1899 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



613 



case ; and, though I was not so expert with 

 the wheel as my companion, we were making 

 very good time until we ran into a sandy road, 

 and it just wilted us off our wheels. Mr. 

 McNay immediately looked at his cyclometer, 

 and then, rising to his full height (he is a six- 

 footer if not more), he boasted how he had 

 ridden 17 miles without dismounting, and 

 how he had done better than that in Wiscon- 

 sin. Now, I could have done as well as he ; 

 but having his welfare in mind, and feeling 

 somewhat responsible for his safe return to 

 his wife, I had alighted several times to stone 

 those unpleasant dogs that nip at our wheels. 

 Then we passed through a little town that 

 was not properly labeled, and I halted to in- 

 quire the reason why. They had removed 

 the label down to the railroad station ; and as 

 the Southern Pacific owns nearly the whole 

 State, there was no use of having 

 a name. After my companion had 

 quieted down on his 17-mile ride 

 we proceeded, riding and walking 

 as the road permitted. 



"It is such a pleasant day," 

 said Mr. McNay, "I should think 

 the crows would make their ap- 

 pearance. We should have seen 

 dozens of them in Wisconsin by 

 this time." 



"Well," said I, "just be pa- 

 tient ; I am running this crow- 

 hunt, and this is California and 

 not Wisconsin. 



For about twenty miles our jour- 

 ney was up the east side of the San 

 Fernando Valley. W r e now faced 

 toward the mountains, and entered 

 the Little Tehunga Canyon. Mr. 

 McNay was still on the alert for 

 crows, and was a little ahead of 

 me, and at a sharp turn in the 

 road he dropped off his wheel and 

 shouted, "Here's the crows, Mr. 

 Rambler; get out your kodak!" 

 When I espied his crows I had to 

 smile. It was an old darkey wo- 

 man with several curly - headed 

 picininnies. 



" Why, Mr. McNay, those are 

 not California crows." 



" Well, that's the kind we have 

 in Wisconsin, any way," said Mr. 

 McNay, "and there is quite a sprinkling of 

 them in Florida too." 



We kept proceeding. It was getting toward 

 one o'clock. Oar stomachs had ground out 

 what little provender we had inserted in the 

 morning, and began to be rancorous for more. 

 As it was now up grade all the way, we were 

 inclined to rest often, and inclined to break 

 into our lunch-boxes; but while we were sitting 

 on a rock considering these inclinations, a 

 Spaniard on a load of wood appeared. "Now," 

 said I, "just hear me talk Spanish." 



"Hello, senor ! Ze zollyfired ger busty 

 loosy no bagatnagano." 



The Spaniard shouted back, " Bally no garry 

 zolly fried grubstake barranca." 



1 ' What in time did you and he say ? ' ' asked 

 Mr. McNay. 



" Oh ! I merely asked him if there were any 

 crows' nests near, and he said there was one 

 just above the barranca." 



"And what is a barranca? never heard of 

 such a thing in Wisconsin, any way," said 

 Mr. McNay. 



"Deuced if I know myself," said I; "I 

 think it must be a gate or a well." 



We pushed our wheels ahead of us, and 

 dragged our feet behind us, and came to one 

 of those rugged places in a canyon where the 

 rocky walls rise on every side, and the way 

 seems blocked for further progress ; but a sud- 

 den turn lets us through, and we come into 

 quite an opening. I swung my hat, and 

 shouted, " Hello, McNay ! look ahead of you ! 

 there is the crow's nest, and behold the 

 Crow." 



"Crow? ha! ha! why, Rambler, that is a 



A WISCONSIN CROWS' NEST. 



white crow. I never in my life saw that kind 

 in Wisconsin." 



" Well, that is the kind we have here. It's 

 our way, Mr. McNay, to have every thing best 

 in California." 



We had at last found the Crow's nest, and 

 the occupant was Jas. M. Crow, a California 

 bee-keeper of good repute. 



We refreshed ourselves immediately from 

 our lunch-boxes and from the ample larder of 

 the Crow's nest, which was placed at our 

 disposal. 



Mr. Crow divides his attention between his 

 apiary, his gold-mine, and his city home. In 

 the latter nest Mrs. Crow presides. Mr. Crow 

 had a fine apiary of 125 colonies in San Diego 

 Co., but he sold and moved to Los Angeles. 

 He came into possession of the present apiary 



