6 4 
FOLLOWING THE BEE LINE 
ward. Then within a short period of time I had 
several interesting bee experiences. 
I was wandering lazily one day in Palm Canyon, 
a strangely beautiful place filled with ancient, lofty 
palms, near Palm Springs. 
Turning up a little-used trail under the shadow 
of a cliff, I stopped abruptly, arrested by a familiar 
sound in the air over my head. There was no mis¬ 
taking it. It was bees! I looked about and traced 
them by sound to a cleft in the rocks above. Yes, 
sure enough, there they were, thousands of them, 
flying in and out, working as only bees work when 
gathering a great harvest. Their combs were partly 
distinguishable in the dark crevice. 
I had seen bee establishments in many hollow “bee 
trees,” and taken out bees and comb many times, 
but never before had I seen them living in that sort 
of place with so little protection and their combs so 
exposed. It made me realize anew that although it 
was December it was also Southern California! 
I climbed up till my eyes were level with the col¬ 
ony and watched them with a pleasant feeling of 
familiarity. 
They were rather dark hybrids, and from my 
vantage point, I estimated they had stored away a 
good deal of honey in their combs from the wild 
