246 



JOURNAL OF HOETIGULTUKE AND COTTAGE GARDENEE. 



[ March 30, 1871. 



of two or more compartments they should be connected by a 

 moveable partition, or a circular hole which can be closed at 

 will by a door suspended in front. This arrangement will 

 admit of your running one cock with two hens. Keep him with 

 the first till she goes to nest and lays at least her first egg, 

 when you can pass him through to the other. By the time 

 No. 2 has built and laid her eggs the first hen will be about 

 chipping. But there will be time enough to talk about this 

 next week, by which time I daresay some will have eggs. Till 

 then feed on a mixture of Canary, summer rape, linseed, and 

 a little hempseed, giving a teaspoenful of chopped hard-boiled 

 egg and bread crumbs every morning. Supply such green food 

 as may be ia season — cbickweed, groundsel, watercress, or 

 letlnoe. — W. A. Blakston. 



THE BUSTARD. 



OuE friend "Wiltshire Bectok" has given us gome account 

 of the capture of the specimen belonging to the Eev. G. T. 

 Marsh. Possibly some account of the recent captures may 

 interest some of your readers. 



As the story is told in our little Wiltshire town, three of 

 these birds were seen on Salisbury Plain, also by a boy, who 

 was "bird-tending." He, seeing such large game, loaded his 

 old gun with a marble, and made a random shot at the trio at 

 some 130 or 140 yards distance, wounding one of the smaller 

 birds, which he captured. This bird is at the present time in 

 oar little town, being set up by our local bird-stuffer, King by 

 name, and by nature in his art, having few equals. The speci- 

 men is not much damaged, and a little time since formed one 

 of our local ' ' lions," if it be possible that a bird can aver make 

 a quadruped. 



The remaining pair of birds were descried by a gentleman in 

 the neighbourhood of the Plain with a telescope, and a party 

 made to capture them. Fortunately for bird No. 3, the pair 

 came within gunshot of the only single barrel of the party, and 

 one thus escaped ; the other paid the penalty to the single 

 barrel. — Y. B. A. Z., Warminster. 



A JUST REMONSTEANCE BY THE WIFE OF 



A CANARY FANCIER. 



Mb. Editoe, 

 Sir, I There has been such a stir | and such a commotion | 

 with this new-fangled notion, | that I really don't know | what 

 on earth I shall do. | Birds are all very well | to rear or to 

 sell I in a moderate way, | but these mad schemes don't pay. | 

 I've talked till I'm hoarse, | and just made matters worse ; | so 

 at last I decided | if in you I confided | (for of course you 're 

 A.l), I the thing might be done. | You'renotto take what I say | 

 cum grano sails : Nay, nay ! | 'Tis true every whit, | I'm not 

 romancing a bit. | If I want a new dress, | and my wishes con- 

 fess, I it's "Haven't you heard? | I've bought such a grand 



bird; | a magnificent crest | and ;" you guess the rest. | 



If I venture to say | " It's such a fine day, | we might go for a 

 walk." I " My dear, how you talk ! | I've John Young to see ; | 

 and if I'm not there to tea, | or at least before school, | I shan't 

 see his clean Mule." | He did once say " Yes," ] and I ran off 

 to dress, | thinking, " What a rare treat | to stroll down the 

 High Street ! | I'll perhaps get a bonnet | with a nice feather 

 on it." I But when I walked down | in my very best gown, j he 

 said, (wasn't it mean?) | " Now we'll go to the Dene ; | the birds 

 want some fresh moss." | I declare I felt cross. | If I go soon 

 to bed I to recruit a sick head, | my lord's sure to come | with 

 some new " wonder " home ; | and he tears up the stair j with a 

 rush of cold air. | "Bessie, are yon asleep? | Do just take a 

 peep ! I I'm sure you ne'er saw | such a beauty before !" | And 

 if ever I choose | in the morning to snooze, | if I'm not first 

 turned out | I'm aroused with a shout | in the voice of a Sten- 

 tor, I or some gruff old precentor, | "Percy,rnntothestation," | 

 (you'd think the whole nation | was rising, but no). | " Now 

 come, don't dawdle so, ] or the birds will be dead, | for they'll 

 want to be fed !" | If he stays in the house | I must sit like a 

 mouse, I for " the Judge " wants to write | or a letter indite. | 

 And if I dare speak, | the long silence to break, | " I've got an 

 idea, | just keep quiet and hear." | Or if I turn weary | of a 

 stillness so dreary, | and run off for a while, | 'twould make Mel- 

 pomene smile I to see him rush to the stairs. | " Ma, are there 

 two f's in affairs?" | or, what's still more absurd, | "Bessie, 

 what's that French word ? | I wish you'd stay here ; | you know 

 I want you, my dear." | And then, oh ! the washings, | the 

 soapings and splashings, { the ransacking of drawers, | against 



all wifely laws, | and (which he sees no sin in), | the waste of 

 good linen; | because, "You know, dear, | birds require so 

 much care ; | a bit of cambric's not much, | and it's soft to 

 the touch." I He raves about " feather," | and pros and cons 

 whether | he'll mate Buff' with Buff, | and all sorts of stuff. | 

 Then there's making of cages, | and such comic rages ] because 

 " Jack " borrows his tools, | or runs off with his rules ; | or his 

 nails are all done, | or his chalk line is gone ; | or his wood is 

 too wet, I or his saw isn't set ; | or his chisel's no edge, | or his 

 plane wants a wedge. | And such buying of brushes, | and such 

 frantic rushes | after whitewash and blue | as you never knew. | 

 Then think of his outings, | his judgings and routings. | Ho 

 never feels dull ; | his head's far too full | of all kiuds of things | 

 both without and with wings. | If his nose is pure Grecian | and 

 his profile patrician, | he need'nt have all | life's pleasures at 

 call. I Now without any joking, | isn't all this provoking? | 

 Don't you pity the wife | that leads such a strange life ? | I'm 

 always expected | to go out unprotected, | and never to frown | 

 when he " runs up " to town. | Bat when he next turns his 

 feet I to the house in Fleet Street, | if you'll just say a word | 

 (for I know you'll be heard), | to improve my hard case, | in my 

 prayers you'll find place; | and I shall evermore be | yours 

 most grateful — B. B. 



VENTILATION OF HIVES DURING WINTER. 



Is compliance with the request of "E. S.," in page 191, re- 

 garding the ventilation of hives during winter, I may say that 

 in practice it much resembles that which our leading horti- 

 culturists impress so much on amateurs and young gardeners 

 in the heating and ventilating of their greenhouses and 

 vineries. They must study the weather, and in a great measure 

 be able to foretell what is likely to occur during the next twelve 

 hours ; thus they are able to apportion with certainty the proper 

 amount of heat or ventilation : so also must we study the weather, 

 and so must we regulate our hives. 



As it is a description of my mode of ventilation that " E. S." 

 requests, and not the advantages derived from it, I will confine 

 myself principally to describing the former. In the first place, 

 therefore (and I hope he will, if I am wrong, pardon the sugges- 

 tion), I may review the case described by "E. S.," by cutting 

 small holes in the block of wood sufficient to prevent the egress 

 of bees, and opening a hole in the top only an inch in diameter. 

 In the case of a straw or even a wooden hive with a solid crown 

 it is possible that this supposed ventilation might actually have 

 been closed with comb and propolis, and so instead of a draught 

 being the means of killing the bees — as, when we take into con- 

 sideration the case of a hive being turned topsy-tnrvy, and re- 

 maining all night with the thermometer within one degree of 

 zero without receiving any harm, I am almost certain could 

 not have been the case — it must, in my opinion, have been a 

 ease of suffocation. The partial closing of the doorway, leaving 

 only the small holes in the block of wood, was, if I am correct, 

 the very worst policy to pursue. With the hole in the top 

 possibly closed (and if not, the milk pan and extra covering 

 were sufficient to prevent proper ventilation), the bees would 

 naturally come to the doorway, and in their endeavours to get 

 out would entirely close the entrance, and raise a general com- 

 motion. Nest would occur clusters of dead bees, and thus the 

 whole would become a total wreck. 



The great secret with regard to bees during snow, is to entirely 

 close the entrance, and ventilate at the top or back of the hive, 

 or both combined. I have my hives made with the doorway 

 running nearly the whole width of the hive ; this is regulated 

 by a slide, either to shut quite close or give a doorway nearly 

 the whole width. If I have any suspicions that the doorway 

 admits the least ray of light I cover it with a piece of cloth ; 

 then I ventilate according to the state of the weather and num- 

 ber of bees. The ventilators are placed at the back of the hive, 

 about li inch from the top, and are either sliding or revolving, 

 similar to the ventilators in kitchen ranges or those used under- 

 neath the floors of buildings ; they are holes bored in the hive 

 between every comb, and opposite these are holes bored in a 

 thin piece of wood covered with perforated zinc, which may be 

 either the whole width or less as required. The revolvingones 

 have one screw nail in the centre to turn upon, and the sliding 

 ones have two or three with small mortices cut out to allow 

 them to travel. Should I consider this too little ventilation, 

 my crown-board being all bar and slide, with the feeding place in 

 the centre, the latter being at all times covered with perforated 

 zinc, I have only to remove what stops the hole. If this is not 

 enough I run in one or more slides of perforated zinc in place 



