u6 Wild Life in a Southern County 



not so much with his hands as his eyes, watching that the 

 ' wallows ' may be turned over properly, and the ' wakes ' 

 made at a just distance from each other, that the waggon 

 may pass easily between, the farmer is sure to be sum- 

 moned home with the news of a swarm of bees. If the 

 work be pressing, they must be attended to by deputy ; if 

 not, he hurries home himself; for although in these days 

 bee-keeping is no longer what it used to be, yet the old- 

 fashioned folk take a deep interest in the bees still. They 

 tell you that ' a swarm in May is worth a load of hay ; a 

 swarm in June is worth a silver spoon ; but a swarm in 

 July is not worth a fly ' — for it is then too late for the 

 young colony to store up a treasure of golden honey before 

 the flowers begin to fade at the approach of autumn. 



It is noticeable that those who labour on their own 

 land (as at Wick) keep up the ancient customs much more 

 vigorously than the tenant who knows that he is liable to 

 receive a notice to quit. And farms, for one reason or 

 another, change tenants much more frequently now than 

 they used to do. Here at Wick the owner feels that 

 every apple tree he grafts, every flower he plants, returns 

 not only a money value, but a joy not to be measured by 

 money. So the bees are carefully watched and tended, as 

 the blue tomtits find to their cost if they become too 

 venturesome. 



These bold little bandits will sometimes make a dash 

 for the hive, alighting on the miniature platform before 

 the entrance, and playing havoc with the busy inmates. 

 If alarmed they take refuge in the apple trees, as if con- 

 scious that the owner will not shoot them there, since 

 every pellet may destroy potential fruit by cutting and 

 breaking those tender twigs on which it would presently 

 grow. It is a pleasant sight in autumn to see the room 



