"Next day we had a warm, sunshiny day--just such an one as would bring
the bees out. After breakfast we all set forth for the openings, in
high spirits at the prospect of the sport we should have. Harry was
more eager than any of us. He had heard a good deal about bee-hunters;
and was very desirous of knowing how they pursued their craft. He could
easily understand that, when a bee-tree was once found, it could be cut
down with an axe and split open, and the honey taken from it. All this
would be very easily done. But how were bee-trees found? That was the
puzzle; for, as I have before observed, these trees do not differ in
appearance from others around them; and the hole by which the bees enter
is usually so high up, that one cannot see these little insects from the
ground. One might tell it to be a bee's nest, if his attention were
called to it; for the bark around the entrance, like that of the
squirrel's, is always discoloured, in consequence of the bees alighting
upon it with their moist feet. But then one may travel a long while
through the woods before chancing to notice this. Bee-trees are
sometimes found by accident; but the regular bee-hunter does not depend
upon this, else his calling would be a very uncertain one. There is no
accident in the way he goes to work. He seeks for the nest, and is
almost sure to find it--provided the ground be open enough to enable him
to execute his manoeuvres. I may here remark that, wherever bees take
up their abode, there is generally open tracts in their neighbourhood,
or else flower-bearing trees--since in very thick woods under the deep
dark shadow of the foliage, flowers are more rare, and consequently the
food of the bees more difficult to be obtained. These creatures love
the bright glades and sunny openings, often met with in the
prairie-forests of the wild West.
"Well, as I have said, we were all eager to witness how our bee-hunter,
Cudjo, would set about finding the bee-tree--for up to this time he had
kept the secret to himself, to the great tantalisation of Harry, whose
impatience had now reached its maximum of endurance. The implements
which Cudjo had brought along with him--or as he called them, the
`fixins'--were exceedingly simple in their character. They consisted of
a drinking-glass--fortunately we had one that had travelled safely in
our great mess-chest--a cup-full of maple molasses, and a few tufts of
white wool taken from the skin of a rabbit. `How was he going to use
these things?' thought Harry, and so did we all--for none of us knew
anything of the process, and Cudjo seemed determined to keep quiet about
his plans, until he should give us a practical illustration of them.
"At length we arrived at the glades, and entered one of the largest of
them, where we halted. Pompo was taken from the cart, and picketed upon
the grass; and we all followed Cudjo--observing every movement that he
made. Harry's eyes were on him like a lynx, for he feared lest Cudjo
might go through some part of the operation without his seeing or
understanding it. He watched him, therefore, as closely as if Cudjo had
been a conjuror, and was about to perform some trick. The latter said
nothing, but went silently to work--evidently not a little proud of his
peculiar knowledge, and the interest which he was exciting by it.
"There was a dead log near one edge of the opening. To this the
bee-hunter proceeded; and, drawing out his knife, scraped off a small
portion of the rough bark--so as to render the surface smooth and even.
Only a few square inches of the log were thus polished and levelled.
That would be enough for his purpose. Upon the spot thus prepared, he
poured out a quantity of the molasses--a small quantity, forming a
little circle about the size of a penny piece. He next took the glass,
and wiped it with the skirt of his coat until it was as clear as a
diamond. He then proceeded among the flowers in search of a bee.
"One was soon discovered nestling upon the blossom of a helianthus.
Cudjo approached it stealthily, and with an adroit movement inverted the
glass upon it, so as to inclose both bee and flower; at the same instant
one of his hands--upon which was a strong buckskin glove--was slipped
under the mouth of the glass, to prevent the bee from getting out; and,
nipping the flower stalk between his fingers, he bore off both the bee
and the blossom.
"On arriving at the log, the flower was taken out of the glass by a
dexterous movement, and thrown away. The bee still remained, buzzing up
against the bottom of the glass--which, of course, was now the top, for
Cudjo had held it all the while inverted on his palm. The glass was
then set upon the log, mouth downwards, so as to cover the little spot
of molasses; and it was thus left, while we all stood around to watch
it.
"The bee, still frightened by his captivity, for some time kept circling
around the upper part of the glass--seeking, very naturally, for an
egress in that direction. His whirring wings, however, soon came in
contact with the top of the vessel; and he was flung down right into the
molasses. There was not enough of the `treacle' to hold him fast; but
having once tasted of its sweets, he showed no disposition to leave it.
On the contrary, he seemed to forget all at once that he was a captive;
and thrusting his proboscis into the honeyed liquid, he set about
drinking it like a good fellow.
"Cudjo did not molest him until he had fairly gorged himself; then,
drawing him gently aside with the rim of the glass, he separated him
from his banquet. He had removed his gloves, and cautiously inserting
his naked hand he caught the bee--which was now somewhat heavy and
stupid--between his thumb and forefinger. He then raised it from the
log; and turning it breast upward, with his other hand he attached a
small tuft of the rabbit wool to the legs of the insect. The glutinous
paste with which its thighs were loaded enabled him to effect this the
more easily. The wool, which was exceedingly light, was now `flaxed
out,' in order to make it show as much as possible, while, at the same
time, it was so arranged as not to come in contact with the wings of the
bee and hinder its flight. All this did Cudjo with an expertness which
surprised us, and would have surprised any one who was a stranger to the
craft of the bee-hunter. He performed every operation with great
nicety, taking care not to cripple the insect; and, indeed, we did not
injure it in the least--for Cudjo's fingers, although none of the
smallest, were as delicate in the touch as those of a fine lady.
"When everything was arranged, he placed the bee upon the log again,
laying it down very gently.
"The little creature seemed quite astounded at the odd treatment which
it was receiving; and for a few seconds remained motionless upon the
log; but a warm sunbeam glancing down upon it soon restored it to its
senses; and perceiving that it was once more free, it stretched its
translucent wings and rose suddenly into the air. It mounted straight
upward, to a height of thirty or forty feet; and then commenced circling
around, as we could see by the white wool that streamed after it.
"It was now that Cudjo's eyes rolled in good earnest. The pupils seemed
to be dilated to twice their usual size, and the great balls appeared to
tumble about in their sockets, as if there was nothing to hold them.
His head, too, seemed to revolve, as if his short thick neck had been
suddenly converted into a well-greased pivot, and endowed with rotatory
motion!
"After making several circles through the air, the insect darted off for
the woods. We followed it with our eyes as long as we could; but the
white tuft was soon lost in the distance, and we saw no more of it. We
noticed that it had gone in a straight line, which the bee always
follows when returning loaded to his hive--hence an expression often
heard in western America, the `bee-line,' and which has its synonym in
England in the phrase, `as the crow flies.' Cudjo knew it would keep on
in this line, until it had reached the tree where its nest was;
consequently, he was now in possession of one link in the chain of his
discovery--_the direction of the bee-tree from the point where we
stood_.
"But would this be enough to enable him to find it? Evidently not. The
bee might stop on the very edge of the woods, or it might go twenty
yards beyond, or fifty, or perhaps a quarter of a mile, without coming
to its tree. It was plain, then, to all of us, that _the line in which
the tree lay_ was not enough, as without some other guide one might have
searched along this line for a week without finding the nest.
"All this knew Cudjo before; and, of course, he did not stop a moment to
reflect upon it then. He had carefully noted the direction taken by the
insect, which he had as carefully `marked' by the trunk of a tree which
grew on the edge of the glade, and in the line of the bee's flight.
Another `mark' was still necessary to record the latter, and make things
sure. To do this, Cudjo stooped down, and with his knife cut an oblong
notch upon the bark of the log, which pointed lengthwise in the
direction the bee had taken. This he executed with great precision. He
next proceeded to the tree which he had used as a marker, and `blazed'
it with his axe.
"`What next?' thought we. Cudjo was not long in showing us what was to
be next. Another log was selected, at a point, at least two hundred
yards distant from the former one. A portion of this was scraped in a
similar manner, and molasses poured upon the clear spot as before.
Another bee was caught, imprisoned under the glass, fed, hoppled with
wool, and then let go again. To our astonishment, this one flew off in
a direction nearly opposite to that taken by the former.
"`Neber mind,' said Cudjo, `so much de better--two bee-tree better than
one.'
"Cudjo marked the direction which the latter had taken, precisely as he
had done with the other.
"Without changing the log a third bee was caught and `put through.'
This one took a new route, different from either of his predecessors.
"`Gollies! Massa!' cried Cudjo, `dis valley am full ob honey. Three
bee-trees at one stand!' and he again made his record upon the log.
"A fourth bee was caught, and, after undergoing the ceremony, let go
again. This one evidently belonged to the same hive as the first, for
we saw that it flew toward the same point in the woods. The direction
was carefully noted, as before. A clue was now found to the whereabouts
of one hive--that of _the first_ and _fourth_ bees. That was enough for
the present. As to the second and third, the records which Cudjo had
marked against them would stand good for the morrow or any other day;
and he proceeded to complete the `hunt' after the nest of Numbers 1 and
4.
"We had all by this time acquired an insight into the meaning of Cudjo's
manoeuvres, and we were able to assist him. The exact point where the
bee-tree grew was now determined. It stood at the point where the two
lines made by bees, Numbers 1 and 4, met each other. It would be found
at the very apex of this angle--_wherever it was_. But that was the
next difficulty--to get at this point. There would have been no
difficulty about it, had the ground been open, or so that we could have
seen to a sufficient distance through the woods. This could have been
easily accomplished by two of us stationing ourselves--one at each of
the two logs--while a third individual moved along either of the lines.
The moment this third person should appear on both lines at once, he
would of course be at the point of intersection; and at this point the
bee-tree would be found. I shall explain this by a diagram.
"Suppose that A and C were the two logs, from which the bees, Numbers 1
and 4, had respectively taken their flight; and suppose A B and C B to
be the directions in which they had gone. If they went directly home--
which it was to be presumed they both did--they would meet at their nest
at some point B. This point could not be discovered by seeing the bees
meeting at it, for they were already lost sight of at short distances
from A and C. But without this, had the ground been clear of timber, we
could easily have found it in the following manner:--I should have
placed myself at log A, while Cudjo stationed himself at C. We should
then have sent one of the boys--say Harry--along the line A D. This,
you must observe, is a _fixed_ line, for D was already a _marked_ point.
After reaching D, Harry should continue on, keeping in the same line.
The moment, therefore, that he came under the eye of Cudjo--who would be
all this while glancing along C E, also a fixed line--he would then be
on both lines at once, and consequently at their point of intersection.
This, by all the laws of bee-hunting, would be the place to find the
nest; and, as I have said, we could easily have found it thus, had it
not been for the trees. But these intercepted our view, and therein lay
the difficulty; for the moment Harry should have passed the point D,
where the underwood began, he would have been lost to our sight, and, of
course, of no farther use in establishing the point B.
"For myself, I could not see clearly how this difficulty was to be got
over--as the woods beyond D and E were thick and tangled. The thing was
no puzzle to Cudjo, however. He knew a way of finding B, and the
bee-tree as well, and he went about it at once.
"Placing one of the boys at the station A, so that he could see him over
the grass, he shouldered his axe, and moved off along the line A D. He
entered the woods at D, and kept on until he had found a tree from which
both A and D were visible, and which lay exactly in _the same line_.
This tree he `blazed.' He then moved a little farther, and blazed
another, and another--all on the continuation of the line A D--until we
could hear him chopping away at a good distance in the woods. Presently
he returned to the point E; and, calling to one of us to stand for a
moment at C, he commenced `blazing' backwards, on the continuation of C
E. We now joined him--as our presence at the logs was no longer
necessary to his operations.
"At a distance of about two hundred yards from the edge of the glade,
the blazed lines were seen to approach each other. There were several
very large trees at this point. Cudjo's `instinct' told him, that in
one of these the bees had their nest. He flung down his axe at length,
and rolled his eyes upwards. We all took part in the search, and gazed
up, trying to discover the little insects that, no doubt, were winging
their way among the high branches.
"In a few moments, however, a loud and joyful exclamation from Cudjo
proclaimed that the hunt was over--_the bee-tree was found_!
"True enough, there was the nest, or the entrance that led to it, away
high up on a giant sycamore. We could see the discoloration on the bark
caused by the feet of the bees, and even the little creatures themselves
crowding out and in. It was a large tree, with a cavity at the bottom
big enough to have admitted a full-sized man, and, no doubt, hollow up
to the place where the bees had constructed their nest.
"As we had spent many hours in finding it, and the day was now well
advanced, we concluded to leave farther operations for the morrow, when
we should fell it, and procure the delicious honey. With this
determination, and well satisfied with our day's amusement, we returned
to our house."