AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE 



he goes forward also, and repeats his observations 

 till the tree is found, or till the bees turn and 

 come back upon the trail. Then he knows he has 

 passed the tree, and he retraces his steps to a con- 

 venient distance and tries again, and thus quickly 

 reduces the space to be looked over till the swarm 

 is traced home. On one occasion, in a wild rocky 

 wood, where the surface alternated between deep 

 gulfs and chasms filled with thick, heavy growths 

 of timber, and sharp, precipitous, rocky ridges like 

 a tempest-tossed sea, I carried my bees directly 

 under their tree, and set them to work from a high, 

 exposed ledge of rocks not thirty feet distant. One 

 would have expected them under such circumstances 

 to have gone straight home, as there were but few 

 branches intervening, but they did not; they labored 

 up through the trees and attained an altitude above 

 the woods as if they had miles to travel, and thus 

 baffled me for hours. Bees will always do this. 

 They are acquainted with the woods only from the 

 top side, and from the air above ; they recognize 

 home only by landmarks here, and in every instance 

 they rise aloft to take their bearings. Think how 

 familiar to them the topography of the forest sum- 

 mits must be, an umbrageous sea or plain where 

 every mark and point is known. 



Another curious fact is that generally you will 

 get track of a bee-tree sooner when you are half a 

 mile from it than when you are only a few yards. 

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