THE FAERY YEAR 



sing with high spirit out of the courting and mating 

 season must be moved by other feelings. Perhaps 

 the robin takes an aesthetic joy in producing a perfect 

 September song. The pleasure some birds feel in 

 singing is to me certain. 



Driving out the Drones 



The honeyed hours of the drone are over. 

 Whilst taking some sections of sealed honey for a 

 friend last week, and overhauling the stock, I saw 

 the driving forth of these large, alarmed males from 

 one hive. Most authorities say the drones are often 

 stung to death before or after they are driven 

 savagely from the paradise where they have lolled 

 away the summer ; and I suppose this is so. But 

 I did not see any drones stung to death after the 

 expulsion, nor any dead drones rolled from the 

 alighting board. The manner of the expulsion was 

 absolutely similar in the case of each drone. He 

 came out of the hive wrapt in close embrace with a 

 single worker. He buzzed and rolled off the alight- 

 ing board, crawled over the yard or so of bare 

 ground of the bee-hive shed, lugging his tormentor 

 with him. At the grass outside the shed the two 

 separated, and with a loud final buzz flew off in 

 different directions. 



The worker bee always held on to the drone by 

 his body, or his wing at the point where it joins the 

 body. From time to time the worker's body would 

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