252 



fMARCH 1908. 



APICULTURE. 



RESCUING BEES. 



By the Rev. J. G. Digges, m.a., 

 Editor, "Irish Bee Journal." 



In the Emerald Isle modern methods 

 of beekeeping have made great headway 

 within the past few years. But it cannot 

 be said that the cruel, wasteful practices 

 of old times have altogether disappeared. 

 In some districts hives with movable 

 combs are still unknown, skeps and 

 grocers' boxes are the fashion in bee 

 hives, hammer and tongs are brought to 

 bear upon rising swarms ; and when 

 autumn comes the unfortunate queen and 

 workers who have been strong and dili- 

 gent enough to gather a weighty harvest 

 of honey, are ruthlessly smothered in 

 sulphur fumes. Not infrequently, when 

 the reckless slayer of bees is told of a 

 better way by which honey can be taken 

 without destruction of the stocks, he s 

 neers atthesel"new-f angled ideas," prefers 

 to follow his own plan, and says, in effect— 

 "It was ray father's custom, 

 And so it shall be mine. ; ' 

 Of course this antiquated custom of 

 '•taking up "the hives, preparatory to 

 putting them down in the sulphur pit, 

 has its advantages for beekeepers who 

 are familiar with the process of "driv- 

 ing " bees from a full to an empty skep. 

 They can often effect a purchase of con- 

 demned stocks at a shilling each ; and if 

 such stocks are taken early in autumn, 

 and are united and well treated before 

 winter sets in, they will generally give 

 a good account of themselves in the 

 following season. At the same time a 

 practical lesson will have been offered to 

 the skeppist who, having seen the ease 

 with which the operation can be carried 

 through, will be less likely to allow 

 reverence for his "father's custom "to 

 deprive him in future years, to the 

 enrichment of his more enterprising 

 neighbours. 



It is the boast of modern bee-keeping 

 that it follows humane principles. With 

 the arrival of the season in which 

 skeppists begin to plot the destruction 

 ofjtheir stocks, I was pleased to receive 

 from a priest in the west of Ireland the 

 following description of his plan for 

 upholding the credit of modern metnod3 

 as against the barbarous custom referred 

 to above. The letter and illustration 

 may prove interesting to readers of the 

 Studley College Agricultural Journal, 

 and may encourage others to become 

 rescuers of bees ; for I think that even 

 in Great Britain the horrors of the 

 sulphur pit are not altogether unknown. 

 He writes : — 



"Of late I have been cleaning and 

 burnishing up my hives, inside and 



outside. I am pleased to be able to 

 say that the one that has stood the 

 winter best, and looks like being 

 my champion one for the summer, is 

 that whose inmatesj saved from dire 

 destruction last autumn in the fashion 

 suggested by the accompanying photo- 

 graph. [Not reproduced.] It was an act 

 of charity and of mercy, which, I will 

 allow, is not to my discredit, 1 



"These bees belong to an old-fashioned, 

 conservative beekeeper, some half-a- 

 dozen miles off. During the season they 

 had laboured hard for him, and had 

 gathered, he knew, far and away more 

 honey than any of his four or five other 

 stocks. He knew it by the weight of the 

 skep, for he tore all of them up, getting, 

 I am not a bit sorry to say, numberless 

 splendid jags at each operation. And 

 these poor doomed bees, his very best, 

 were to have as their portion, in return 

 for their toil and industry late and early 

 in the long summer, and as a reward for 

 their brave, well spent-lives — fire and 

 brimstone ! 



"But we made a bargain. He got all 

 he wanted — the honey, and what he 

 liked— no trouble and no stings in the 

 getting of it. I got the bees and the loan 

 of a table-cloth and of an old skep, and 

 a beautiful cup of tea, I must add, from 

 ' herself,' into the bargain. In the driv- 

 ing from the honey-laden into the empty 

 skep there was, of course, no difficulty. 

 As well as I can remember, I was not 

 stung once. Then I tied the skep on the 

 back of the bicycle, behind the saddle, 

 as shown ; my black rain cloak fluttered 

 over the linen tablecloth, making it less 

 of a conspicuous circus display. Then 

 up and off. The small boys did not re- 

 mark it. in the grey of a fine autumn 

 evening, when of all other times they 

 are particularly en evidence. I sailed 

 leisurely down the main street ot the 

 little town. The rescued bees I wintered 

 on three frames loaded with capped 

 honey, and I made them as comfortable 

 as you please in their new quarters. 

 They were out once more in the 

 spring, buzzing about, long before the 

 cuckoo or the corncrake, 



" As to swarms, I have carried several 

 in the same safe, if outlandish, fashion. 

 Distance is no consideration. To the 

 bicyclist just learning to ride—if in this 

 twentieth century there be any such— 

 the plan is hardly to be commended. To 

 get on and off is something of a circus 

 feat. Once on and away, they give no 

 further bother. But they keep up a 

 gentle murmur of approval, which soon 

 lulls to forgetf ulness, and on meeting a 

 friend, and suddenly dismounting, or 

 trying to, as usual, he is apt to ' come a 



