852 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Nov. 15. 



dipper. At this he lifted a beautiful ther- 

 mometer out of the water, and showed me the 

 constant unvarying temperature of 45 degrees. 



" Why, do you mean this never changes, 

 winter or summer ? " 



" Yes, Mr. Root, it does change a little. It 

 is colder in summer than in winter." 



Now, I have heard such talk about spring 

 water being colder in summer than it is in 

 winter, from ignorant people ; but I was sur- 

 prised to hear this from a talented professor 

 like my companion, who is in the employ of 

 the government. He guessed my thoughts, 

 and smilingly enlightened me. 



" Mr. Root, this spring is the result of melt- 

 ing snows on the mountain. The snows are 

 melting now, and sending down great streams 

 of water through the rocks. Well, in winter 

 a great quantity of snow collects; but the snow 

 at the bottom, near the ground, keeps on 

 melting all winter long. This keeps the 

 spring running. But the greatest melting of 

 snow into water is along when the hot weather 

 commences, say May or June ; then a larger 

 quantity of water comes from the spring, and 

 flows more rapidly. At such times the tem- 

 perature might go down to 44 or possibly 

 43." 



Now, these little speckled trout are the 

 prettiest fellows in the world. In fact, I do 

 not know of any thing that has life that is 

 handsomer. I said there seemed to be millions 

 of little fish ; but I am told there are only 

 about one-fourth of a million. Just about a 

 million of eggs were shipped from the finest 

 trout regions of Connecticut and Massachu- 

 setts, and from the million of eggs about a 

 fourth that many fish will reach maturity. 

 These fishes are used to stock the streams and 

 lakes of Montana, and it is quite likely that 

 the speckled trout that I had been enjoying 

 with such extreme satisfaction the week before 

 was the product of the United States fish- 

 hatchery at Bozeman, Mont. From a little 

 book entitled "Bozeman in the Rockies," I 

 copy the following: 



The jaded worker from eastern city or farm, whose 

 unsteady nerve or suspicious cough or tormenting 

 indigestion was making him pessimistic, is often 

 transformed, as if by magic, into an animal whose 

 daily climbing and eating are equaled only by his 

 capacity for sleep. And this renewal of life, unlike 

 the brief deception of drugs, is genuine. 



I want to extend my thanks to Prof. Hen- 

 shall for the exceedingly pleasant and valuable 

 information he furnished when it was my good 

 fortune to visit him. I was greatly pleased to 

 learn that he was in former years connected 

 with our fish-hatcheries at Sandusky, Ohio. 

 He is well acquainted with the Castalia springs 

 of this State, which I have described before in 

 these pages, and, in fact, he is an enthusiast 

 like myself in regard to the springs of our 

 country, and pure-water supplies in general. 

 By the way, right in sight of the hatchery, in 

 the middle of the mountain brook, there 

 has been discovered a warm spring. They 

 are just now discussing plans to utilize this 

 warm spring for growing fishes that require a 

 higher temperature than do the mountain 

 trout. 



O U R 



HOMES, 



BY A.I. ROOT. 



My strength and my redeemer.^PSALM 19:14. 



A good many times in my early experiments 

 in bee culture I watched wiih great interest 

 the behavior of a bee when its hive was mov- 

 ed away. He would go sailing down to the 

 beloved spot where its home had always been, 

 with perfect confidence, and with light-heart- 

 ed alacrity with its load of pollen, and possi- 

 bly honey too. It expected, of course, to 

 hustle in at the well-known entrance where 

 he passed out and in hundreds of times a day 

 without a thought of the possibility that its 

 beloved home was in any way changed, much 

 less taken away entirel3\ With what aston- 

 ishment, sorrow, and dismay — nay, even 

 fright — it hovers around again and again, but 

 finds nothing ! " Why, what does this mean ? 

 what can have happened ? ' ' Suppose you 

 should some time hasten homeward with hur- 

 ried steps, not thinking of any possible harm 

 until you were at the very threshold of your 

 door, just when you expected a bright wel- 

 come from the happy wife, and shouts of 

 delight from the tidy little ones — suppose just 

 when you wei-e ready for the joyful welcome 

 you should find the home gone — not a trace 

 or vestige, only green grass or possibly a few 

 rotten sticks where the home had always been 

 until this moment — how would you feel? But 

 with the bee the case is still worse. Suppose 

 it is a member of a solitary hive, and it is a 

 season of the year when there are frosty 

 nights, then the loss of its home means death 

 — an}iiliilalio?i, perhaps, of the happy busy 

 little insect. If it can not find its home, and 

 mingle with the crowd as one of the busy, 

 humming, restless thousands, it is undone, 

 lost. Sometimes I have seen them vainly 

 exploring, and heard them uttering that well- 

 known mournful hum. At such times I have 

 seen them take wing away oflF at a distance, 

 back to the fields again — that is, if the fields 

 were not too far away. Then it swings 

 around and says, evidently, "Now I am sure 

 I am all right. There can be no possible mis- 

 take. I am on the right track I have known 

 so well all summer long, and I must surely 

 strike my home." The result is the same. 

 It finally alights to take breath, and then 

 crawls about disconsolately with its heavy 

 load of pollen. The pollen is of no use; and, 

 even though it be loaded with honey, thai is 

 of no use. The cool air reminds it that 

 death is near, for that home can not be found. 

 Blo.ssoms loaded with nectar are of no account 

 now. livery thing else sinks into insignifi- 

 cance. I have seen bees under such circum- 

 stances make several trips, apparently to make 

 sine the terrible calamity had befallen them. 

 Then I have seen them again in a little group 

 at sundown near where the home stood, and 

 there in the morning I have found them frozen 

 stiff. Sometimes they can be revived, but 

 usually not after a very severe freeze. 



