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I would not enter on my list of friends,
Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
'Yet wanting sensibility, the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. - Cowpes.
Vol. 7. BOSTON, JUNE, 1874. .No. 1.
Our Dumb Animals.
Published on the first Tuesday of each Month by the
TERMs.-$1.00 per annum, in advance.
Postage in the city, FREE. To all parts of the United States,
outside of Boston, TWELVE CENTS PER ANNUM for each pack-
age of four ounces, payable in advance, at the office where
received, or at our office.
Articles for the paper, and subscriptions, may be sent to the
Secretary.
GEORGE T. ANGELL .. . . . . . . President.
GREELY S. CURTIS, . . . . . . . Treasurer.
FRANK 13. FAY. . . . . . . . . . Secretary.
CHARLES A. CURRIER . . . . . . ..Special Agent.
OFFICE OF THE SOCIETY,
46 WASHINGTON STREET, IBOSTON.
[For Our Dumb Animals.]
Whims of the Fartm-house Bees.
BY ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH.
The females are called queens, not more than
one of which can live in the same hive, says an
observant writer upon this singular and most
suggestive community. Nothing can exceed the
neatness and order of their dwellings-from cellar
to attic, all is sweet as a rose-not an atom of
dust, not a trace of bug or fly, not a sound of com-
plaint, not a sound of discord. Diligent, thrifty,
decorous, the little people go on like clock-work,
and naturally suggest the question whether all
this be not in consequence of there being but one
representative of femininity in any one hive! * * *
Some years ago we kept bees, and I found them
very pleasant and companionable. I used to visit
them frequently, and talk to them, and they evi-
dently liked my conversation, for sometimes a
busy bee would stay his head-long flight to
listen, and would alight upon my arm, and
walk with me. One of my children would be with
me and I have seen many a bee, odorous of thyme,
and wild clover, and honeysuckle, dotting the lit-
tle boy's shoulders. We used to call them little
friends, and had no fear of them, Indeed, people
have little to fear from workers of any kind!
GOOD LOVERS, GOOD HATERS.
We have not half learned about the Go to the
ant thou sluggard, and the little busy bee that
improves each shining hour. I like bees for
many rea-ionq a pociavly for their eelecti4'em.
They are good lovers and good haters-they take
almost absurd likings to one person, and ap-
parently equally absurd dislikes to another,
although in my secret mind I can see a reason for
the dislike, it being to persons I should dislike
also, if I were a bee. I found they liked blond
people better than dark; plump people better than
the thin and scragged, and I think old broadcloth
and old black silk were distasteful to them.
It has been doubted if bees have a keen sense of
smell! This is a foul aspersion, as all fine organ-
izations have excellent noses, and the bee in par-
ticular. If, as is sometimes the case, a demoralized
community feed upon poison-ash, deadly laurel,
nightshade or hellebore, the reason is to be found
in some painful experience, which has turned them
aside from the wholesome herbs native to their
taste;
And as the dove to fair Palmyra flying,
From where her native founts of Antioch beam,
Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighini,
Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream,
so these unhappy bees must have been overcome
by some fatal necessity, and absorbed that which
is foreign to their natures.
It was pleasant to have these dainty adventurers
alight upon my head or hand, bringing their
nectarine aromas with them, and so proud of their
thighs loaded with pollen, or their breasts in their
cuirass of aromatic wax. They liked to have me
examine their little baskets, so deftly filled, upon
either thigh, and condole with them when they
moved heavily under the burden.
TEMPERANCE.
There is one thing, which I have never seen
stated, and which is an important point in their
history. The bee is strictly temperate. I have
found my vagrant doves cured of their propensity
to stray by giving them crumbs of bread and sugar
mixed with brandy, but I believe alcohol in any
shape would have driven my bees away.
Any high liver, carrying about him a latent
suspicion of wine, brandy or whiskey, each of
which were evidently repugnant to my friends the
bees, no sooner made his appearance in the
garden, then whiz!-buz! darted a bee at him,
who gave the alarm to his neighbors, as much as
to say- Here is something not nice, let us at
him! And they did at him, and we always had
to hurry him out, greatly to his annoyance, and
loath to believe the cause. The experiment of
walkino- near the hives was tried several times,
with a like result. An old gardener and his crony
were obliged to give the hives a wide berth, for
both of them exhaled alcohol, as the bees would
none of it, and drove them out furiously. I do not
think they like cologne, by their sharp movements
when we carried this artificial perfume amid the
sweet odors of clover, buttercup and daisy. I
would not have it thought that my bees were rude
or discourteous, by what I have said, but has not
good old Bishop Taylor said, that he that hath
not anger, lacketh sinews to the soul, and I
contend that my bees were only angry in a praise-
worthy sense.
SWARMING.
At swarming time, which occurs at the advent
of a young queen, she and her coadjutors hasten
to beat a retreat. My neighbors made a wild
demonstration upon tin kettles, pans and other
resonant articles, in order to drown the clamors
of the queen, who was supposed to be intent upon
the utmost freedom, and might go with her young
colony, and hide themselves in parts unknown;
hence the object was to so confuse the new comers,
as that they would settle down near at home, and
be safely housed.
One lovely summer day, one of those tranquil
Sabbath days that seem a foretaste of the heavenly
rest, my family were all gone to church, and I,
with my baby, was left at home quite alone, when
in rushed a bare-footed, bare-headed urchin, crying
out, Oh! mum, your bees is swarming; I'll help
you to ding the pans. I explained to him that
such a noise could not be made on Sunday, and
that I could get along without any noise at all, if
he would hold the baby. I then fastened a fresh
towel over my head and shoulders, lest they
might lodge in my hair, and taking a new hive,
went outv My ambrosia-loving family were hover-
ing over the pea-vines: no sooner did I place
myself near them then they settled down in one
great, black, rotating ball. I then, with my
ungloved hands, swept them all into the hive, and
carried them to the shelf. I did not receive a
'49b.
. k N r S p .. . .
F'OR
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