1894 



GLEANINdS IN BEE CULTURE. 



860 



•short timo trying to find a bee-tree, but did not 

 succeed, though they must be plentiful here. 



Mr. Hilton had been telling me that he knew 

 of a good bee and honey range that would just 

 suit me; and here in this wild spot, with moun- 

 tains rising upon all sides of us, Mr. H. enthusi- 

 astically exclaimed, " Here, Mr. Rambler, is the 

 place for you." It was certainly retired enough, 

 and the bees would have an easy flight to the 

 hives. All they would have to do would be to 

 fold their wings and drop ; but the purling 

 stream I was looking for was not large enough, 

 and I told Mr. H. that I would look further. 



In the early morning, while Mr. H., Frances, 

 and I, were climbing to the lake, Mr. Wilder 

 went on a deer-hunt, but returned, as usual, 

 empty-handed, saying that he saw only signs. 

 I began to have a downright disrespect for his 

 deer-hunting qualities: and he had come in so 

 many times from an arduous early-morning 

 climb, with his signs story, that I had a private 

 smile up my sleeve every time. 



We concluded that the journey for our ponies 

 would be much easier if we moved our camp 

 toward the mouth of the canyon, and we ac- 

 cordingly traveled down several miles and 

 •camped again under one of those noble broad- 

 spreading live-oaks. Mr. Wilder rolled himself 

 in his blanket again, and slept under the wag- 

 ou, while the rest of us sought the tent. In the 

 "wee sma' hours" of the night the sharp re- 

 port of a rifle aroused us, and, upon inquiry, Mr. 

 Wilder informed us that a fox had tried to ap- 

 propriate our provisions. The fox escaped, and 

 left the usual " signs "' of being around. 



Mr. Wilder's mind, however, on deer was 

 bent ; and ere the morning gray had streaked 

 the east, a hasty morsel of food he snatched, 

 and was away to the mountains. Mr. Hilton, 

 Frances, and the rest of us. arose when so in- 

 clined, and prepared our breakfast of good 

 things. While we were stowing it away we 

 heard the sharp report of the rifle, far up the 

 mountain. Soon another bang, then another. 



■■ Signs of deer," said I, with a sardonic grin. 



•■ Yes," said Mr. H., "signs of deer." 



In the course of an hour Mr. Wilder returned 

 to camp, calm and collected. 



" Signs of deer ? " said I. 



"Yes," said he, "'signs of deer." 



He sat down and filled the inner man, and 

 then invited us to help him bring in his game — 

 a deer. 



'• Why, Wilder, you're joking. It was only 

 «igns. wasn't it? " 



"Mr. Rambler," said he, "it is a deer this 

 time." 



I believed him immediately, for he said it 

 with a sort of oeorge Washington I-can't-lie 

 manner that carried conviction. Mr. H. and I 

 followed him about half a mile up the canyon, 

 and there was the defunct deer, sure enough. 

 My sardonic smile up the sleeve did not fit that 

 morning, and I threw it away, and have not in- 



dulged in one since. The deer was duly photo- 

 graphed, and all parties concerned are true to 

 life. It was duly dressed, and taken to town; 

 and for several days we lived on venison. My 

 partner rose several degrees, as a deer- hunter, 

 in the estimation of Mr. H. and the Rambler. 



CALIFORNIA ECHOES. 



By Ramhlcr. 



Mr. J. Hilton, of Los Alamos, has an apiary 

 for sale. He also mentions Spanish seuori- 

 tas. Please excuse the Rambler, Mr. Hilton. 

 I will turn the field over to some gushing ten- 

 derfoot. Those senoritas are very pretty, 

 though. 



Which have the longest tongues— Carniolans 

 or Italians'? Mr. Wilder says the Italians have. 

 His experience is first-class, for he has had 

 more picture talk with Italian women than 

 any other person of my acquaintance. Their 

 tongues were always too much for him. 



" The bees of Brazil hang their combs outside 

 on branches of trees, at the very summit, and 

 at the ends of slender twigs, to be out of the 

 way of monkeys, which are very fond of hon- 

 ey." The above is a clear case of education in 

 the race of bees, where some claim there is 

 none. 



There is also a good round story about a 

 Florida colony securing .wO lbs. of honey in one 

 season. I believe it. But when we hear that 

 a colony has produced 1000 lbs. in one season, 

 our credulity is stretched as tight as a fiddle- 

 string. If the fellow had added just one pound 

 more I would have jumped up and shouted, 

 "It's a lie." 



The California woodpecker may be called an 

 educated bird. He first drills a hole in the 

 bark of a tree, large enough to accommodate 

 an acorn. He then gets his acorn, always a de- 

 fective one, or one in which is an embryo grub, 

 and inserts it in the hole. In due lime the 

 grub becomes a luscious morsel, and the wood- ■ 

 pecker is on hand for his feast. 



Now, editor Ernest, when you are out on a 

 wheel again, and want to find Bell Branch or 

 the other town, don't inquire of a dude hotel 

 clerk. They know but little outside the four 

 walls of their little office. Just ask my friend 

 the blacksmith. He will set you right every 

 time. The next best place is a livery-stable 

 keeper. Here in California my friend the 

 blacksmith is posted on roads for a hundred 

 miles in all directions. 



A writer in the A. B. J. says bees get fat and 

 lazy, and that, too, during a dearth Of honey. 

 A California man told me that his bees become 

 poor, scrawny, and lazy, just like his cattle, 

 when the feed was short. The latter doctor, 

 whose opinion is opposed to the former, could 

 neither read nor write. His wife was obliged 



