THE APIARY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3333, 30 January 1918, Page 7

THE APIARY.

By J. A. DIARY OF A BEEKEEPERSEASON 1917-1918. January 17. —A fine day, in which tho bees did good work, putting on scale hivo 61b. Our "long looked for" camo at last in the form of box timber. The want of this has hung up our extracting for more than a week past, and with everything shaping for a good flow wero were getting very impatient. The timber wo use is iin dry white pine. This is dressed and cut to the sizes wo require. Tho sides and ends require 9iin stuff, and for bottoms and tops lOin. The finished box measures inside 9in wide by deep by lsiin long, and holds 641 b -of honey. To-day was spent cutting and nailing boxes ready for a start to extract. In the afternoon wo gathered together some put-up brood and stacked it to hatch out. January 18 to 21.—For four days the bees have been shut in through a continuance of cold, stormy weather. The clover is great, and everything in order for a good flow, only the weather conditions are against us. When no honey is coming in tho urgency for extracting becomes less, and so " steady " does it. ' • Jar.uary 22. Extracting. Tho fine weather, if only for a day, has come again. Scale hivo put on 111 b to-day. Unfortunately for us, the weather forecast is for a western storm, and appearances seem to indicate its approach. We have filled 50 of our new boxes, Tho honey is rather darker than usual this year, with more of bush flavour; still, "Very fine" is the verdict from those who taste it. Our brood-nest work is done for the season, and now all attention will be given to harvesting' the crop. January 23. —Hot nor'-wester all day. B.ees 'did steady work with small resultscale hive 41b. Continued extracting. Our method of work is to take off sufficient supers first thing in the morning to keep us going for tho day. To-day we took off 24 supers and were ready to begin extracting at 10 o'clock, completing the task by 5.30 in the afternoon, the result being slightly over 10001 b of honey, giving us a total to-da'te of just on two tons. Our vat is small, just holding 8401 b, so each day s work has to be run off into boxes. This is done in the early morning; but the preparation of the boxes, nailing up and running with paraffin has to be done in the evening. In our supers this season we used only nine combs instead of 10, spacing them wide. The result of this is thicker combs, and easier work in uncapping. On field-day someone noticed this, and referred to it, asking if it were a good plan. I am afraid that, owing_ to absorption in other things at the time, I did not reply very fully. With us i't is on trial, and I am not prepared yet to say whether I like it qt not. I certainly like handling the combs when they are full; they are nice and plump, the honey being well outsido the wood of tho frame, and that assists in the uncapping. But there is this difficulty: The bees know those combs are wide spaced, and their plan, instead of widening out the combs, is sometimes to build in a middle comb to.fill up 'the space. On tho top one can get regularity in spacing, and this is not likely to occur; but tho bottom bars do not always hang true, and when the space is wider than it should bo there, the bees often fill in a narrow comb and attach it to the excluder below. As I have said, this system is on trial with us, but I should not wonder if, with a little more care in spacing, we eventually prefer it to the 10-frame.

LETTERS FROM ABEEKEEPER'S WIFE.

(Gleanings in Bog Culture.) Winter Quarters, Dec. 1, 1917. Dear Sis.,—We have iust had a funny experience that I must tell you about, while I wait for my bread. Did you ever notice the first meeting of two strange beekeepers? I'have, often, and it is most curious how little it takes to get them around to bees. Then! Bing I Something happens 1 Some small cord is freed in each man's bosom that reaches out and wraps itself about the other fellow's heart, and draws those two close together. I have never known it to faiL The secret bond between beekeepers makes them bosom friends at once, and the stream of conversation begins to flow. It would flow on forever, I'm sure, wero it not for beekeepers' wives, who have a way of announcing meals or bedtime. Rob is always delighted to see a "brother" came up our lane, and he always keeps him as long as possible. I know exactly the trend of the river of beetalk with all its ramifications and branches, and I must say that I enjoy ft, and;join in occasionally, too. They always begin with th.i last season's crop—why it was large or small, what it was in other parts of the countrv; then comes the honey-flow and the weather during it, then to sources of nectar. After that they company strains of bees, warm up to methods of wintering, queen-rearing, and disease. By this time day is waning, and supper interrupts. The visitor tries to be polite, and inquires about the children's school, but his mind is always on bocs, and he will probably interrupt my reply by turning to Rob with. " 0!i! by the way, did I tell you that I am trying out a new winter caso?" It is so hopeless that wo let him go, and the stream wanders back to its accustomed bed. After supper they discuss the _ last national convention, _ then to personalities, find mutual beekeeping friends, until I go to bed. (They never notice my slipping out, for they have begun on the relative merits of comb and extracted honey, and that is an endles3 subject!) I hear the drone of 'their voices until I sleep, and in the morning when I say accusingly to Rob, "What time did you come to bed?" ho always replies in a shamefaced, way, "Oh! about half-past." What I began to tell you was that last week an odd-looking man with a heavy black beard and slouch hat came to tho door to inquire his way, and Rob stood talking to him a few minutes. Then they sat on the steps and talked more, and I gathered from what I heard that ho was a beekeeper. Soon Rob came into the kitchen, and said, "Put on an extra plate. Mr Samson will stay for supper." I whispered, ' Why, Rob, you don't know a

thing about that man. He may be a robber or a murderer, for al! you know!" " Well, I know ho Is a beekeeper," Rob replied, and that settled it. Come to 'think of it, beekeepers as a whole are about as respectable and honest a group of men as you can find. I noticed at the State Convention how few of them smoked, and I know of many clergymen who keep bees. In foreign bee- journals you will often see articles signed "Abbe " or " Pastor ——," so I believe that is the case in. other countries, too. The. strange Mr Samson did stay to supper, and, not only that, but overnight! I put him in fcha guest room, much against my wishes; but I put the eilver spoons under our bed. I'll trust becmen pretty far but not Xo the extent of leaving my silver downstairs. Our guest seemed very grateful for our hospitality, and went off tho next morning, ho and Rob the best of friends. I couldn't feel just right 'towards him because of his brigand-looking beard, I think; but this morning the nicest letter camo from him on paper engraved " Beechwood Apiaries,'' and with it was a little bank shaped like a beehive for Billy, with a, sdol gold piece in it! I'll never suspect a beekeeper again of trying to steal my silver spoons! I will write again before Christmas, but let mo say that one of my New "STear's resolutions ia to be that I shall not mention bees to you again in my letters, for I know you must be tired of them! My bread ia riz, and I fly!—Mary-.