A Lively Bee Hunt 207 



"Pooh, Harry, that's only a drone," 

 said the old man contemptuously. " He 

 wouldn't be any better than a fly. He would 

 just eat up our honey and then fly away with- 

 out as much as saying ' thank you/ He 

 wouldn't go back to the tree, but would go 

 dawdling about anywhere he happened to 

 like. Drones aren't any use in a bee hunt. 

 You can tell them by the deep booming sound 

 of their wings. They fly much more heavily 

 than the workers. They are also slightly 

 larger. Ah, here comes a worker." 



Old Ben drew the slide of his small box 

 and stood perfectly still, while the honey-bee 

 hummed about our heads. " She's smelled 

 it; they have great noses," he explained. " It 

 is by scent that the guards at the door of 

 each hive tell whether a bee belongs to their 

 hive or not and decide whether they will let 

 her in. Imagine you and me having to tell 

 all our relatives by the sense of smell ! " 



After hunting about for a few seconds, the 

 bee entered our box and Ben shut the slide 

 and left her to take her fill. 



