872 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Nov 



don't know any more about the business (nor half 

 so much) as we modest fellows that hide our camels 

 under a bushel. 



"Now, I never stumbled on to two lines of poetry 

 in all my experience in a bee-yard; and the nearest 

 to the genuine article that I ever read of was where 

 Samson extracted honey out of the carcass of a 

 dead lion, on the way to see his girl. That's what I 

 call sweet hum poetry. But we fellers that have 

 to rustle for a living, extract mighty little poetry 

 out of the back-aches and the arm-aches and the 

 sting-aches of the honey-business. And then, if, in 

 the general round-up in the fall, the surplus in the 

 treasury isn't large enough to get up a dispute 

 over as to whether you shall take it to buy Mi- 

 randy a new calico dress, or send it to the heathen, 

 I don't believe the business is healthy. 



" Now, I never tried to write a line of poetry siuce 

 I used to write valentines to Mirandy, way back in 

 the'40's; but if I should try to write verses about 

 the bees, with my present feelin's, it would be 

 something like this: 



" 'Tis bees' delight to buzz and bite. 

 They're alwajs aching for a fight. 



And always sure to win it. 

 They'll knock the music out of a poet. 

 They'll make a fellow with rheumatiz go it— 

 Though as stiff as a poker he'll shin it. 

 "When these darlin' little creatures are so hun- 

 gry, they follow him around the yard to smell his 

 breath." Eugene Secor. 



Forest City, Iowa, Oct. 13, 1888. 



But, friend S., what makes you stop so 

 sudden? It almost brings your readers up 

 short. Did the supply of apples give out all 

 at once, or did Mirandy declare she was 

 ready to go home, and would not stay any 

 longer? And, again, what did you have to 

 say in regard to the subject? "You might 

 have reminded the deacon that bee-stings 

 are good for the "■ rheumatiz," even if they 

 do sometimes make one " go it " in spite of 

 rheumatism. 



than to trample down the vines. To save unnec- 

 essary stooping as much as possible, a very simple 

 implement is used. 



CUCUMBER AS A HONEY-PLANT. 



DR. MILLER TELLS US SOMETHING ABOUT PICKLE- 

 FACTORIES AS WELL AS BEES AND HONEY. 



1^ T Marengo is located a pickle-factory. The 

 ^1^ stockholders, through their management, 

 ^^ contracted in the spring of 1888 to take the 

 cucumbers from some 325 acres, and, besides 

 what they contracted for, took all that were 

 raised, making the" total average in cucumbers 

 more than2.50 acres. For small cucumbers, 40 cents 

 per bushel was paid, and a limited quantity of 

 large ones were taken at 15 cents per bushel. The 

 total product was something more than 30,000 bush- 

 els. Those who raised the pickles were mostly 

 farmers, using good farming land without any 

 special preparation. The various patches contained 

 one, two, and in some cases five or more acres. The 

 fields were limited in size by the difficulty of har- 

 vesting the crop, for picking cucumbers by the 

 acre is no child's play, but a tedious, back-breaking 

 job. The man with a large family could raise more 

 cucumbers than the one with few children; for 

 men, women, and children joined in the service. 

 During the picking season it was a common thing 

 to see the whole family out in the cucumber-patch, 

 even down to the little tot who could do little more 



It is merely a bit of thin 

 board, a foot or more 

 long, on which is nailed di- 

 agonally a straight stick 

 for a handle. The picker 

 walks along the row, push- 

 ing the leaves aside with 

 this tool, which enables 

 him to see where the cu- 

 cumbers are, and no 

 stooping need be done ex- 

 cept when a cucumber is seen. The cucumbers are 

 generally put in bags to take to the factory, and 

 wagons loaded with the bags may be seen ap- 

 proaching the factory from all directions. Some- 

 times, especially on Saturday night, the line of 

 teams awaiting their turns is so long that it is 

 very late in the night before the last team has a 

 chance to unload. 



Some of the producers brought their cucumbers 

 as much as six miles or more; and as neither of my 

 apiaries was five miles from the pickle-factory, all 

 my bees had a chance to work on the cucumber- 

 blossoms. It is not an easy thing for me to say just 

 how much they obtained from that source. On the 

 one hand, the yield is very far below what I had 

 supposed; for, from watching the time a bee spent 

 on a single blossom, I had supposed an acre of blos- 

 soms would supply quite a flood of nectar; whereas 

 at no time was there any rapid storing, the best, 

 perhaps, being hardly more than a pound per day 

 per colony. On the other hand, it was a matter of 

 no little consequence to me to have my bees heavi- 

 ly supplied for winter with honey that I think was 

 mainly from cucumbers, thus saving a repetition of 

 the experience of last year, when I had to feed 3800 

 pounds of granulated sugar to winter my bees. 

 Last year, cucumbers, as well as every thing else, 

 failed to yield nectar, on account of the terrible 

 drouth. Instead of having to feed this year, I ex- 

 tracted 400 pounds of honey to relieve hives that 

 were crowded. I do not know that I could furnish 

 a single ounce of honey that I could certify as clear 

 cucumber, for goldenrod, asters, and a very little 

 buckwheat were at the disposal of the bees, and I 

 can not tell what proportion of this may be mixed 

 with the cucumber. As nearly as I can tell, cucum- 

 ber honey is of fair consistencj', not much darker 

 than clover, and of flavor not very pronounced. 

 Most of those who have sampled it think the flavor 

 very fine, some preferring it to clover, while those 

 who, I think, are better judges, place it much below 

 clover or linden. 



Since writing the last sentence I have had my 

 supper, and on the table was a sample of the honey 

 of which I have been speaking. It was critically 

 tasted and discussed by the family, and admitted 

 by all to be fine; but whether the flavor was entire- 

 ly, or indeed largely, due to cucumber, I am not 

 prepared to say. It seemed to me very much like a 

 combination of flavors. Emma, who is no great 

 lover of honey, pronounces the flavor similar to 

 buckwheat; but as it is very little lighter in color 

 than clover, there certainly can be no great amount 

 of buckwheat in it. It is possible that it is mainly 

 cucumber with so mild a flavor that a very little 

 honey from other sources overpowers the cucum- 

 ber flavor. 1 never had any honey to granulate so 



