October, 1919 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



653 



gm FROM THE FIELD OF EXPERIENCE 



thing had to be done about that. The edi- 

 tor of one of the bee papers came out witli 

 a plan that listened good. I was told to 

 turn my frames up on end, pack them in a 

 thin box with a little sawdust around them 

 and save myself all the trouble of making 

 a large case. Here indeed was an authori- 

 tative statement and this was just what 

 I was looking for. Me to the mill for a box! 

 I didn't find it very easy to make; but final- 

 ly I got it fixed up and after a few objec- 

 tions on the part of the bees I got them 

 packed. I had to buy a new hive body to 

 pack them in; but I suppose I can use that 

 some other way some day, tho I've been try- 

 ing to figure out how you can keep your 

 empty combs during the winter in hive 

 bodies, use the same hive bodies for mak- 

 ing outside cases for the little box, and not 

 buy new ones. That is one of the mysteries 

 of beekeeping that I have not yet been 

 able to master. I am, as I said before, green 

 at the bee business. 



Then when March came I took a look at 

 this little case. It was full of brood, so 

 there was nothing to do but unpack it and 

 give the bees more room. I did. Just about 

 as I was getting. the frames right side up in 

 a regular hive, Friend Wife appeared to re- 

 mark that the government bulletin says that 

 the bees should be left in their cases until 

 time to put on supers, unless the swarming 

 season comes on. 



"Well," I said, "How in Tom Walker 

 can I do that? These bees are crying for 

 room right now. ' ' 



"Maybe the swarming season is on," 

 quoth Wife. 



This was a stumjier for me, so I left the 

 bees where they were and went to the tele- 

 phone and called up Jones. Jones is an old 

 hand at the business, and really he is to 

 blame for my getting into the game, so he 

 has to bear a lot of questioning. Being fully 

 and absolutely assured that it was not time 

 for swarming, I went back to the job. For- 

 tunately it was a warm day, and nothing 

 happened in the way of chilling the brood. 



But the next day it was cloudy, and the 

 next night it cleared and got cold. Every 

 time I shivered I did an extra shiver for 

 the bees out there in a summer coat. It 

 stayed cold for over a week, and, even if I 

 am new in the game, I had sense enough to 

 let those bees alone. When it did warm up 

 I was at those bees as soon as I could get 

 home from the oflSce to see how they had 

 fared during the late unpleasantness. 



The bees were still there. Just how many 

 may have died I do not know, for I didn 't 

 know them well enough yet to call them all 

 by their first names. But there were a lot 

 of dead ones on the floor. That was not the 

 worst of it; there were a lot of the brood 

 chilled. The long story about that hive may 



be shortened down by saying that it did not 

 recover from that chilling until after the 

 honey flow was well over. I guess it cost 

 me over half the crop, but it was cheap tui- 

 tion. I know better now. 



So my experience of the first winter was 

 not what you might call a success. Three 

 out of five gone; the other two weak. I 

 bought some more last week and now have 

 ten, so I am in the ring for keeps. 



I talked this winter business over with 

 the fellows at the last informal meeting of 

 the Ancient Order of Bee Cranks and (would 

 you believe it?) not one agreed with any 

 one else as to the best way to winter bees. 

 Now I 'm a beekeeper and quite willing 

 when in Kome to burn Roman candles. If it 

 is the proper caper to decide these things 

 by arguments, all right. If one should ac- 

 cept the advice of the big bugs without ques- 

 tion, all right. If we are to decide every 

 fellow for himself, all right. That seems to 

 be the game. 



But I 've been worried a lot about this. 

 As I said, I'll do the correct thing in the 

 bee business even if I have to buy a new lot 

 of colonies every spring, but my old habit 

 of asking for a reason exerts itself in spite 

 of my best efforts. So I've decided simply 

 to tell you what I have done, to renew my 

 pledge of loyalty to the fraternity, and as a 

 last effort to say something, after which I'll 

 slide into oblivion. 



Why do all these fellows tell me how to 

 winter my bees, when most of them are 

 not able to give a single valid reason for 

 the thing they advocate? Why do they say 

 that no packing is needed on the bottom, 

 when they have no data to back up any such 

 statement? Why do they tell me that there 

 is danger of too much packing, when not one 

 of them can tell me what happens to the 

 bees when they get too much? Why was 

 that method of putting bees on their heads 

 put in the bee joirrnal when it was almost 

 certain that there would be a cold spell 

 after the packing had to come off? Was 

 that a part of the joke column that had been 

 misplaced by the printer's devil? They 

 all tell us that the bees are wild animals 

 that live just as they do in hollow trees, 

 that they are not domesticated. Then why 

 in Tom Walker, to whom I have before re- 

 ferred, don 't they find out what these bees 

 like best, and why don 't they try to give 

 them the conditions that will allow them to 

 do their very best? I've asked these things, 

 and now I 'm ready to play the game ac- 

 cording to the rules. Never again will I 

 object. But it goes hard. 



I almost forgot another question, that I 

 intended to include before I took the oath. 

 I put it to Friend Wife the other night. 

 Why do the government fellows say that 

 bees ought not be unpacked until swarming 



