THE BEE HUNTER
THIS little treatise is in part the child of frustration, in part the child of irritation. In a modest way, the writer has been an author. The first book he ever wrote, an opus of several chapters, was called “The Bee Hunter.” The writer was then eighteen. Submitted, on the advice of the late Robert W. Chambers, to his publisher in New York, the young author was surprised to learn that his manuscript was rejected. The publisher tactfully pointed out that even the English translation of Maurice Maeterlinck’s La Vie des Abeilles had lost money for its publisher.
The manuscript was put away to gather dust. I believe and trust now that it is lost. It was terrible.
So much for the frustration. Now for the irritation. Being an unsung author on the subject and, more important, a successful bee hunter of fifty years’ experience, the writer has read a certain number of articles on bee hunting. One appears every year or two. Starting with two essays by John Burroughs, one fact is common to all. They are written by men who never possibly could have found a bee tree, at least by pursuing the methods they describe. Burroughs came nearest the truth, but even he seems to have got his account from some farmer with more imagination than experience. It is time for someone who has hunted bees and found bee trees to write the facts. For bee hunting is rapidly becoming a lost art.
The writer’s interest in the sport began at the age of ten when he was initiated by an old Adirondacker who had sunk to driving his grandfather’s mules in Newport, New Hampshire. George Smith, as I shall call him, was a character, to the youngster as fabulous as Paul Bunyan. He took his whiskey neat. He smoked and chewed at the same time and could spit without removing the pipe from his mouth. His profanity could take the bluing off a gun barrel. Withal, he was one of the kindest and most generous of men and a mighty bee hunter before the Lord, or the devil if one prefers. He introduced the boy to the simple equipment necessary for the art, and though through the years I have improved it slightly, the fundamentals of the few objects have remained the same.
A BEE BOX
The most important item is the bee box. This one can make oneself if one is clever, or employ a cabinetmaker to do it from specifications if, like the writer, one is not. The box should be of wood, about five and one-half inches long, three inches wide, and three inches deep. The wood of an old-fashioned cigar box is an excellent material but if used, the box should be left outdoors some time to weather, as bees do not like the odor of tobacco. The box should be divided into two compartments, the front one open with a hinged lid. In the lid there should be a small glass window which can be darkened by a wooden slide. Between the front and rear compartments there should be an opening at the bottom two-thirds of an inch wide which can be opened and closed by a wooden slide manipulated from the outside. The rear of the inside compartment should be of glass, covered with a wooden slide which can be raised on occasion to admit light to the compartment. The box should be nicely and tightly constructed, shellacked after completion, and lightproof. Remember, it will be out in all sorts of weather and the older it is, and the more weathered it becomes, the better the bees will like it.
