AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



143 



lined, " Busily engaged " is bat faintly 

 descriptive of their labors, for, except 

 upon yellow poplar bloom, or buck- 

 wheat, I have never seen bees in such 

 vast numbers. 



When I first observed them I con- 

 cluded that they were collecting pollen, 

 but going further I noticed the contented 

 hum of honey gathering, and, upon close 

 inspection, I failed to see any pollen in 

 the sacs upon their thighs, but found 

 each little worker loading up his store 

 of honey to carry home ; and an ample 

 one it proved to be, as they all appeared 

 to have filled up to their utmost capacity. 



Another fact I observed — in many 

 places much catnip grew up with the 

 wild parsnip, and by close watching I 

 noticed that not a bee left the bloom of 

 the one for that of the other, viz. : left 

 the catnip to partake of the wild 

 parsnip, or vice versa. 



It has been many times asserted that 

 bees confine themselves to collecting 

 honey from the bloom of a single plant 

 at a time, and it is even further asserted 

 that should they not get enough from 

 this plant to fill the honey stomach, 

 they would go home and dispose of it 

 before changing to the nectar of another 

 plant. 



This theory, permit me here to say, I 

 consider an exploded one, for within a 

 few yards of my apiary I can take you 

 into my garden, where you will observe 

 three beds of plants contiguous to each 

 other, containing borage, mignonette 

 and portulacca (the latter yields but 

 little honey, but plenty of pollen), and 

 there you will see the bees leaving one 

 plant and collecting from each of the 

 others, probably returning to the first 

 plant before its storehouse is full. But 

 as this is a digression, let us return to 

 the main point in question. 



I cannot remember ever having seen 

 the wild parsnip credited with yielding 

 any honey to our bees, but in our ex- 

 tended domain, the honey flora of 

 which is so vast, and one old bee-periodi- 

 cal, in its reachings out for fact of this 

 nature, is so careful to note any change 

 of, or new pasturage for, our chosen 

 proteges, that I think I could scarcely 

 have passed by such a notation. 



The object in penning these observa- 

 tions is the hope that Prof. Cook, Mr. 

 Doolittle, or other attentive and careful 

 bee-keepers, will post us as to facts in 

 the case. 



Is it general that bees collect honey 

 from this source ? If so, how much ? 

 and of what quality, color and flavor? etc. 



We have had so much wet weather, 

 and such cold nights and mornings, that 



our surplus from white clover and 

 linden bloom will be very much curtailed, 

 but I am glad to state that we had an 

 immense yield from the fruit-bloom, the 

 locust and blackberry blooms— from the 

 latter two sources it has never before 

 been so abundant. 

 Beaver, Pa., July 12, 1891. 



Bee-Keening liy a MmU Novice. 



J. S. D. 



Two years ago Mrs. D. read a great 

 deal of bee literature, and came to the 

 conclusion that there was money in bee- 

 culture ; so we bought a Noah's ark, 

 with a colony of bees in it. There may 

 be some way to get into the ark, but 

 only a bee can find it. 



We placed the thing in the back yard, 

 and waited for developments. The bees 

 kept flying in and out with their hind 

 legs all dusty ; so I said to myself, 

 "There must be honey in the upper 

 story," and I removed the mansard roof 

 to take a peep. I did not see much, but 

 the bees saw me one better. I managed 

 to replace the attic upon the upper story, 

 and departed— sadder, but no wiser. 



Mrs. D. looked through the library, 

 consulted manuals, and suggested that 

 a smoker was just the instrument 

 needed, while I was strong in the con- 

 viction that these particular bees 

 belonged to the Southern Confederacy, 

 and only wanted to be let alone. But 

 ladies, you know, always have their way. 

 So a Bingham was bought, the directions 

 read, and the fire kindled. 



After wrapping four yards of musquito 

 netting over my head, and steaming up 

 the smoker, I approached the hive, 

 blowing smoke around like a Mississippi 

 steamboat, stuck on a sand-bar. I 

 smoked them below, took off the man- 

 sard, smoked them above, and carefully 

 examined the glass conservatory under 

 the roof, but found no honey. Mrs. D. 

 said, " I told you so-; you never find 

 honey until the white clover comes." 



We did not bother the ark after that 

 oftener than four times a week, but 

 always found the glass parlor decidedly 

 empty. Having friends visiting I was 

 good, so went to church one fine Sunday 

 in June, leaving the son and heir at 

 home with grandma. The first greeting 

 after the garden gate was passed was, 

 "Papa, the bees are swarming." So 

 they were — the air was full of them. I 

 immediately inquired for the dish-pan, a 

 hammer, a pair of tongs, and two or 



