.Tanuarv, 1921 



GT. BAKINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



33 



entirely innocent of reading or study or 

 research. Beekeeping is not really a side- 

 line with such people, it doesn 't get them 

 anywhere; it is just a sort of accident, a 

 happen-so, really a regrettable delay on the 

 road to progress. There the bees arc. That 's 

 all. Often there are swarms; occasionally 

 there is honey. When a swarm comes out the 

 deluded keeper and his wife and his chil- 

 dren and his servants come running with 

 bells that they ring most gayly and pans 

 that they beat most frantically, all una- 

 ware that the beekeeping fraternity is smil- 

 ing at them for thus keeping alive a queer 

 silly old tradition, "Better keep bees bet- 

 ter or better not keep bees," as the popular 

 slogan puts it. 



The real sideline beekeeper who has 

 studied and read has perhaps clipped off 

 the wing of his queen bee so that she can- 

 not fly, because he knows the swarm will 

 never go away without her. Or, his wits 

 sharpened by reading of the efforts and 

 successes of others, he pits them against 

 the bees' instincts, and keeps them from 

 even wanting to swarm. He has studied the 

 habits and behavior of the mysterious mul- 

 titude that inhabit his correct modern 

 hive, and he is learning all he can of their 

 ways and their needs and what they will 

 likely do when things are thus and so. 



He has made the acquaintance of the nec- 

 tar-bearing flora of his locality, and the 

 time of its blooming. In February and early 

 March the first swelling high in the elms 

 and maples is to him as a message, and he 

 looks to see his busy workers come drifting 

 in with great loads of pollen. The dandelion 

 means huge balls of precious yellow dust, 

 rich in food elements for the baby bees 

 being reared in the awakened hives. Blos- 

 somed apple trees and plums thrill him with 

 the vibrating hum of his bees as they plun- 

 der and bless. He knows what disaster may 

 come, and how to ward it off, when the un- 

 subdued winter turns fiercely back to drive 

 the spring into some hiding place that only 

 the south Avind knows. With new and more 

 seeing eyes he watches the clover fields 

 come into bloom. Basswood and poplar he 

 counts as friends, and he thanks the hills 

 for the sourwood tree. What were once to 

 him but unnoticed weeds become heartsease 

 and Spanish needle, and in the autumn he 

 calls the wild aster by name. 



He opens his hives, and what he sees that 

 is not good he sets about to remedy. He rec- 

 ognizes disease and knows what men of 

 science say to do. Where there is no queen 

 he can give one so skillfully that even an 

 inhospitable people accept her as their own 

 and will die to defend her. If he would have 

 more colonies, he knows how to set about 

 starting new ones. He is aware of the ebb 

 and flow of the nectar and adjusts his stor- 

 age space accordingly. He takes a maximum 

 of honey from his hives, and leaves a maxi- 

 mum therein for his bees. He meets the 

 challenge of the hive with a wisdom and 



skill born of the experience of others whom 

 he knows only thru the printed page. 



As for the charm of it, think of coming 

 from the office or bank, the factory or store 

 or courtroom, from the noise and crowd 

 and perplexities and the soul-wearying 

 strain of it all, to some quiet spot where 

 white hives are ranged along green grass 

 under cherry trees or grapevines, where a 

 mocking bird pours out its miracle of song 

 across the sunlight and all around is the 

 humming of bees. There is nothing like it in 

 the whole world for the healing of one 's soul. 

 If, after the first resting and enjoyment, 

 he starts work — what work it is! He blows 

 a bit of smoke into the entrance of a hive, 

 removes the cover gently and draws out a 

 comb of bees. And behold he is face to face 

 with the very heart of the hive and its hid- 

 den workings. The comb may be newly built, 

 white and waxy and fragile, or it may be 

 old and dark and strong, reinforced with 

 uncounted layers of almost invisible co- 

 coons. It may be filled thru all its rows of 

 six-sided cells with fragrant ripening nec- 

 tar, or the rich, fully ripened honey may be 

 sealed from sight under its silver covers; it 

 may have eggs like tiny ivory specks in 

 the polished cells, or wee white larvae wait- 

 ing to be fed by the faithful nurses; or the 

 cells and their occupants may be covered 

 over, as with coarse fibrous blankets, hiding 

 the age-old marvel of metamorphosis. There 

 wings are forming that shall fly with eager 

 strength across the light of summer days to 

 come. There in the darkness each pupa is 

 growing its three single eyes and two 

 strange compound ones, that shall some day 

 guide it with swiftness thru the ways of 

 light and with patience thru the dusky hive. 

 He may see one of these coverings being 

 cut out by the strong mandibles of the now 

 fully-formed bee within- And there in tlu' 

 singing silence he may watch the little life 

 make its way out of the close darkness of 

 its embryonic solitude into the crowded 

 teeming tireless life of the hive. He may 

 see the big-bodied drones loafing on the 

 combs or hear their buzzing as they fly. 



On some one of the eight or ten combs 

 that hang so straisrht and parallel down 

 into the sweet-smelling hive, he may find 

 the queen, wearing her gold-trimmed rai- 

 ment with a royal air. Her faithful attend- 

 ants in a circle around her, she walks 

 quietly across the comb, examining one cell 

 after another to see if it be ready for the 

 precious egg that she alone, of all the thou- 

 sands there, can lay. And while she deposits 

 it, with her long graceful body curved 

 down into the cell, her attendants stroke 

 her gently with delicate antennae. 



So all the mystery and marvel of this lit- 

 tle people living there among his roses un- 

 folds before him, till he forgets the press 

 and turmoil of the marketplace, taut nerves 

 relax and his soul grows glad and strong, 

 eager and serene, while the hours go sing- 

 ing by. 



