Bee Hunting: A Book of Valuable Information for Bee Hunters / Tells How to Line Bees to Trees, Etc.

by John Ready Lockard

CHAPTER I.
AN OLD BEE HUNTER.

The bee hunters in my early days used one of two methods in hunting the bee. The hunter would select a clear day, generally during buckwheat bloom, and after determining on a course, sun them to the tree. This was done by placing the hat or hand between the eye and sun as close to the light as the eye would permit. If the hunter knew the difference between the flight of a loaded bee and an unloaded one he would keep on the course until the tree was located.

This method must undoubtedly be injurious to the eyes and I do not follow this plan nor advise others to do so. The other method was what was termed burning or baiting. A fire was built near where the bee tree was supposed to be, large flat sand stones were placed on the fire and heated. One of these was removed to some place clear of trees and underbrush, some bee-comb, dampened with water, was then placed on the stone, and when the fumes of the comb would go off into the air any bees flying near were apt to be enticed to the bait, which was sprinkled on a bunch of bushes and laid near the stone. Many bees were found in this way, but if they went any great distance two or more fires had to be built. This would require much time and often the hunter, not being careful in extinguishing the fire, the surrounding leaves would catch fire and a destructive forest fire would result. Therefore it shall be my aim to eliminate anything of an injurious or objectionable nature in the work I lay before the reader.

On a calm morning in the early part of November, I went to the top of the mountain west of my home. The day was an ideal one. The trees had shed their leaves, making a thick carpet over the earth. It seemed that all nature was getting ready for a long winter sleep. All flowers except a few bunches of mountain goldenrod were dead. The bees seemed to be aware that their labors were about ended and were eagerly looking for anything in shape of sweets that would add to their store of supplies and thus help to tide over the long winter. After arriving at the top of the mountain I built a fire, heated a large flat stone and took some bee comb and proceeded to follow the example before mentioned. After watching quite a long time and not seeing any bees I was on the point of giving it up, at this place at least, when that sound so delightful to the ear of the bee hunter, the silvery tone of the bee in flight, came to my ear. Several times the sound was repeated but so far I had not got a sight of it. On looking over the top of the bushes I saw two bees flying slowly, sometimes coming near the bait, then darting away, then returning and finally settling down on the bait. All was anxiety! I must be sure to see these two bees take their homeward flight. In a very short time one of them slowly raised from the bait, circled a time or two, and then darted away so quickly that I knew not where. Now the other one won't escape me so easily. But when I turned to look, she, too, was gone. In a short time they were back and lots of others close behind. In a half hour there must have been a quart of bees on the bait. By this time I had seen a number of bees fly due west and some due east. So taking another hot stone and going some distance on the course west, I put the stone down, burnt more comb, and in a few minutes had lots of bees. They still continued westward. The next time I stopped where a swamp extended from the top of the mountain back some two hundred yards. There were many large gum trees growing in this swamp. After a while I was convinced that the bees flew at right angles from the former course. Leaving the bait I went into the swamp and found them going into a large gum tree about twenty feet from the ground. My spirits were high, this being the first bee I had ever found entirely by myself. Taking out my knife and going up to the tree to put my initials thereon, my spirits fell as suddenly as they had risen. There in plain view were the letters I. W. The spirit of selfishness then showed itself. What right had anyone to take this bee from me? I had almost come to the point of thinking I had a monopoly in the bee hunting business and that others had no right to intrude. I trust others do not show this spirit and am sure I have got rid of it myself. If there is any pleasure or benefit to be derived from anything, God certainly intends it for all. The initials would not correspond with the name of anyone I knew, but supposed that some time I would find out who I. W. was. Now the bee that flew east could be looked for, but what was the use? Hadn't the best bee hunters in the country tried to find it and failed? Beyond a certain point all trees disappeared. This was the only Italian bee known to be in a radius of ten miles and it was not a great while after their introduction into this country. So taking my way to the top of the mountain near the edge of the swamp, I was surprised to find a cabin, and from indication it had just been built. On going up to the door my eye fell on the occupant, a man well up in years. In one corner was a number of steel traps. In another a rifle of the then modern type. These signs told me that a new hunter had taken up his abode among us. He told me to be seated and moved over on the rude bench to make room for me. He began by asking me what I was doing out on the mountain, and as I was so young, no doubt had an idea that I was lost.

I told him that I was bee hunting and had found one but some one had found it before I had, and that the initials I. W. were cut on the tree. Turning to me he said, "You don't know who that stands for? Well, young man, I kin tell you. I. W. stands for Ike Ward, and that's me. The little fellers come sippin' around my cabin and I give 'em a little sweet water and found 'em in a jiffy." I then told him of the Italian bee. He asked me why I didn't find it. The reply was that the very best bee hunters in the country had tried it and failed and I supposed it would be of no use for me to try it. "Well, they must be great bee hunters; why, young man, I would rather undertake to find a bee than ketch a rabbit in a good trackin' snow. The rabbit might jump up and run away, but after I get my bee started, he's mine." It was getting well along in the afternoon and I told him I must go home. "Well, your folks might think something has happened to you and I won't ask ye to stay any longer; but come up again and we will find that yaller bee." I thanked him and asked when it would suit him to go. "You kin come any time you keer to, but ye'd better come early when you do come, fer I might be out scoutin' round and not be home." That proposed bee hunt was the only thing thought of on my way home, the only thought that went with me to my bed, and in my dreams I saw the most beautiful yellow bees in the world on combs of snowy whiteness, some of them as large as a door.

Early the next morning, before the sun had shown himself to the people down in the valley, I was far on my way up the mountain on my way to the hunter's cabin. Great drops of sweat were standing all over my face, but I never slackened my pace until I heard the cheering "Good morning" from the old hunter at the cabin. "Jist come and rest yerself. It's a little too early fer bees to fly yit." I replied that I wasn't tired. "When I was your age I didn't get tired either, but if you get to be as old as me you won't walk so fast up hill; you're all a lather of sweat."

About an hour later we went out to where I had first baited the bees. I began to gather wood to start a fire and burn for them again. "What are ye goin' to do with that wood?" was his inquiry. On being informed that this was the way I got them to bait, he chuckled to himself and said he would show me a better and easier way. He then took a handkerchief from his pocket, then a small bottle containing something that was of a fluid form, and sprinkled the handkerchief with it. He then got a pole eight or ten feet long and put the cloth on one end, raised it as high in the air as he could, moving it back and forth in the breeze. Very soon hundred of bees were darting through the air. The pole was slowly lowered until the handkerchief rested on the ground, sweetened water was sprinkled on some bushes, and in a few minutes the yellow bees were flying east and the black ones found previously flying west.

This was a very simple, but a new departure from the mode followed in those days. He explained to me that the little vial contained water, with a few drops of the oil of anisseed added, and there were other scents perhaps better, but this being the only kind he had at that time was the reason for using it. We went directly east on the course four or five hundred yards. This brought us to the top of the mountain and to a large rock that was fully one hundred feet from the ground at the base to the top. From this rock we had a clear view of the valley below. The eastern side of the mountain was very hilly, and covered with a dense growth of trees, and farther down, this forest never hearing the sound of the woodman's ax, became so dense that the sun could scarcely find an opening to the earth. The cloth was sprinkled with more of the scent, waved a few times in the air, and laid beside the bait, which was composed of sugar and water, on the rock. Bees came in abundance. Very soon we could see some bees, heavily loaded, circle around and dart off down, down, until lost to our sight. Others would fly both north and south along the top, making three distinct courses. The old hunter watched these different flights for a considerable time, then going some distance along the top, and after a short time came back saying, "Just as I expected. These fly out there, make a turn, and come back to join the course that flies straight down. Now come with me out the other way and we will see if the others don't do the same." Sure enough! Taking our station some fifty yards from the bait we could see them coming heavily loaded, bend down and back toward the main course.

"I have found many bees in my time, young man, an' never saw one act this way unless the tree was close. They act like they don't want to leave that rock; but we will go down and look at some of that timber." As all the timber far below had been looked at many times in the past I thought it useless but did not say so. After looking at the nearest trees below, those farther down were examined. The morning had been cloudy but now the sun was bright and clear. The hunter placed his hand before his eyes and gazing up at the sun said he "never saw sich actin'; they seem to come right toward the ground. I have found 'em in queer places but never in the ground." Just then a bee lit on some leaves in front of me. I called his attention to it. "Now ain't it a beauty? Poor little fellow; got too heavy a load an' has to rest. Now watch sharp; when he goes he will likely fly straight." In a short time he slowly raised, made a half circle, darted down the mountain, and was lost to me. Not so with my companion. Stooped low, his arm thrust forward as though guiding the bee in its flight, he slowly turned his arm, still following, until he was pointing straight up the hill. "As sure as my name is Ike Ward that bee flew up the hill, and just as sure its home is there, too."