4 o 
FOLLOWING THE BEE LINE 
but torn out of the bee’s body and left in the wound 
with poison sacs attached. . . . There is a cer¬ 
tain satisfaction in knowing that the bee dies soon 
after stinging. 
If the sting is not promptly removed, the smell of 
formic acid left on one’s hand tends to excite and 
anger the other bees. Yet, if it is grasped and pulled 
out as one would a thorn, more poison is pressed 
down through the sting from the poison sacs. 
When quickly scraped out, however, the average 
sting is negligible. 
I myself usually wear a bee-veil of black mosquito 
netting over my face—just to avoid risks. But if 
the bees I am to handle are of a gentle strain, I often 
go without it. 
No full-fledged beekeeper ever wears gloves! The 
best are too clumsy, for the beekeeper must use his 
fingers precisely and delicately. Who, with gloves 
on, can catch a queen bee by her wings and cut off 
one wing to prevent a colony from swarming? 
I have worn gloves—but only when I especially 
wanted to keep my hands clean—for bits of wax will 
stick tight in hot weather and beekeepers’ families 
know full well the feeling of sticky door knobs; a 
stickiness that may, or may not, mean honey for 
breakfast the next morning. 
