2<i 



THE . 1 MER K \ I .A* BEE- KEEPER. 



Feb. 



mony exonerates them, In the first 

 place, they caunot if they would, bite 

 through the skin of sound fruit. 

 Their mandibles are not made for cut- 

 ting, like those of the wasp and 

 hornet. Where they are thought to 

 be guilty, it is generally found, on in- 

 vestigation, that some other insect or 

 bird is the depredator, or that the 

 fruit is decaying from other causes. 



In the second place, the stuff that 

 bees get from fruit it is not only 

 worthless as food for them, but is 

 is positively injurious, showing that 

 Nature never intended the juice of 

 fruit as food for bees. They never 

 use it or gather it, except when natu- 

 ral and proper supplies are exhaust- 

 ed. 



There is therefore no reason why 

 the horticulturist and bee keeper 

 should not be friends. There should 

 be a reciprocity of acknowledgments 

 between them. The one cannot live 

 and prosper without the other. Both 

 avocations may follow side by side 

 without prejudice, and with mutual 

 advantage. The same spirit that out- 

 laws the bee because, forsooth, we 

 think some one else is reaping where 

 he has not sown, would regard jealous- 

 ly the acquisition of any property or 

 any other desirable thing by any 

 other person, no matter if we through 

 lack of industry or ability fail to ac- 

 quire ourselves. — From an address by 

 Eugene Secor. ( Io wa . ) 



HOW TO KNOW WHEN BEES ARE WINTER- 

 ING WELL IN THE CELLAR. 



Question. — I am a beginner in the 

 matter of wintering bees in the cellar, 

 and I wish you would tell me just how 

 I may know when my bees are winter- 

 ing well. Bv knowing the conditions 



of wintering well I can tell whether I 

 am right or wrong as I have them. 



Answer. — It will be a very hard 

 to tell all about this matter of the 

 well wintering of bees, in the short 

 space we feel at liberty to use here. 

 Perhaps the best I can do is to tell 

 just how I tind my bees in the cellar 

 this 14th day of December, as I have 

 just come from the cellar, having just 

 gone in with a view to answering this 

 question, and having found the bees 

 wintering well, according to my views 

 in the matter. The bee-cellar is per- 

 fectly dark — so dark that it is impos- 

 sible to discern even the faintest out- 

 line of a large piece of white paper 

 carried in with me. The four doors 

 have all been shut behind me, which 

 lead into the cellar, one after the 

 other as I went in, so that no disturb- 

 ing ray of light or breath of cold air 

 should arouse the bees in the least. 

 Being in total darkness I stand still 

 and listen, for in this listening we can 

 tell more about how the bees are win- 

 tering than by any one thing after 

 we have struck a light. The sound I 

 heard when listening is best described 

 by the low murmur of a gentle breeze 

 in the distant tree-tops, or, as 1 once 

 wrote, a hum of content, with now and 

 then, say once in 20 to 30 seconds, a 

 faint "zeep zeep," of a single bee, as 

 we often hear in the summer time, 

 only more suppressed, while on an 

 average of about once in every two 

 minutes a single bee will fly out from 

 some hive to the cellar-bottom, which 

 is readily told by the sound of its 

 wings. There are 60 colonies in the 

 cellar, and the above describes as best 

 I can all that could be heard during 

 ten minutes of standing perfectly still 

 before striking a light. Where mice 



