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87 



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To reduce the labor and expense of 

 poor seasons, I am getting the bees 

 into out-apiaries of about 25 colonies, in 

 which way they, even in a poor season, 

 get enough to winter, and do not need 

 much attention, unless they do get 

 something ; and even then, one need 

 not worry, if the arrangements are 

 good. But having them good, is some- 

 what of a task, which I liave not been 

 able to meet as perfectly and satis- 

 factorily as I like. 



Of course, I should not even attempt 

 to produce comb honej', which would 

 require constant care for swarming, 

 etc. ; and for producing extracted 

 honey, one needs a large hive, capable 

 of tiering np, and to have the queens' 

 wings clii)ped, unless some one is 

 about, to attend to swaniiing. 



If the honey-flow is light, I find that 

 they need little attention until the sea- 

 son is over, when the surplus may be 

 removed, and the bees prepared for 

 winter ; but if the flow is heavy, they 

 should be looked after, and empty cells 

 provided near the brood ; and it may 

 be necessary, or desirable, to make 

 one or more extractings before the 

 close of the season. To many, per- 

 haps, like myself, the item of little 

 labor when there Is little profit, and to 

 have other profitable occupation mean- 

 while, is a desirable feature, and when 

 there is much extra labor during a 

 heavy flow, we can readily manage to 

 get help. 



Marshallville, Ohio. 



BEE-CULTURE. 



Tbe Sunshine and Shadow of 

 Apiculture. 



Read at the Ontario Convention 



BY ALLEN PRINGLE. 



Nearly every occupation (and want of 

 occupation) under the sun has its sunshine 

 and its shadow,its ups and its downs. From 

 the king to the beggar, and from the million- 

 aire to the tramp, with not a meal of vict- 

 uals ahead of him, there is the cloud alter- 

 nating with the sun. 



And certain it is that the preponderance 

 of cloud in the drama of life is not always 

 with the beggar or the tramp. " Uneasy," 

 it is said, " is the head that wears a crown " 

 (the head that wears a stiug tor half a min- 

 ute is also uneasy for a time) ; and the 

 "Divinity that doth hedge a king" some- 

 times fails to hedge, and his regal tenure, 

 as in the case of the present Dom Pedro, is 

 painfully uncertain — sometimes as pre- 

 carious and uncertain as the beggar's next 

 meal.- 



But without further homily, we may as 

 well admit at once that the apiarist — even 

 the apiarist — has clouds mixed with his 

 sun, and sometimes mixed with a ven- 

 geance. Just how much sunshine or 

 shadow there may be in any particular 

 case, depends much upon the particular 

 individual himself or herself. Some people 

 — left-handed people, as it were — are al- 

 ways in a cloud, or hot water, no matter 

 what business they are in, or out of. They 



manage to raise a cloud of dust about their 

 own eyes and ears, and although " Old Kol" 

 may be smiling on them from above, they 

 see none of him; and the music of the 

 spheres never reaches their ears. These 

 are the pessimists. Others, again, see all 

 the sunshine within their visual or mental 

 ranee, and hear all the music that Nature 

 or Fate vouchsafes. 



The bee-keeper may, however, among all 

 others, be justly described as " Dot happy 

 bee-man," of whom our American cousins, 

 Secor and Miller, have so eloquently sung. 

 The old saying, that it is better to laugh 

 than cry over the misfortunes of life (even 

 though the misfortune be a pointed one), is 

 on the whole, good — very good advice — so 

 long as the laugh carries with it the whole- 

 some lesson of experience to avoid a repe- 

 tition of the misfortune. Of course, every 

 bee-keeper who is a philosopher as well, 

 will bear the pointed and barbed misfor- 

 tune as best he can, and try to ward it off 

 next time. 



Now, taking the bee-keepers, who are 

 bee-keepers, all in all together, I think they 

 have more sun than cloud in their pursuit 

 of honey. PossiV)ly this may be an optimis- 

 tic view, and the writer may be looking 

 through the clouds into the sun with lumin- 

 ous glasses. Be this as it may, he takes 

 pleasure and pride in saying that his own 

 apicultural horizon has been encouragingly 

 free from clouds. In other words, he not 

 only derives a high order of mental pleas- 

 ure and profit from the pursuit, but makes 

 it pay in dollars and cents from year to 

 year. You may perhaps put this and that 

 together, and draw a conclusion not flatter- 

 ing to the speaker's modesty — this, viz: 

 that he has not had much cloud ; and that, 

 viz: that the amount of cloud depends 

 mostly upon the man himself. The conclu- 

 sion is apparently logical enough, but does 

 not necessarily follow from the premises. 

 The matter may be explained concisely in 

 one sentence, to-wit : He always did love 

 the honey-bee, and bee-stings never did 

 hurt him, to speak of. Whatever the cause 

 — whether of nature or grace — this depo- 

 nent is as nearly sting-proof as any one need 

 desire, and be reasonable. I can imagine 

 our worthy President Clarke, or our vener- 

 able absent friend, Father Langstroth, or 

 our versatile cousin, James Heddon, whose 

 nerves and blood are, I believe, so painfully 

 responsive to the barbed dart, exclaiming : 

 "This, indeed, is the cloud of bee-keeping 

 with us, beyond even an adverse balance 

 sheet." I cannot sympathize with such 

 from experience, but I sincerely extend to 

 them my theoretical sympathy, should that 

 be worth anything. 



I tell you, gentlemen (and ladies), that I 

 have learned, not of myself, but from 

 others — that by far the biggest cloud above 

 the horizon of bee-keeping comes directly 

 from the business-end of a business-bee ; 

 and the fortunate bee-keeper who has a 

 " coat of mail " invulnerable to that lance 

 (not outside of him, but inside of him), has 

 a tremendous advantage in the race over 

 his less fortunate brethren. The bee-keeper, 

 therefore, who can receive that " business- 

 end "referred to above, without flinching, 

 and even with equanimity, and can steer 

 clear of most of the other evils and obsta- 

 cles of the business, and take the inevitable 

 balance of ills like a philosopher, is to be 

 congratulated, or is a fit subject for a cer- 

 tain amount of envy, as the case may be. 

 On the other hand, those of us whose nerves 

 and blood rebel against a sting, and who 

 are not able to avert the clouds of winter 

 losses, spring dwindling, foul brood, and 

 others of less sombre hue, deserve not only 

 our sympathy, but our assistance, and I 

 purpose now to give my mite of assistance 

 in the shape of a little advice, after I have 

 briefly enumerated the sunny and cloudy 

 points of bee-keeping. 



The sky of the apicultural novice is, as a 

 rule, remarkably clear, in prospect at least, 

 but when he gets down to business the 

 clouds soon begin to gather. 



On a fiue morning in spring, he gets his 

 first "skep" of bees, and carefully places 

 them in the front yard on a l>ench under 

 the plum-tree. Koon he sees thom sally 

 forth in the sunshine, and return laden 

 with little golden pellets on their legs, 

 which he joyfully regards as the " stuff 

 they make the honey of." Visions of in- 

 crease of "skeps" of honey for his table, 

 and honey for the market to replenish his 

 purse, come up before him, and he is happy. 



Indue time his "skep" swarms, and he 

 hives the new recruit successfully. They 

 go to work. To make a proud beginning in 

 manipulation, he nowputfs with his smoker, 

 opens the hive and lifts an outside frame 

 of honey from the old colony or parent 

 skep, wings off the young bees according 

 to the book, and goes to the house tri- 

 umphantly with his prize, and makes a 

 magnificent, melliflous spread for dinner. 

 He is now, to all intents and purposes, 

 " Dot happy bee-man," with not a cloud in 

 his sky. The new swarm and the old colony 

 go on industriously and iu^prove "each 

 shining hour," and everything is lovely 

 with the incipient apiarist. 



But the whirligig of time brings its 

 changes aud its revenges. The new colony 

 has filled up and become strong and ready 

 to swarm. The old skep, too, in the midst 

 of abundance, has hustled up to the swarm- 

 ing-poiut again, and both take advantage 

 of the sun after a cloud, and issue together. 

 They mingle in the air in fraternal greet- 

 ing, and cluster together in the top of the 

 plum-tree. 



Our amateur bee-keeper is now in a 

 " swither " what to do, and quite loses his 

 head. He gets out the table, however, sets 

 it under the tree, and spreads a white sheet 

 over it as carefully as that over the corpse 

 at " Tim Pinnigan's wake," and soon to be 

 followed by a similar " ruction." Then 

 after washing out the new hive with salt 

 and water, and swiping it with a tansy 

 stalk, he stands himself upon the table, 

 holds the hive up with his one hand, 

 and with the other hand shakes the 

 bees down. But they miss the hive and fall 

 on his head, aud down his neck and shirt- 

 sleeves, where the close quarters and the 

 odor of sweat put them in fighting trim 

 instanter. 



Horror of horrors ! He drops the hive 

 and leaps from the table in pain with a 

 cloud of bees about his head. With the ex- 

 ception of this fighting detachment, the 

 two swarms rise in the air and make a bee- 

 line for the woods, with our now thoroughly 

 demoralized neophyte in limping pursuit 

 to the best of his ability, over fields and 

 fences, through dykes and ditches, until he 

 loses sight of the fugitives and sinks ex- 

 hausted, his eye-sight by this time being 

 none of the best, peeping out from a head 

 dazed, and of most extraordinary propor- 

 tions. He rests a little and writhes a great 

 deal, and then slowly gropes his way back. 

 This is his first cloud, and a big one it is — 

 in fact it is the " blackness of darkness " to 

 him, for now he can see neither sun nor 

 cloud, nor anything else. We now gently 

 leave this brother in distress where he is, 

 with our kindest sympathies — all we can 

 offer. 



Now, the sunshine of bee-keeping, to put 

 it briefly, is this: First, to be able to take 

 a sting without minding it; second, to win- 

 ter and spring the bees without loss ; third, 

 to steer clear of foul brood ; and finally, to 

 get a crop of honey each year and sell it at 

 a good price, and the surplus bees ditto. 

 This is what may be properly called sunny 

 and successful bee-keeping, and is the grand 

 goal of apicultural ambition, but few there 

 be that find it. 



