1897. 



THE AMEHICAN BEE JOURNA). 



547 



high as needed. My extractor calls for a Langstroth frame, 

 and as yet I have found no very serious objection to this 

 frame, and eight of them hi a hive makes a nice size to bancllo. 



Genesee Co., Mich., Aug. 14. 



% 



My Old Neighbor and His Bees. 



BY OKO. II. STlrr. 



The bee is a funny little creature, but she is too willini: 

 to poke her fun at other people's expense, and mako some 

 stinging remark which causes a person to feel a little smart. 



I have a neighbor who keeps bees. He is also a funny 

 fellow, altho he is more than SO years of age. Of course, he 

 is too old to learn ; man at that age knows it all, anyway. He 

 has a way of keeping bees that's all his own, derived from the 

 mature experience of antedeluvian days. He has, however, 

 been won over, by hook or crook, from the box-hive, and tink- 

 ers up some sort of a rickety imitation of a Langstroth hive, 

 with Hoffman frames, by means of dull jack-knife and rusty 

 bucksaw. 



My first inspiration in bee-keeping came from this quaint 

 old fellow ; so did my first hive. 1 shall never forget it, for it 

 was a nuisance which rullled my temper more times than I 

 can tell, and caused no end of trouble during the whole time 

 it was in my yard. There was no bee-space above the frames, 

 and the way the poor bees were squasht under the cover made 

 my blood run cold till I got bee-sense enough to tack some 

 strips on the top of the hive. But, even then, peace did not 

 reign, for everything was wrong, and the frames would not fit 

 other hives. At last, I transferred bees and comb to a newer 

 and better hive, and, in cutting away the comb from the old 

 frames, by an accidental scratch of the knife, I was astonisht 

 to find some of the top-bars filled with moth-larvae which had 

 bored into the wood and had been waxt over by the bees in 

 such a manner as to make discovery extremely unlikely. It 

 Is needless to say they were the black bees. The frames went 

 into the fire, instanter, and I thankt my stars I had made the 

 change. 



But to return to my amusing neighbor ! He keeps his 

 colonies (some 20 in number) crowded together on a long 

 board resting on two end supports. This rough bench bends 

 down in the middle with the weight of the bees in a way that 

 I know must be awfully uncomfortable to the poor creatures, 

 to say nothing of the unpleasantness of being very near neigh- 

 bors to one another. The hives are of all kinds, sizes and 

 shapes ; old, dirty and unkempt, with boxes, boards, and all 

 sorts of traps piled atop of them. For these and many other 

 reasons his bees have the reputation, well deserved, of being 

 the crossest bees in Christendom. 



The only thing that troubles the old gentleman Is "those 

 pesky, black robber-bees that come down from the moun- 

 tains" to steal his honey. Of course, his own bees are good 

 Christian bees, strict observers of the ten commandments. His 

 bees never steal ! It is the wicked hlack bee of the mountains 

 — those shiny fellows; altho his bees are about as black as 

 good religious bees can be. 



Of course, like more wicked bees, his bees swarm at the 

 proper season ; in fact, they swarm all over the season and 

 the country when they get started, and, because of their 

 honeyed (?) dispositions, they make things lively in the 

 neighborhood. Except for the fun, the neighbors would wish 

 they had never been born — the bees, of course. Almost every 

 day, and several times a day, the old gentleman may be seen 

 and beard out in the field beating a tin pan among the bees to 

 "call them down." Altho on such occasions he usually wears 

 a long, dirty, iraily piece of faded orange-yellow "skeeter" 

 bar, full of holes, he brags of his lack of fear of beestings. 

 The youthful hirsute adornment of his head has long since 

 past away, and instead thereof he covers his shining bald 



pate with a wig whose color Is of that significant hue sugges- 

 tive of a jute bag. 



Before we knew better, wc rusht out to help him settle 

 his swarms, emboldened by pleasant experiences in settling 

 our own bees, and imbued with a desire to be neighborly. 

 But, after several severe battles, we ceast "to have went." 

 After the first onslaught, the bees settled us, and wc could be 

 seen scattering ourselves to all points of the compass, clear- 

 ing the adjacent air with indescribable hastiness of demeanor 

 at variance with the usual dignity of bee-keepers, and leaving 

 naught behind us save a blue streak— of exclamation points 

 and some painful recollections. 



On one particular occasion, the old gentleman held his 

 ground for quite awhile. Suddenly, however, the soft music 

 of his timbrel ceast, and a retrospective view could be seen of 

 hill spreading his tracks around the barn with the gaudily 

 colored netting streaming behind like the loose habiliments of 

 a dancing dervish. In the wild scramble, the wig had lost 

 itself, and a little later the owner was found in the barn, 

 clawing mad bees from his whiskers and out of his sleeves 

 and pantaloons. Presently the door of his house opened, and 

 his good wife launcht forth such a tirade — I really believe the 

 poor old fellow wisht the bees would sting some more. Boiled 

 down, it was about like this : Now, pah, you'd better come 

 in and let them bees alone, or they'll sting you so bad you'll 

 git blood-pizen, sure." To this the patient old man solemnly 

 replied, "Mother, we still live." 



He generally monkeys with his bees about dark, as he 

 thinks they are quieter then. He frequently comes over to 

 borrow my smoker, which he considers a grand thing ; but not 

 grand enough to own one himself. To let him tell the tale, 

 "Them bees are just /lUt of honey,'" and no doubt the over- 

 flow is running down their little legs. But he doesn't let them 

 stay full long, and if it were not for our generally open win- 

 ters, they would surely starve to death. The honey he does 

 secure is usually so mussy that it is almost unsalable beside 

 better goods. He shipt some to the city once; but, like the 

 cat, it came back, much the worse for wear — the commission 

 men wouldn't handle it, principally because of its condition 

 through bad packing. 



When the old gentleman examines his hives, he cautiously 

 prys a cover off, peeps in, puts the cover on, bears his weight 

 upon it — "squash!" go a score of bees into eternity. Such 

 a thing as sliding the cover on never occurred to him, and his 

 place is too crowded for manipulation of any kind. I often 

 wonder if, when the time comes, the hand of Death will be 

 laid upon him so heavily as to squash him into Eternity, or 

 will the lid be slid gently on as he sinks into the quiet, peace- 

 ful slumber of the great beyond ? 



^ 



Santa Clara Co., Calif. 



The Season- Experiments with Non-Swarmers. 



BY I.. A. AsrlNWALL. 



Certainly, the continuous hum of bees for more than three 

 weeks during oppressively warm weather, had a semblance of 

 the monotonous roar which characterizes that of Niagara, and 

 added to the monotone was the inability to keep pace with our 

 bees in removing and supplying supers. 



The season has been extraordinary in many respects, and 

 the honey-yield phenomenal ; never have I known its equal. 

 This extraordinary yield appears still more phenomenal, when 

 but IS months ago bee-keepers were bemoaning the condition 

 which seemed to indicate that our honey-sources were being 

 obliterated by the woodman's axe, and a succession of ex- 

 tremely dry seasons. But following these conditions comes 

 the present season with an unprecedented amount of white 

 clover. 'Where none was visible last season it completely cov- 



