WHERE THE BEE SUCKS 221 



But here we do her an injustice : a pure-bred 

 Italian worlcer-bee is as good or as bad tempered 

 as any other of her species. It is the first crosses 

 with the native bee which display so much vin- 

 dictive aggressiveness, and have given to the 

 whole race its general bad name. 



In the time of the great honey-flow — which in 

 southern England begins in May, early or late, 

 according to the season, and may endure for six 

 weeks — it is a common thing in the country to 

 see people turn back from the footpaths, running 

 through the white-clover or sainfoin fields, because 

 of the huge and terrifying uproar made by the 

 foraging bees. When there is a large acreage 

 under these crops, and the day is a fair one, this 

 note reaches a volume hardly to be credited as a 

 sound of work and peace. It is much more like 

 the din of a great bee-war, and it is small wonder 

 that the stranger, unlearned in the ways of the 

 hives, should fear to go through what is very like 

 a scene of battle and carnage. 



And yet there is no time of year when the 

 honey-bee is so little inclined to molest her human 

 fellow-creatures as this. So long as the honey- 

 weather holds — the warm nights when the nectar 

 is secreted, and the rainless days when it can be 

 gathered — she can hardly be induced to attack, 

 even if her home is being turned inside out, and 

 the sudden sunlight riddling its darkness through 

 and through. 



