_Dowagiac, Mich._, Sept., 1870.
[For the American Bee Journal.]
Novice.
Mr. EDITOR:--Sometime ago, in one of our articles, we mentioned that we
considered the “Apiary” department in the “_Rural New Yorker_” of more
real worth than some of the periodicals specially devoted to bees.
We had then seen about half a dozen of the “Rurals” that contained some
very good articles, from the pens of intelligent bee-keepers who were
well up to the times. Since then, however, we have seen so much else
there so greatly behind the times, that we must think our decision then
a little hasty. For instance last week a bee-keeper takes the trouble to
inform the public that “hives should be moved in the night _when the
bees are all in_, for he had just moved some in the day time and a large
number that were out, never found their hive on their return. So take
notice everybody, always move your bees at night!” As this was given as
a piece of valuable information, we looked in vain for some note from
the editors, cautioning their readers against falling into the same
error, and pointing it out. And then we wondered if the editors knew any
better, or anything about bees at all, for many of their articles seem
to imply that they are uninformed and publish anything they come across,
indiscriminately, truth and error, without note or comment.
The editor of the Apiculturist thought it the height of absurdity
because we seemed to consider him in any way responsible for what his
correspondent wrote. We certainly _were_ so innocent as to suppose that
an editor _knew_ what he was going to publish, and that should a
correspondent send him an article containing a very gross error,
calculated to lead beginners astray, he would tell such correspondent
his mistake, without using his article; or if it contained something
else good and valuable, and he decided to publish it, he would kindly
mention the mistake or error, in a little note somewhere, and give his
readers confidence by letting them know that some one _was_ “running the
machine” “somewhere.”
There are a large number of good farmers who refuse to read agricultural
papers, because they say, and with considerable reason, that more than
half that is written is “impracticable nonsense.” We believe the
American Agriculturist and the American Bee Journal are at least two
noble exceptions. None of their readers can fail to know that each of
those papers is _edited_ by some one who is fully posted, and is _at
home_ too _every time_.
The Apiculturist intimates that we think no one else has a right to
_start_ a bee journal. So far from that we would be glad to subscribe
this minute for half a dozen more; if they were in charge of competent
men and had the broad platform before them that our own Journal
has--namely, the advancement of bee culture for the nation at large.
We should have replied to the Apiculturist before, but he “called
names,” and when we were a small boy we used to make it a principle that
when our comrades called us names, we “wouldn’t play any more,” and we
feel just so still.
We, too, Mr. Editor, noticed the mention in the “Scientific American,”
of the chicken roost bee arrangement to stop moths, and felt pained to
think that anything, so far behind the times, should be found in that
paper. Then, again, we noticed shortly after where they advised a
correspondent to _chop_ up his combs and strain the honey out, and
mentioned too that it _was said_ that the outside combs contained the
nicest honey! Have Munn & Co., too, been sleeping in Rip Van Winkle
style, or do they think us Bee Journal people not to be depended on?
We have had many letters from highly intelligent people, even professors
in colleges, asking about the melextractor and inquiring whether there
was no serious objection to such unnatural treatment of bees?
“Unnatural treatment,” indeed! About the 25th of last June, a farmer
called on us to know where he could sell his honey best. On asking him
how he had got it so early, he coolly informed us that he had _taken it
up_, as _it seemed full_! But how about the brood? He didn’t know what
we meant by brood, but had thrown away the young bees and did not think
that they were of any use! Murdered thousands of young innocents before
the end of June! Of course such treatment is perfectly _natural_ and
right. He didn’t get much for his honey.
Mr. Editor, we are getting hoarse in trying to explain, and all we tell
inquirers now is to get the “_American Bee Journal_.” Yet many, many
times they can’t afford it, and many more times don’t get time to read
it. Yet the same persons will say--“Why, Novice, your forty-six hives of
bees have been worth more to you than any hundred acre farm in Medina
county,” and go home quite excited.
We have had a few weeks’ drouth, the first this season, and it soon
stopped the honey from autumnal wild flowers.
Since Mr. Tillinghast suggested our being called “Expert” (or some such
foolishness), we think we could hardly be honest without confessing some
of our work this fall. For instance, we removed queen from No. 23,
August 9th, and ten days after cut out thirty-two (32) queen cells. We
have mentioned before that we tried hatching some of them in cages, and
the rest were put in hives from which we had removed hybrid queens. We
were such an _expert_ at the business that we hatched about one-half the
thirty-two, and after they were hatched, we _bungled_ the life out of
_every one_--some by artificial fertilization experiments; and the rest
wouldn’t lay and finally died their “own selves.”
Well, (we have considerable patience,) we tried again; removed queen
from No. 16, August 28, and cut out twenty-one (21) cells ten days
after. Of these we _did_ raise five laying queens; and most of the other
cells were destroyed by laying them on the top of the frames when the
weather was too cool. In fact we have had more cells destroyed this fall
than ever before, and only saved five by inserting them carefully in
place of one _cut out_. Now, Mr. Editor, we should have felt somewhat
better at this result, had we not discovered that the original queen
removed from No. 16 had been killed, and only a miserable, small, black
queen reared in her place. She was put in a hive in which we had a
caged, unfertile queen, and we neglected to look whether they had raised
any more. _Inexcusable carelessness_, we call it.
To shorten the matter, we sent Mr. Grimm fifty dollars on Monday
morning, and received twenty-five nice queens (or a part of them at
least) on Saturday afternoon. Is not that pretty prompt?
Now, Mr. Editor, we are going to take this queen raising business up
next spring just where we left off; and if we can’t do better, and at
least raise enough for our own apiary, we shall call ourself something
worse than