254 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
[July, 
Among the Farmers.— No. 6. 
BY ONE OP THEM. 
Since I have lived in this County, though we have 
had early and late seasons—some very early and 
very late—nevertheless the apple trees have every 
year been in full blossom in the week including the 
15th day of May—and after this, unless storms put 
back farm work, nobody thinks whether the season 
is early or late. The Indians used to plant com as 
soon as the white oak leaves were “as big as a 
squirrel’s ears.” This occurs just before apple¬ 
blossoming time, and at just about the time we con¬ 
sider it best to begin with our corn planting-. In 
this County there is a great dependence placed upon 
moonshine—I fancy it is rather a weak stall to lean 
upon, yet it is very hard to prove there is not some 
influence exercised by the moon upon seeds. I can 
only say that I have perversely and systematically 
gone, for the past ten years, exactly contrary to the 
“ signs ” of all kinds, so far as I could learn them, 
and have never seen any evil effects from it. 
How Weeds are affected l>y tlie Winter. 
The battle with the weeds is waged early and late, 
or it ought to be. If we could only manage not to 
have weeds go to seed, how easy it would be to fight 
and to conquer. I have often noticed with what 
facility we can uproot grass, and many fibrous root¬ 
ed weeds in the early spring when the frost is com¬ 
ing out. My attention was called lately to this fact, 
and in connection with it, to the fact that all that 
large class of weeds which propagate themselves by 
underground stems or branches, like quack-grass, 
red sorrel, white clover, etc., during the winter lose 
their underground branches, as well as also many 
or most of their fibrous roots, so that if the moth¬ 
er-plant be cut up, or pulled up, there are none of 
the family left in the soil. Whereas, if the same be 
done in summer, a score or less of young plants, 
surrounding the old stool, spring up, and complete 
destraction is nearly impossible. Red sorrel, if ex¬ 
amined in the early spring, will be found to have 
comparatively few roots, and these may be raked or 
pulled out with the plant. After a week or so of 
sunshine, little white buds will be fouud showing 
all along the principal roots, and the rootlets will 
exhibit all the appearances of growth, having in¬ 
creased in numbers, and laid hold upon the soil by 
a multitude of fibers. Now it is too late to do 
thorough weeding. The little white buds will each 
form a plant as surely as the root is broken. Where 
such weeds occur, the more “summer fallowing,” 
(by which I mean plowing or tilling to kill weeds,) 
we do in March the better. 
Clean cultivation of small fruits of all kinds is 
the stereotyped recommendation of all who write 
about them. Some years ago I saw a venerable old 
farmer of our neighborhood, whose ancestors, no 
doubt, were the associates of Worter Van Twiller 
and Rip Van Winkle, grubbing out his raspberry 
patch on a warm winter’s day, when the ground 
was soft as possible to the depth of two inches, 
perhaps. The common sense of the thing flashed 
upon me. With a clean bright hoe, the work is 
very light, for the tool cannot go more than two 
inches into the ground, if even so much; the grass 
around and among the stalks can be thoroughly re¬ 
moved, and the earth that is drawn away from the 
plants is only that which the plow or cultivator 
throws back again, and which, without dressing off 
with the hoe, accumulates too much. This prac¬ 
tice combines, with its other advantages, the one to 
which I have just alluded, that of destroying with 
the mother-stool all the sucklings. The only ob¬ 
jection to it is that the feet are very uncomfortably 
loaded with mud, and need to ba shod with rubbers. 
When to prune Apple Trees. 
I have found it difficult to convince my hired 
men that March, when there is little other work on 
hand, and when the days are not so cold as earlier, 
is not the best time to prune apple trees, and noth¬ 
ing would stop it but an absolute command that no 
limb bigger round than one’s thumb should be cut 
off after the middle of February. A year ago last 
March, as a man and I were driving, I saw a neigh¬ 
bor sawing off some good sized limbs from his ap¬ 
ple trees, which stood near the road. “ There,” 
said I, “ Christian, take a look at those scars where 
the limbs are cut off, and a year from now you will 
see the bark black all around the edges, and a long 
streak of black and dead, or half-dead, bark run¬ 
ning down from each one for a foot or two, and 
within two or three years the wood will be rotten, 
and at every scar there will be the beginning of a 
hole into the tree.” This year there is no question 
about the time to pruue—and I have one convert to 
the doctrine that apple trees are best let alone for 
three months before they blossom, and that they 
may be pruned at any other time of the year—for 
the prediction came as true as was possible. There 
they stand, a nice row of young apple trees—each 
one with a canker spot, or two or three of them, 
eating into its heart. They are not alone—there 
are a plenty of them all over the country, and no 
matter how often the papers and books say “ prune 
after the leaves fall,” or “ do not prune in the 
spring,” the old fogies will do it in their own way. 
Cheap Fencing for Woodland. 
We are troubled hereabouts with laborers who 
cannot swing an ax to good account, the result is 
that nobody who has to employ them can afford to 
make post-and-rail fence unless he does it himself. 
Where there is a plenty of young timber, especially 
chestnut and cedar, we find the cheapest and best 
fence that we can have is what is called the “ gun 
fence.” These are common all over the country— 
but perhaps few have discovered that it is the only 
fence that a greenhorn immigrant can build well. 
The stakes should be made of split chestnut, or of 
young cedars, about three inches through at the 
small end. I saw this kind of fence in use in 
Eastern Connecticut along a railroad. It was where 
the road ran through some young timber, and part 
of the way the ground was quite rocky, so that the 
stakes could not be driven into it—here a cross¬ 
piece was nailed to the stakes near the ground, 
holding them together. This fence was made of 
rather heavy stuff, but no doubt it was put up at a 
much less expense than either a post-and-rail or 
strip fence. The latter requires to be made by 
skilled workmen, and there is a necessity to pur¬ 
chase the strips and posts, or to have the timber 
cut, hauled to the sawmill, and hauled back again 
—while the gun-fence, as already said, can be made 
by any laborer who can cut down a “ staddle,” and 
split one now and then. The principal use made of 
this kind of fence is through swampy land where 
posts do not hold well. I never heard of a gun- 
fence blowing over, but where the winds have a 
fair sweep, post-and-rail fences are very unstable 
upon soft ground. For the information of those 
who may possibly be unfamiliar with this fence, let 
me say that a gun-fence is a three-rail fence, the 
rails not sharpened, one end of each resting on the 
ground, and each rail supported at its upper third 
upon two stakes driven into the ground in the form 
of an X:—thus, if the rails are 12 feet long, the 
crossed stakes will stand about 4 feet apart, and 
not only hold one rail up, but hold the one beneath 
it down, 
Hoop-poles—'Timber Cull ure. 
In writing about timber, I am reminded of the 
great losses our woodland, that is not carefully 
guarded, and that is conveniently situated, sustains 
every year, from the depredations of the hoop-pole 
thieves. My woods are full of hickory and oak 
poles cut and left, because for some cause the 
thieves could not get them away. Probably they 
were cut in the expection of a fall of snow which 
did not come. These depredators come on moon¬ 
light nights, and very early in the morning in the 
winter. We have severe laws, but it is next to im¬ 
possible to catch the thieves. Then, too, they are 
shielded by political or other influences, so that 
conviction and punishment are absurdly rare. 
The cure for this state of things is the cultivation 
of our forests. If trees were planted and cared for, 
and thinned out systematically for hoop-poles, the 
value of the woodland would become appreciated, 
and we would take measures to stop this thieving 
as much as \>e would the stealing of corn out of 
the crib. It is because our timber does not repre¬ 
sent the result of labor, but is a natural product, 
that so little account is made of it in estimating the 
value of land. It is no uncommon thing to know 
of land, heavily timbered, selling for less than the 
wood upon it is worth. It is not long ago that I 
heard of a piece of land being sold, in an adjoining 
county, when the buyer at once sold the standing 
timber, the whole to be cleared within the year, for 
more than he paid for the land. This shows 
something thoroughly wrong in our estimates of 
values. I do not think the market price of wood 
would rise essentially, but the woodland owner 
would get a much larger proportion of its market 
price than he now does. In timber culture here at 
the East, at least, hoop-poles are sure to be a source 
of great profit. 
Dead-furrows in Grass-land. 
The plowing-match which was held by the Queen’s 
Co. Agricultural Societv last year, caused among 
the few farmers who were present a good deal of 
discussion about plowing. Swivel-plows for level 
land plowing were talked about. Several of us had 
had some experience with them, and were ready to 
give opinions pro and con. It is a very nice thing, 
no doubt, to have one’s field free from dead-fur¬ 
rows and ridges, but it is nicer to hold a plow that 
runs smoothly, and docs the work exactly as you 
want it done. When a man once has a plow that 
suits him, he will not be likely to exchange it for 
the best swivel-plow that was ever made. The 
plowman has harder work, the horses have harder 
work, and it is not nearly so rapid as with a fixed 
plow. Just before the time I allude to, I learned a 
practice which, when put to the test, is most satis¬ 
factory. When laying down land to grain and 
grass, where the dead-furrows come, turn two on 
each side into the dead furrow. This effectually 
hides the trench, however deep it may be. If ab¬ 
solutely perfect work is required, then turn three 
furrows back again, taking but very little at the 
third. When harrowed, no evidence of the dead- 
furrow is apparent. I have been a strenuous advo¬ 
cate of the use of swivel or side-hill plows for level 
land, and still think no other plow ought to come 
into gardens and other small lots, but the difference 
in the cost of labor, (even if estimated only in oats 
fed to the horses,) is so palpable that I have noth¬ 
ing to say now on my once favorite theme. 
Bees—Wasted Sweets. 
Why is it that we have no more bees ? Hives 
are as nearly perfect as human ingenuity can make 
them. The loss of swarms may be almost entirely 
prevented by a little care. Forage for bees abounds, 
and acres of honey are hardly sipped. I see the 
number of hives of those few who do keep bees, 
does not sensibly increase from year to year. Honey 
is 18 to 20 cents a pound, and hard to get at that. 
I do not keep bees now, and have not since moving 
into this County. The reason is, I can not buy a 
stock of any of my neighbors who keep them; I 
have only recently learnd the reason. Some kind, 
or all kinds of bad luck, is believed to follow the 
sale of bees. So for this reason they can’t bo 
bought. For the same reason, no doubt—lest the 
bees become offended, and work some subtle in¬ 
jury—the little workers are kept thoroughly in¬ 
formed of the more important events which take 
place in the family. “Bees! Becky’s dead—poor 
girl 1 She came and told you when Grand-pa died, 
but she’s gone now.” Or—“ Bees, we had a baby 
born this morning. Tou’ll see him running round 
next year if he does well.”—What wonder that the 
apparently supernatural, or superhuman intelli¬ 
gence of the bees, should lead the superstitious to 
consider them endowned with reason, and perhaps 
with the ability to exercise some mysterious influ¬ 
ence in human affairs. Argument is useless. So 
the bargain takes this form. “Well, neighbor, 
since you won’t sell your bee6, and I must have 
some, what’s to be done?”—“Well, but thafs 
your matter.”—“Yes, and I shall steal a couple of 
hives if I can find some good heavy ones. So if you 
find a five dollar bill under a stone on the stands, 
you may think there were honest thieves around, 
that’s all.”—“No, no, you mustn’t steal’em—but 
if you have to, ’twill be all right, I guess.”—So the 
bees are taken off. By the way, it is hardly safe to 
move bees to a less distance than three miles. Five 
