794 



GLEANINGS IN BEK CULTURE 



Beekeeping in California 



p. C. Chadwick, Redlands, Cal. 



Continued from Dec. 1. 



After spending a short time at this api- 

 ary we rode back to Ferris, and then to the 

 northeast to the apiary of E. Gunther. 

 Leaving there we continued until we reach- 

 ed the home of Mr. W. R. Neudorf. Here 

 I found a typical little home lying in a 

 cove made by the abrupt ending of a short 

 canyon — just a few acres, but well protect- 

 ed on all sides by high hills. Oranges, pears, 

 figs, and other fruits Avere thriving, as well 

 as an apiary of about 200 colonies. Mr. 

 Neudorf had on hand about 20 eases of 

 honey of this season's crop. Here I saw 

 the most complete honey-house I have seen 

 in California. It was a two-story affair 

 with ample room for all purposes. Mr. 

 Neudorf has his bees located on a sloping 

 bench of land above his house, the honey- 

 hou^e being built in the side of the hill — 

 the upper story on a level with the apiary, 

 the lower on a level with other buildings. 

 The honey is wheeled into the upper story, 

 and then extracted, passing through a 

 gravity strainer to an immense tank be- 

 low. The lower story is concrete through- 

 out, with a concrete base for the honey- 

 tank to rest on at a height just sufficient to 

 admit a 60-lb. can under the faucet. There 

 is also a narrow opening left in the base 

 large enough so that a small oil-stove may 

 be placed under the tank to warm the hon- 

 ey when necessary to make it run freely. 

 Honey can be drawn from the tank at any 

 time as it is entirely enclosed, and is bee 

 and fly proof. I planned to get a picture 

 of this place for Gleanings ; but owing to 

 extremely cloudy weather I could not. 



Here I left Harry for the day. He re- 

 turned to his home ten miles to the west 

 while I went on through Coyote Pass, and 

 continued for a shorter distance down into 

 the Hemet Valley. I reached the home of 

 my wife's mother about 6 p. m., somewhat 

 tired, after covering 80 miles for the day, 

 but well satisfied with my machine. 



The next morning I was up early, and 

 ready for another day's travel. Clouds 

 were hanging far below the summit of Mt. 

 San Jacinto ; but " It never rains in Cali- 

 fornia in the summer time." Harry and I 

 were to meet at the Elsinore road at 9 A. m., 

 and visit a number of apiaries on the way 

 down to Elsinore. We met as planned, and 

 were soon at the home of Thos. Chaffin; 

 but no one was at home, so we continued 

 our journey for a few miles. Leaving our 

 machines near the road we walked a mile to 

 the apiary of Mrs. H. R. Youngling, who 



is Harry's aunt. Clouds had continued to 

 grow more dense since morning, and it was 

 now beginning to mist and show signs of 

 rain ; but " It never rains in the summer in 

 California." By the time we reached our 

 machines it was sprinkling lively, so we 

 journeyed leisurely on down the canyon to- 

 ward Elsinore, stopping on the way at an 

 apiary owned by a Mr. Farr. We did not 

 tarry long, but began to make haste toward 

 Elsinore; but, alas! we had covered but a 

 short distance when the storm broke in 

 earnest, and a torrential rain began falling. 

 Harry, who was in the lead, took a spill in 

 the creek bed, and I followed quickly. He 

 got a " short " on a cutout switch connect- 

 ing his engine, and was helpless; but he 

 urged me to go for Elsinore " on the high," 

 saying that he would follow later. I 

 obeyed like a little boy, for water was now 

 running into my shoes. I pulled into the 

 first garage I came to, wet and cold, and 

 waited for Harry, who, in the meantime, 

 had found the source of his trouble. In 

 about twenty minutes he arrived. 



Still it rained. We were soaked and 

 chilled, and in sad need of dry clothes. We 

 visited a drygoods store and bought some 

 dry underwear, made our way to the bath- 

 house, and made the change. Then we went 

 to a restaurant for dinner, which we should 

 have enjoyed immensely save for the fact 

 that the coffee was made with sulphur wa- 

 ter, and that the proprietor nearly died 

 with an attack of asthma while we were at 

 the table. Still it rained. For three hours 

 we waited in vain for a clearing sky. 



The rain eventually ceased. We were 12 

 miles from Ferris Valley, and Harry was 

 obliged to be home at 6 p. m. The road was 

 there, to be sure, but such a road as it was 

 — mud, mud, mud ! We started over the 

 washboard hills back to Ferris. How we 

 got there I have never been able fully to 

 understand. I do know this, however. Harry 

 was in tlie lead all of the tim.e. Worse 

 roads could hardly be imagined for motor 

 cycling. Our machines slipped and skid- 

 ded, and I was never more tired in my life 

 than when I retired that night. My success 

 as a motorcycle novice in getting over such 

 roads was due largely to the fact that I was 

 riding a very low Excelsior, and my 34 

 inches of leg length was able to right my 

 machine many a time and prevent a spill. 



I spent the night with the Warrs — a 

 pleasant one indeed, and I was much im- 

 pressed with the practical ideas and devices 

 of both A. T. and his son Harry J. 



