878 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



the wire is so thoroughly imbedded that you 

 would hardly know on which side it was. 

 But this plan would hardly allow the wires 

 to be curved. 



I WONDER, Mr. Editor, if it will be too 

 egotistical for me to take space here to tell 

 what a good time I'm having in Washing- 

 ton, D. C. I left cousin Dave Redpath and 

 his daughter Maggie to occupy the home, so 

 that all care could be left behind ; brought 

 all my family, consisting of my wife and 

 her sister, and for the first time in m.any a 

 year I am giving myself up to the luxury 

 of a vacation. With a thoroughly informed 

 guide in the shape of an only son, we're 

 doing the town and having the time of our 

 lives. I supposed there was much to be seen 

 and enjoyed in Washington, but I never 

 dreamed how much ; and they say " the half 

 has not been told." I was heavily in debt 

 before; but this adds greatly to the debt of 

 gratitude I owe to the loving heavenly Fa- 

 ther for his many, many loving kindnesses 

 unto me. 



Replying to ye editor, p. 822, bees paint 

 the inside of a hive more or less with pro- 

 polis ; but is that exactly the same as having 

 both inside and outside painted? At any 

 rate, I've known the only painted hive in a 

 cellar to be the only one having wet and 

 moldy combs. [Paint inside and out might 

 make a board more impervious to moisture 

 than one coated inside only with bee-glue. 

 Is it not possible that the wet moldy combs 

 in that one painted hive to which you refer 

 were due to some other conditions'? We 

 have for years used painted hives in winter- 

 ing in one of our cellars, and we seldom 

 have moldy combs in any of those hives. 

 But in another cellar, a little cooler, the 

 moisture and sweat are much more in evi- 

 dence. If a powerful colony were housed in 

 a painted hive, and a medium or weak 

 colony in an unpainted one, we would nat- 

 urally expect more moisture with the former 

 than with the latter, and paint would not 

 be the cause of it either. In other words, 

 is it not possible that the one painted hive 

 to which you refer had a stronger colony 

 or a contracted entrance? or was it located 

 in a part of the cellar that was cooler than 

 where the other bees were situated? — Ed.] 



Here\s what the bees did for us the sea- 

 son of 1913: A dozen or so of the pooi-er 

 colonies were allowed to work on extraet- 

 ing-combs. That left 72 for sections. The 

 middle of May another colony was made 

 from extra brood of the 72, making 73 that 

 stored in sections. Close credit was given 

 each colony for all sections it gave, whether 

 finished or not. So a credit of 100 sections 

 might mean 95 finished sections and enough 



unfinished to be the equivalent of five fin- 

 ished. Note, too, that the credits are in 

 sections, not pounds. The poorest colony 

 gave 68 sections ; the best gave 402 sections ; 

 the average for the 72 was 266.74. 



Now don't ask me if there isn't some mis- 

 take in those figures. I've looked them over 

 carefully, and they're all right. And then 

 to think that an upstart of an editor should 

 hint that I hadn't been giving " attention 

 largely to honey-producers"! [This is al- 

 most a record-breaking yield of honey — 

 nearly 20,000 lbs. of comb honey from 73 

 colonies. This is going some, especially 

 for a man past 82 years of age. Of course, 

 we know he had good help in his women- 

 folks; but they are not as strong and active 

 as they were 40 years ago. If any of our 

 readers have produced as large a crop of 

 comb honey from 75 or even 100 colonies we 

 wish they would hold up their hands. 



We don't know what Dr. Miller is talking 

 about, much less find the reference. Never 

 mind; he secured a big crop; but, as he 

 often modestly says, " I don't know." Yet 

 what he does not know about producing 

 comb honey is probably not worth much. — 

 Ed.] 



We are told that, when a bee stings, it 

 will circle about until it draws the sting 

 out of the flesh, and escape unharmed. I 

 think that's exceptional. Oftener it takes 

 an immediate forcible departure, leaving its 

 sting behind. But when it does perform the 

 circling act, the sting does not always come 

 out of the flesh. One day last summer a 

 bee stung my hand ; and as it began to circle 

 I watched it. First it circled in one direc- 

 tion for a time, then in the other. Then it 

 tried to fly away. Failing in that it fell to 

 circling again, and directly took flight, leav- 

 ing its sting in my hand. [In our public 

 demonstrations we have caused bees to sting 

 our arms and hands. This is done by pick- 

 ing a bee up by the wings and gently press- 

 ing it against the flesh of the arm until it 

 inserts its sting. We then let go of the 

 wings, and immediately it begins to tug 

 away in an effort to free itself. Generally 

 it will whirl in a circle. Sometimes it will 

 whirl one way, and then back up and Avhirl 

 the other way. But in dozens of cases 

 when we have tried this, we have never 

 known of an instance where it extracted its 

 sting. When it does free itself it loses its 

 sting and poison-bag, and sometimes a 

 small section of the abdomen. Unlike that 

 of the yellowjackets and hornets, the sting 

 of the bee has barbs. These latter cause 

 the sting to stick in the flesh. Thus a hon- 

 eybee can use its weapon but once; but a 

 yellowjacket or a hornet can keep on jab- 

 bing because its sting is not barbed. — Ed.] 



