Nov. 22, 1906 



965 





American Bee Journal 



'ur 



Hee -Keeping 



Conducted by Emma M. Wilson, Marengo, 111. 



Moving Bees 



Being anything- but a nomad, I sur- 

 prise myself when I recall the experi- 

 ence which has been forced on me in 

 moving bees. Sleds — than which noth- 

 ing is more handy — all kinds of wag- 

 ons, from the honey-wagon to the hay- 

 wagon, railroads and steamboats, each 

 and all have been called into requisi- 

 tion, as the case demanded. Now, do 

 not get excited through imaginary 

 visions of some new method of moving 

 about to be brought to light. 



I have to offer neither patented plans 

 nor implements on which I hope to 

 reap a royalty. I am so much indebted 

 to the bee-keepers at large, that should 

 I stumble on anything new under the 

 sun, or any particularly bright idea, I 

 should feel obligated to give it freely 

 to the public, knowing full well that I 

 had received my pay with usury long 

 ago. 



To lay down a certain system for 

 moving bees is out of the question, as 

 each case has its peculiar variations. 

 These variations, most probably, 

 largely constitute a part of the pleas- 

 ure to be found in bee-keeping. 



Were one possessed of a preferred 

 system, it would be like " casting 

 pearls before swine " to offer it to an 

 average teamster, such as one picks up 

 at random over the country. It's an 

 exception if he does not "know it all !" 

 What does a bee-keeper know, espe- 

 cially a woman, about loading and un- 

 loading, and teaming in general, any- 

 how ? He is a past grand-master in 

 the art of handling bees, and it's " big 

 I " and " little U " until some disaster 

 overtakes the expedition, and matters 

 are simply reversed, and the unfortu- 

 nate apiarist is most suddenly in de- 

 mand at all points. His stock of wis- 

 dom and judgment soars skyward 

 many points, like a flash, in the estima- 

 tion of ye frightened and frenzied 

 driver. 



At this stage of proceedings the api- 

 arist may consider himself exceedingly 

 fortunate, if after a few exasperated — 

 worse than useless because harmful — 

 efforts on the part of the assistant, 

 who is by this time not only humiliated 

 but disgusted in consequence if said 

 helper does not " unhook " and leave 

 without ceremony. 



Frequently such a character is not 

 content with the injury which he him- 

 self can, and does, inflict, but seems to 

 have a personal revenge to satisfy, and 

 will use his influence to the best of his 

 ability not only to prevent others from 

 aiding you, but to make you trouble in 

 general. Thus, an endless chain of 



misfortunes springs from a single mis- 

 hap. 



March 1 brings about many changes ; 

 perhaps it's to be in the " big parade " 

 that the changing of locations is us- 

 ually deferred until spring. (I've some- 

 times questioned whether the extremely 

 popular habit of putting off until to- 

 morrow had anything to do with classi- 

 fying this work with that necessarily 

 done in the spring.) Certain it is, at 

 that season, we attack all manner of 

 work with renewed vim, possibly be- 

 cause all things around us are along 

 with the new year, springing into new 

 life, and as results of the coming fray 

 are yet behind the misty veil of the 

 unknown future, they of course are, 

 more especially to the bee-keeper, 

 promising. Oh, but it's so natural to 

 wait for spring and join hands with 

 Nature and promenade all. 



Admitted there are good reasons for 

 postponing the moving of bees until 

 spring, prominent among which is the 

 fact of the combs being light from the 

 consumption of the winter stores, and 

 brood-rearing not yet in an advanced 

 stage. But how about the roads ? Are 

 they not roost frequently bad beyond 

 description ? Last spring they out- 

 generaled the best of them, and ruled 

 that locomotion (on country roads) be 

 narrowed down to horseback riding, 

 and at the last extreme to " foot-back " 

 business. Largely on this account, 

 and partly because we can expect more 

 pleasant weather, we are trying the ex- 

 periment of changing locations in the 

 fall of the year. 



Where cellar-wintering is practised, 

 the moving of an apiary is not such a 

 formidable task. To begin with, all 

 hands are more in practise and on the 

 alert for all the possible adverse hap- 

 penings which are liable to present 

 themselves in a more or less forcible 

 manner. Then, too, the implements 

 and all connected with this work are 

 mostly in readiness, and are easily 

 "come-at-able." But where colonies 

 remain on the same stands winter and 

 summer for a stretch of years, and 

 " the spirit moves " for a change — 

 there, and then, you are introduced to 

 the "tug o' war." The number of 

 sprung, or warped and rotten bottom- 

 boards which refuse to bear their own 

 weight is truly surprising, and these 

 furnish such grand opportunities for 

 the legions to pour forth on the de- 

 fensive ! 



About this time resolutions in regard 

 to practical and substantial founda- 

 tions are in order ; the same " are born 

 but to die " during the push of the fol- 

 lowing swarming season. Moving an 



apiary is much like a general house- 

 cleaning, a seemingly necessary nui- 

 sance, which, viewed from the distance, 

 is a terrible bug-a-boo, but which often 

 turns out to be a good thing all around 

 after all. 



Many things over which the apiarist 

 has no control direct, determine or 

 compel a move, chief among which are : 

 A complete change of character of the 

 territory ; an over-crowded condition 

 of the same ; a change of tenants or 

 owners of the land on which the apiary 

 stands; unreasonably disagreeable 

 neighbors ; and other minor consider- 

 ations. (The mention of disagreeable 

 neighbors does not necessarily imply 

 that the bee-keeper is always agree- 

 able. However, it's safe to affirm that 

 the average bee-keeper will put up with 

 many discomforts and make-shift plans 

 rather than to go a-gipsying.) 



Because renters are more liable to 

 move than land-owners, one is lucky to 

 secure a location on which the owner 

 of the land himself resides. All else 

 being agreeable, the risk of compulsory 

 move is considerably lessened. 



By moving in the fall we can con- 

 gratulate ourselves on escaping not 

 only the mud, but the wintry, pneumo- 

 nia-producing blasts of March as well. 

 Mud and snow, on which to move bees, 

 are all right provided the road is level 

 and not cut into ruts and holes, as well 

 as sidling places having been formed 

 by continued soft weather and heavy 

 hauling. Both mud and snow serve as 

 a cushion to break the jolts as does a 

 bed of dust. To be sure, a liberal coat 

 of the latter heightens our appreciation 

 of a bath — in fact, renders a free use of 

 the same unavoidable. But a bath 

 always pays for the trouble in the way 

 of refreshing effects, the returns com- 

 ing in on the spot accompanied with a 

 good rate of interest. And while we 

 are contending with the dust, we are 

 evading that slipping and sliding and 

 "stick in the mud" experince which 

 always attends teaming in mud and 

 snow. The difference in the weather 

 would decide in favor of fall moving. 

 Bustling March keeps one hustling if 

 he succeeds in keeping fingers and 

 toes from tingling. 



What more quieting than our lovely 

 autumn days ? Basking in the warm, 

 golden sunshine, enveloped in the 

 hazy, mellow atmosphere, scarcely dis- 

 turbed by the slightest zephyr, one is 

 sorely tempted to follow Nature's ways 

 as she seems to be dozing or catching 

 the first naps of the long winter's sleep 

 beneath her newly-made coverlet of 

 forest leaves. What more fitting than 

 that these quiet, drowsy days should 

 follow the arduous ones of the more 

 active season ? May those of us who 

 may live to a ripe old age, find the 

 autumn of our lives as peaceful and 

 beautiful. 



For all this coddling and coaxing to 

 enter into this delightfully dreamless 

 sleep, I am awake to the cost of mov- 

 ing the bees. Cost in time, labor and 

 money, and I might add patience. 

 Many times when things go at a snail's 

 pace, and everything lags but Old 

 Time, and he takes wing and flies, I 

 long to find an electrical button to 

 push, and fire more ginger into the 

 hired-man. 



Right here is room for a new inven- 



