THE PASTORAL BEES 15 



practice, now entirely discredited by regular bee- 

 keepers but still resorted to by unscientific folk, of 

 beating upon tin pans, blowing horns, and creating 

 an uproar generally, might not be without good 

 results. Certainly not by drowning the "orders" of 

 the queen, but by impressing the bees, as with some 

 unusual commotion in nature. Bees are easily 

 alarmed and disconcerted, and I have known run- 

 away swarms to be brought down by a farmer plow- 

 ing in the field who showered them with handfuls 

 of loose soil. 



I love to see a swarm go off — if it is not mine, 

 and, if mine must go, I want to be on hand to see 

 the fun. It is a return to first principles again by 

 a very direct route. The past season I witnessed 

 two such escapes. One swarm had come out the 

 day before, and, without alighting, had returned to 

 the parent hive, — some hitch in the plan, perhaps, 

 or may be the queen had found her wings too weak. 

 The next day they came out again and were hived. 

 But something offended them, or else the tree in 

 the woods — perhaps some royal old maple or birch, 

 holding its head high above all others, with snug, 

 spacious, irregular chambers and galleries — had too 

 many attractions; for they were presently discovered 

 filling the air over the garden, and whirling excitedly 

 around. Gradually they began to drift over the 

 street; a moment more, and they had become sepa- 

 rated from the other bees, and, drawing together in 

 a more compact mass or cloud, away they went, a 

 humming, flying vortex of bees, the queen in the 



