A YEAR AMONG THE EEES. 
61 
apiary and saw what looked like a swarm. The bees had 
become excited over their new-found stores ; the robber bees 
had joined in and the bees seemed to think forage was so 
plentiful, that it wasn’t worth while to be mean about it, 
there was enough for all ; so the robbers were doing a land- 
office business without let or hindrance. I closed the 
entrances of the other hives in the immediate neighborhood, 
so that only two or three bees could pass at a time, and then 
threw a lot of loose, wet hay at the entrance of the besieged 
hive. For some time I kept every thing very wet all around 
the hive by pouring on pails of water, and then left them 
till next day. 
No other hives were attacked. I somewhat expected to 
find the queen killed, but she was all right next day, and no 
further trouble occurred, as the colony was a strong one, and 
when in its right mind, capable of taking care of itself. 
I make it a rule to stop operations usually when robbers 
are very bad, but sometimes it seems necessary to fight it 
out. I have often taken advantage of the plan of making 
cross bees or robbers lose themselves, or rather lose the 
object they are after by rapidly changing the base of opera- 
tion. One day at the Wilson apiary I had taken off some 
wide frames of sections and wanted to take them from the 
place where they were piled up, so as to put them on the 
wagon. The robbers were so tierce and persistent that it 
seemed impossible to open a crack without their immediate- 
ly forcing their way in. My wife was provided with a smoker 
in full blast, and a big bunch of goldenrod or other weeds. 
A robber cloth covered the pile. With one hand I lifted the 
cloth and with the other took out a frame of sections, then 
quickly dropped the robber cloth in its place, my wife keep- 
ing a cloud of smoke in the way of any robbers which should 
attempt to enter the pile while the cloth was raised. In- 
stantly the frame was out of the super, the robbers made for 
the frame of sections, I made for the wagon and my wife 
made for me. Running in a zig-zag, circuitous course, my 
wife followed me, puffing and switching at every step, and by 
