A YEAR'S WORK IN AN OUT-APIARY 11 



above tell the bees from the start, "This is our storehouse," and there Is 

 room enough in it to hold from 60 to 75 pounds of surplus, above what 

 was in the hive when I closed it. With a good flow from fruit-bloom 

 or any other source, just at this time, together with the honey that we 

 had allowed them at our former visit, had they been kept in the lower 

 hive, with no sections put on, would come a material lessening of our 

 prospect of a surplus from clover and basswood, either from forcing 

 them to swarm prematurely or the crowding of the queen, by filling the 

 cells with honey, which should be occupied with brood. Elisha Gallup 

 was right when he told us, years ago, that such would be the case where 

 a large surplus was obtained early in the season, from robbing or any 

 other source, which filled the combs with honey before they were fully 

 occupied with brood. 



As now fixed, brood-rearing goes on "swimmingly," with no desire 

 for swarming, and this is just what is desirable at any out-apiary (or 

 home yard also) worked for comb honey. The entrances to all hives but 

 the weaker ones are "thrown wide open," while these are given as large 

 an entrance as the stronger ones had at the last visit before this. The 

 "dooryard" boards are fixed so that the grass will not "swamp" the hives 

 or hinder the bees' flight before' my next visit, and I am off for home. 

 The work part, as given here, is what I did at the third visit. 



CHAPTER IV. 



HOW TO CONTROL SWAEMS WHEN RUNNING FOR COIIB HONEY. 



It is now the 16th of June, many heads on the white clover are fully 

 in bloom, while the black locust, from which the bees obtained quite a 

 little honey, has just gone, and two of my bee-keeping neighbors report 

 "swarming commenced." Half past three o'clock a.m. finds me in my 

 auto, with the scythe done up in a blanket (to keep it from cutting and 

 marring something it was not intended for), occupying the "other seat." 

 Those who have never ridden in an auto at the "peep o' day" can not 

 even imagine my delight that morning. Birds were singing from every 

 branch, the barnyard fowls were out after the "early worm," while now 

 and then the smoke from the chimney of an early, enterprising farmer 

 was rising up in wavy circles as it ascended toward heaven. The eastern 

 sky soon became all aglow with its "gold and carmine," telling of the 

 advancing sun, while the cattle and sheep on a "thousand hills" were se- 

 curing their morning repast from the grass made so pleasant and pal- 

 atable from the "dew of the morning." When nearing the apiary, a jolly, 

 fun-loving farmer, who had "just pulled out" for his cows, accosted me, 

 while pointing at the wrapped-up scythe, with, "Taking the sick one in 

 your ambulance to the hospital?" "Yes," I replied, without stopping, as 

 every moment was precious, if I was to get the bee-yard mown before the 

 bees got "waked up" by the rising sun. 



Arriving, the scythe was hastily unwrapped, and, going to the front 

 or south side of row No. 1 (hives face south, rows run east and west), I 



