Last fall I bought an Italian queen from a reliable breeder. She came recommended as A No. 1. I received her on the 8th of September. All the workers sent with her were dead, except two; and she was herself so benumbed by cold that I had quite a time of it bringing her back to vitality. Finally I succeeded in getting her quite lively, and introduced her to a tolerably weak swarm. On the 10th of October finely marked Italians were flying in front of the hive. I spared no pains in wintering. (I winter out-of-doors.) In April she had filled three cards of brood. I then gave her a card of drone-comb. She would not look at it, and I moved it back and put in its place a card of worker-comb, which she filled with eggs almost instanter. I then put the drone-comb in the middle of the cluster, and got about fifty drones. Of course I was stimulating, and kept plenty of honey in the hive. I put in other worker-comb, but she refused to lay any more. I then took out a frame to start a nucleus, and in about a week after, when examining the old stock, I found queen cells started and the old queen on the comb, apparently all right. In due course a young queen was hatched, and after destroying the queen-cells, she remained with the old queen ten days before she was fertilized, and at least a week after she was laying. At the end of three weeks the old queen was gone.
Now, what does this prove? Simply that the queen was chilled in coming by mail, which interfered with her prolificness, rendering her supersedure a necessity for the future welfare of the colony. She was tolerated in the hive by the new queen and bees, having lost that distinct individuality peculiar to the queen bee, and consequently become to them (the workers and young queen) no more than a common bee. I cannot help but conclude that when such exceptions occur, the course relatively is the same.
Frederick Crathorne.
Bethlehem, Iowa, Oct. 9, 1870.
It cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind of the bee-keeper, that a small colony should be confined to a small space, if we wish the bees to work with the greatest energy, and offer the stoutest resistance to their numerous enemies. Bees do most unquestionably “abhor a vacuum,” if it is one which they can neither fill, warm, nor defend. Let the prudent bee-master keep his stocks strong, and they will do more to defend themselves against all intruders, than he can possibly do for them, even though he spend his whole time in watching and assisting them.—Langstroth.
[For the American Bee Journal.]
The Coming Convention.
Mr. Editor:—We would like to attend the prospective convention of bee-keepers, which is to assemble the coming fall or winter, and to take by the hand some of the many correspondents we have followed through the columns of your Journal, and hear their opinions by the word of mouth, but we must forego that pleasure at present. We are poor and have not straightened up yet the ravages of war. We are rebuilding as fast as our means will admit, and hope in a few years more to see our once desert looking country “blossom as the rose.” We have lost our substance, the toil of years, and in bee parlance, though driven out and robbed of comb and honey, are allowed to return in a bad season, to recuperate.