1918 



AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL 



411 



values decline perceptibly in locali- 

 ties where they become established. 



In the orange groves, along the 

 lower Mississippi, in Louisiana, the 

 damage has been especially serious. 

 Following their introduction there 

 was a rapid increase in scale insects. 

 Within a year the effect can be seen 

 on the orchards, within two years 

 they are seriously injured and usually 

 the third or fourth year they are 

 ruined. 



It is the effect upon the beekeeper, 

 however, which is of first interest 

 here. Fortunately, beehives, unlike 

 orange trees, can be placed beyond 

 the reach of the intruders. In most 

 infested localities, as yet, it is possi- 

 ble by moving the apiary a short dis- 

 tance to find a spot free from an- 

 noyance, although the time may come 

 when that is impossible. During the 

 time of service as secretary of the 

 Louisiana crop pest commission, Wil- 

 mon Newell made an extended study 

 of the relation of the Argentine ant 

 to beekeeping and other similar lines. 

 Concerning the effect on bees we 

 quote him as follows: 



"The keeping of bees is well nigh 

 impossible in sections heavily infest- 

 ed by the Argentine ant. . . . The 

 Argentine ants are not only exceed- 

 ingly fond of honey, but they attack 

 the bee larvae in the cells with a fero- 

 city that is amazing. Thousands upon 

 thousands of the ants will enter the 

 hive, carrying away honey and at- 

 tacking the larvae. The bees them- 

 selves are unable to cope with such 

 small enemies ... In a few hours 

 after the attack has commenced the 

 bees become thoroughly disorganized 

 and give up further defense, some- 

 times swarming out as a last resort. 

 At such times the normal hum of the 

 hive gives place to an entirely differ- 

 ent note, which the experienced bee- 

 keeper will recognize as that of dis- 

 tress. 



The difficulties of extracting and 

 handling honey in the presence of 

 these pests can be readily imagined. 

 In order to extract, we first scrubbed 

 the floor of the building, using_ copi- 

 ous amounts of carbolic acid in 

 water. The foundations of the build- 



ing and a space about a foot wide 

 around the building were then 

 sprayed with crude oil. The extrac- 

 tor, as well as the uncapping can, 

 were placed in a large tray contain- 

 ing several inches of water. When 

 all these preparations were complete, 

 the supers were taken from the hives, 

 and as fast as brought in were 

 stacked on tables the legs of which 

 were wound with corrosive sublimate 

 ant tape. Extracting was done as 

 expeditiously as possible, but with all 

 our pains the ants were all over 

 everything before we could extract 

 and bottle three or four hundred 

 pounds of honey. Even our clothing 

 was teeming with the workers, and 

 all human effort was helpless to keep 

 them out of the honey." 



About the only method of keeping 

 bees in the infested regions is by 

 means of placing them on hive stands 

 with the legs in oil or some other 

 repellant that prevents the ants from 

 reaching them. In Newell's bulletin 

 the following plan is described as 

 successful : 



"Blocks of wood are obtained, on 

 which the legs of the bee-stand rest. 

 Then the cover of a lard can or other 

 tin box sufficiently wide when placed 

 in an inverted position on top of the 

 blocks will overlap the blocks of 

 wood on all sides. A paste consist- 

 ing of vaseline mixed with kerosene 

 and red pepper is then spread thinly 

 over the inside of the can or cover, 

 and the ants will never be able to 

 reach the legs of the stand and gain 

 access to the hives. An advantage 

 of this method is that the paste need 

 not be renewed more than every year 

 or two, and being protected from the 

 weather it cannot be washed off." 



It is quite possible to care for a 

 few colonies of bees in some such 

 way, but commercial beekeeping be- 

 comes unprofitable under such condi- 

 tions and the best thing for the bee- 

 keeper is to seek a more favorable 

 situation for his apiary. It may not 

 be necessary for him to move them 

 more than a few miles at first, and as 

 the ants spread slowly he may not be 

 again disturbed for years. 



My Neighbor's Garden 



By C. D. Stuart 



"y^UESTS for luncheon and not 



I j an egg in the house!" The 



v -^ Magic Girl's voice, full of 

 trouble, came floating across the 

 gulch. 



"Two miles to the nearest grocer," 

 I groaned, and bent lower over an 

 open beehive without replying. 



But the call was repeated. With a 

 reluctant "Coming!" I replaced the 

 hive cover, jumped over the dry 

 creek bed and climbed to the road 

 that curved round the base of the 

 steep wooded hill. A sedate white 

 hen eyed me curiously, picked her 

 way to the other side of the road and 

 disappearjd in the shrubbery. The 

 years rolled back. I was just a boy 

 again on track of a stolen nest. No 

 scruples deterred me, for was I not 

 expected to furnish eggs for guests? 



The hen pursued a zigzag course as 

 though to throw me off her trail; but 

 I easily followed the rustling of 

 leaves as she scrambled up the hill- 

 side. A few moments later we 

 emerged in a tiny open space where- 

 on perched a house that resembled 

 nothing so much as an overgrown 

 beehive. Other white hens were 

 walking nonchalantly about, and thus 

 the chase came to a prosaic end in a 

 neighbor's poultry yard, the exist- 

 ence of which an hour earlier I had 

 never even dreamed. I had just de- 

 cided to acquire the eggs by honora- 

 ble negotiation, when I was accosted 

 by my neighbor herself. 



"Are you the beeman?" she asked, 

 without preliminaries. 



Taken unawares, I blurted out the 

 truth. But afterward I comforted 

 myself that while wearing bee veil 

 and gloves and with the end of the 

 hive tool in plain view above my hip 

 pocket, a denial would have been use- 

 less, anyway. Besides, she hadn't 

 given me time to deny anything, but 

 ordered me to come and see what my 

 bees were doing. 



Prepared for the worst, I meekly 

 followed. Round the corner of the 

 house the air was thick with my 

 honey-gatherers. 



"Robbing!" I gasped. 



"No, they're only thirsty, poor 

 dears," chirped the old lady. 



The suspense over, I felt weak and 

 started to sit down. 



"Not there I" my neighbor warned 

 me, and gently lifted from the porch 

 a dripping doormat covered with 

 bees sucking the moisture from its 

 fibrous surface. 



"How long have they been bother- 

 ing you?" I asked. 



"They don't bother me," she de- 

 clared. "I made up my mind when I 

 saw them trying to get water after 

 we had the cold snap in February, 

 always to have it handy for them. 



For brood rearing, of course ! 

 Strange I hadn't thought of it. I 

 remembered now the bee books do 

 say that water is necessary for di- 

 luting honey fed to young larva?, and 

 also for moistening the pollen. 



"I had a picture made of that 

 frozen hydrant to send east," she 

 continued. Folks back there can't 



