEANmGS IK BEE CULTURE. 



348 



WINTERING BEES UP TOWARD THE 

 NORTH POLE. 



Without any Stores Whatever. 



W- p. CI-AItKK'S HIBERNATION THUOKV ESTABI.ISH- 

 KI) K[NAI.,IjY on a firm BASltS. 



TTp S I happened to be down from the north to see 

 qflk a friend here in Ontario, I was reading- your 

 j^» bee-paper. i;noticed something in it about 

 ■^^ bees beinji frozen in the snow over night, 

 and coming to life again, and your remarks 

 as to how long and how low a temperature they 

 would bear, and come back to life. I have found to 

 my astonishment, that no one seems to understand 

 how to winter bees without food and without much 

 trouble, and with a certainty of having them all in 

 the spring, and especially to have strong colonies 

 in the spring, both in Canada and your country. I 

 expected to learn somethiug new and improved 

 about keeping bees when I came down from the 

 north; but, as 1 said, I was astonished to find I 

 could learn nothing on wintering bees. 



Where 1 came from is north of Nipising, about 1.50 

 miles from the arctic salt water; namely, James 

 Bay, a wing of Hudson's Bay, in a great plain 

 where bloom abounds tor about two months. The 

 honey-flow is great while it lasts. We get about 

 200 lbs. per colony; but if we wintered them the 

 way you and others do, we could not get more than 

 2.5 lbs. of honey from each colony, because the bees 

 would consume all, or nearly all, in the winter and 

 non-productive months. 



Now, for the good of your people as well as for 

 Canadians, I will tell you how I manage mine; but 

 I must be honest, and tell you It was not my own 

 finding out. I learned it from an Indian who had 

 never seen a white man until 1 straggled into his 

 country. We became friends, and he told me his 

 secret. I saw there was money in it, and went in 

 with him. We have well nigh made a fortune. We 

 got our honey down a tributary of the Ottawa, 

 and paddled it down, and then returned in time to 

 put our bees away, then hunted and trapped all 

 winter. We generally had 35 Indians with canoes, 

 with some small rafts attached, to take down our 

 honey every fall, after the fourth year; but we 

 never had much left when we got to Ottawa. We 

 traded it to Indians for furs, on our way down, of t- 

 en doubling and trebling the price. As each canoe 

 was unloaded we let it return, and so on. That was 

 ten years ago. 



You and your readers will perhaps wonder how I 

 got there, how 1 came to stay there, and how I 

 could talk to a wild Indian, and so on. Well, my 

 story is easily told. 1 was crossed in love. I went 

 north into the forest, with a gun and knife and dog. 

 I fell among Indians, learned to talk their language, 

 and, as I said, I straggled into this man's territory. 

 He is a chief. I finally married his daughter, and 

 we are a happy family all round, mother-in-law and 

 all. We have five children, healthy and plump, and 

 as nimble as otters. Well, to business. 



The old man found the secret by accident. He 

 fell a bee-tree late in October, and took the honey. 

 The bees clustered under a hollow piece of wood, 

 and there came a fall of snow that night. He went 

 to see if he could find more honey next day. He 

 looked at the bees, found they were numb, but 

 would come to life when he warmed some in his 

 band. He conceived the idea that, if he would cov- 



er them up in snow, they might keep that way till 

 spring. Accordingly he covered them with bark, 

 then with snow, so no frost could reach them. As 

 soon as spring opened he went to them with a log 

 hive he had prepared, dug them out, put them in, 

 and carried them home. When they got warm, all 

 but a very few began to crawl and finally to buzz. 

 He fed them maple syrup that he had just made. 

 They did well. We made our hives of elm bark, by 

 peeling it in June. We had to employ help. We 

 pressed it around a square block of wood, let it dry, 

 then sewed one seam. We made all one size, so we 

 could set one on top of another, each one a foot 

 square inside, 14 inches deep. We use no founda- 

 tion. We manage to get the top hive full of clear 

 white comb. We take all of the best out of the bot- 

 tom; but how do the bees live over winter, with no 

 honey after the middle of October? Well, they 

 don't live— at least, they eat no stores. Here is the 

 way we do it: 



The first cold nights we uncover the hives so they 

 will get perfecly cold through, then keep them in a 

 cool place in the shade, with covers on loose, so as 

 to keep them dry. As soon as there comes a good 

 fall of snow, which always comes there before hard 

 frost, we have a cave into which we pack a lot of 

 snow, then lay dry bark on it, then the hives, then 

 cover with dry bark, then pack about two feet of 

 snow over them, shut all up, and cover all over 

 nicely with snow. We never look at them till about 

 the first of May; but if there comes a thaw we are 

 careful not to let any wet get down. We do this by 

 packing more snow on, and cover with green hem- 

 lock brush, so as to keep the sun oft' the snow. 

 When it begins to thaw rapidly, and spring is upon 

 us, we dig the bees out, set them in the sun with cov- 

 ers off; and if it is a fine warm day we have them 

 humming in a few hours. We cover them at night, 

 uncover them next day, and cover at night again for 

 the last time. Our bees are all in full blast in three 

 days, carrying in pollen. The hives are in full 

 strength— no sickly hives, no spring dwindling. By 

 the first of June we have on the top hives. The 

 only danger in putting up bees for winter our way 

 is, if there are any hives with the least warmth left 

 in them the bees will come to life, then smother, or 

 starve— at any rate, die they must, and be worth- 

 less. We never lost more than two hives in that 

 way in eight years. 1 now think you can all under- 

 stand the cold plan of wintering bees. I suppose it 

 would be more difficult where the winter is not cold 

 enough. If you or any other bee-man would like to 

 communicate with me or my father-in-law and part- 

 ner. Eagle Muskeegoon, about our bee-business and 

 management, he can do so, aud can reach us by 

 writing to my friend George Watson, Alliston, On- 

 tario, who has a way of communicating with us. 

 He keeps bees, and intends to try our plan next 

 winter. He has lost most of his bees this winter al- 

 ready, and there is another month before they can 

 fly here yet. There is good sleighing here now, and 

 nearly as cold as January- 



This was written for me at my request, and for 

 the good of my fellow-men, or as many as it may 

 concern. My letter is long, but 1 should like to tell 

 you something about the effect of honey by its use 

 with Indians. The three youngest of my father-in- 

 law's children, who were born at and after the time 

 he began to have plenty of honey, are of much bet- 

 ter complexion than the others. My children are 

 soft, clean, and bright-skinned— a kind of " English 



