My bees just swarmed, so I feel for John Dull.
Swarm humor does not change over the centuries! I find that very comforting.
1890 - Vermont's Mr. Manum and His Apiaries
What a great photo!!
Mr. Manum, of Bristol, Vt.
News article below from: Democrat and Chronicle, Rochester, New York, Friday, February 7, 1890, Page 6
A. E. Manum of Bristrol, Vt. , followed with a paper on "How to Run Several Out-Apiaries for Comb Honey in Connection with the Home Apiary for the Most Benefit."
Mr. Manum had located his out-apiaries about five to fifteen miles from his house, the latter being on the west side and at the base of a high mountain. His out-apiaries are on the north, west and south, something in the shape of a half-moon. The apiaries are so situated that they all can be visited, save one every day.
Mr. Manum found it advisable to allow bees to swarm once. He thought that while out-apiaries could not be run as economically as home apiaries, they could be operated economically.
1814 - The Formidable Miss Macdonnell - Beekeeper and Society Lady
Miss MacDonnell appears to be a formidable woman of many interests, including horticulture and beekeeping. I first encountered her in the article on Mr. Love - the good man who loved both pinks and his bees. She gave him a hive of bees, and the article added she won prizes for her large honey combs at competitions. This article is a charming introduction to early 19th century Scotland.
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| The Late Miss Caroline H. E. MacDonnell |
I have added illustrations below when I could find them. Many are postcard images. There were none but the two portraits above (which I played with) in the British Bee Journal & Bee-keepers Adviser.
__________________________
No. 32.—Miss Macdonell, Of Glengarry.
(Extracts from the autobiography of the last of the 'Chieftain's Daughters' bearing the name.)
I am the fourth daughter of Colonel Ranaldson Macdonell, of Glengarry and Clan Ranald. My mother was a daughter of Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Bart., and before her marriage, at twenty-two, lived in Edinburgh. There were seven daughters of us and seven sons; six of the latter died under three years of age.
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| Picture credit: National Gallery of Scotland |
We were a bright and cheerful family, full of mental and bodily vigour among the mountains and glens of our Highland home. My mother was a very clever person in many ways, and wag quite bewildered at her new mode of life, having to send a horse and cart to Inverness (forty-two miles) for some coarse needles the housekeeper wanted: but many other useful articles came back in the cart.
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| River Garry |
My father's birthday, September 16th was always celebrated with Highland games. They generally took place in a field about two miles from the house. We children walked with our governess, the elder members drove—which sometimes seemed a very perilous undertaking, as they had to cross a wooden bridge over the river Garry, which used to shake violently.
The horses particularly disliked the sound it made; my mother was quite afraid, but my father was always determined that horses and servants should do their proper work, and her only relief was to patter her feet on the floor of the carriage, as he said screaming both frightened the horses and made the servants useless.
It was a great day for us children: tents were always pitched for shelter. The feats were splendid, and very different from what they are nowadays.
I do not remember the weight of the stones or the hammers thrown, nor the weight or the length of the caber-tree; but the leaping was admirable over a pony's back, probably thirteen or fourteen hands high.
Our piper used to tell us that he had performed the feat of leaning in and out of six herring-barrels placed close together in succession.
After the games there was always dancing to the pipes in the evening, and the foresters and deer-stalkers did dance well. No one could appear at those games and dance, but in the Highland dress, kilts and plaids, looking beautiful.
When any entertainment took place on a Saturday my mother was most careful to put the clocks forward twenty minutes, so that the house should be cleared before twelve o'clock.
When any entertainment took place on a Saturday my mother was most careful to put the clocks forward twenty minutes, so that the house should be cleared before twelve o'clock.
A "deoch-an-dorius"—a parting glass of whisky —was given to each man in passing out.
(Note: Modern spelling is deoch-an-doris.)
We three schoolroom girls were as wild as young goats on the arrival of a new governess from Edinburgh. Before she got to the front door a large deer-hound seized her muff and took it from her; her eldest pupil appeared at once and presented her with it, after scolding the dog in Gaelic.
(Note: Modern spelling is deoch-an-doris.)
About 1824 the Caledonian Canal was opened, and after this our first boat-load of coals arrived at Glengarry; formerly nothing was burned but peat. My father had a large and handsome barge built, and that same year I remember seeing the first two hives of bees arrive. My father was very anxious for everything that would ameliorate the condition of his people; he had an intense liking for all national things, which I inherited.
Without shops, the advent of a packman was hailed with delight, and justified our vanishing from the presence of the governess. The only other excusable occasion was a dogfight: at the first sound we were off and in the thick of the battle, to rescue a visitor's dog from the fangs of the deer-hounds; we had many of them, my father being very fond of deer-stalking.
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| Sir Walter Scott with Maida |
It was he who presented Sir Walter Scott with "Maida", his favourite stag-hound, named after the tattle in which my uncle, Lieut-Col. Sir James Macdonell fought. It was this same uncle who held the gates of Hougoumont at Waterloo.
This dog was Sir Walter's chief favourite, was often painted along with him, and died at Abbotsford in 1824 and was buried underneath the "leaping-on-stone", with this couplet inscribed:—
"Beneath the sculptured form which late you wore,
Sleep soundly, Maida, at your master's door."
"Beneath the sculptured form which late you wore,
Sleep soundly, Maida, at your master's door."
We were in the habit of going to Perth for the winter. One season, in the end of November, my mother, fearing more snow, ordered twenty men with shovels to start early to clear the road, but more fell after we left. Papa sent a message from the first carriage we were all to get out and walk. One of the maids fell into a wreath, and papa made a joke of her requiring two handsome fellows to pull her out. The frost was very keen, and our wet clothes froze; the fringe at the foot of my brother's Glengarry in Waverley tartan trousers was hanging in icicles, and my second youngest sister was ready to cry with the intensity of the cold, but was told it would be worse for her then, as the tears would freeze on her cheeks.
My father started for Edinburgh with my two eldest sisters, a great storm arose, and the steamer was wrecked. On leaping on a rock he struck his head, and he died of brain fever that night (January 17th, 1828), and was buried on February 1st with all Highland honours. To the admirers of Scott it was well known my father was the prototype of "Fergus McIvor". His character was such as Sir Walter delighted to portray; and in the Procost, by Gault, there is an account of my father at the coronation of George IV.
Fergus McIvor is on the right...
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| Merchiston Castle |
After our father's death we came to reside at Merchiston Castle, near Edinburgh.
We soon came to consider the confinement quite dreadful, and began to wonder how long it would take us to run some three hundred miles back to Glengarry again, so we measured how often round the battlements made a mile.
We started with as many bits of wood in our hands, leaving a piece each time we came to our starting-point. On these battlements we might sing our Gaelic songs as much and as loud as we liked. One day our governess was told by a friend that he had been quite startled when walking on the road by singing in the air, which no doubt emanated from the battlements.
Perhaps my first bee-memory was at Glengarry, when I saw a swarm proceed from our green-painted bee-house, and watched them taking up their quarters in the roof of the mansion-house, whence they were with some difficulty dislodged by the gardener.
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| This is Cotton's book. Charles Cotton. |
We came to live in Bute in '41, and in '46 we bought a couple of hives near Mount Stuart, and used Cotton's book as our guide. Our efforts in bee-culture at that time were not successful, after a long and varied experience, purchasing all sorts of hives and quite overloaded with bee-gear.
In 1878 we made the acquaintance of the gentleman who writes in your columns as "A Renfrewshire Bee-keeper," and he kindly invited my sister and me to pay him a visit, which we did, and he showed us his apiary, and explained everything to our entire satisfaction.
We saw his Scotch-made embossed wax machine, which he told us was stereotyped from the original German sheets long years before the American rollers were invented, or the words "Comb Foundation" coined.
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| Stewarton Hive |
My sister was the first to set up a Stewarton colony, and I followed. They proved a great success, and we had the pleasure of exhibiting our beautiful supers at Rothesay Show.
The "Renfrewshire Bee-keeper " kindly gave us in 1880 the use of his trained boy, and he quite charmed us; so much so, we begged the loan of Peter again, and for that Saturday invited a few friends to a garden party at Lochna-Gaoidh to witness his doings.
The little fellow gave a few puffs of smoke from his brown-paper roll, doffed a cover, drew the slides, and explained it was necessary to give the bees time to supply themselves with food, then raised the frames, and handed them about, showing the queen and all the internal economy of the hive—and such an expert was he that he restored everything to its original condition without a sting to any one. Eleven years have sped past, and though Peter Kerr is now a full-fledged engineer, he comes to assist me still.
My Renfrewshire friend kindly ordered for me a similar Observatory to his own. It was setup in the drawing-room at Loch-na-Qaoidh, since removed to my present house in Rothesay. Nothing affords me greater pleasure on a holiday than having the teachers and children of my initiatory school up for a bee-lesson—our School Board teachers and children, too. They are then shown how loyal the bees are to their queen, forming a body-guard around her, court etiquette practiced, retiring backwards before her. Each bee is prepared, if need be, to go forth and lay down its life "in defense of Queen and country".
There are no strikes in the beehive. They are too clannish for that; short shrift for the agitator there. They could not brook to see the honey drift past their own into other waxen kingdoms.
There are no strikes in the beehive. They are too clannish for that; short shrift for the agitator there. They could not brook to see the honey drift past their own into other waxen kingdoms.
1891 - Mr. Love's Long Life With Bees
This article from the British Bee Journal & Bee-keepers Adviser celebrates the good man, John Love, as a beekeeper. I have been getting an article about him as a famous grower of pinks when I got lured away by bee. Pinks are coming! I have added illustrations when I was curious to know about something (if I could find any). I would have liked Mr. Love as a neighbor.
OUR PROMINENT BEE-KEEPERS.
No. 30—MR. JOHN LOVE.
We have much pleasure in giving this week the portrait and a biographical sketch of the veteran bee-keeper, Mr. John Love. Born in the village of Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire, on 10th April, 1806, bred a hand-loom weaver, as were his father and grandfather, three Johns in line, he maybe said to have been a born beekeeper, as he remembers a saying of his father's -that in the old garden the hum of the bee had been heard without a break for sixty years.
Of middle height, fair complexion, with high colour, the fringe of pretty, fair, silky hair below his wide-awake behind, this 'yellow-haired laddie' of eighty-five summers is frequently taken by the stranger as wearing on to seventy.
If the sentence above made you read it twice, be it known that "The wide-awake, a broad-brimmed felt hat with a lowish crown, was a countryman's hat". (I thank the source! I remember acutely doing research in pre-computer days. I think the magic of the web will never dull for me.)
Still remarkably nimble and fleet of foot, of a very amiable disposition, his laugh is as nappy and jubilant now as I believe it to have been when, a boy of nine, he remembers listening to accounts read from the papers of the glorious victory of Waterloo. For many years an exemplary Presbyterian elder, growing deafness (his only infirmity) prevents him now from performing all the duties of the office. So healthy has he been that only once during his
long life, for a fever, has he required medical advice. He married, 12th August, 1833, Mary Climie, daughter of a weaver's agent in his own village, and has been blessed by a numerous offspring.
A few years after his marriage the subject of our sketch moved to Mount Pleasant, beautifully situated on rising ground above the village, and occupied jointly with his brother-in-law, the upper flat as their dwelling house — workshops below, a good garden behind.
The passer-by could not but be attracted by the bee-house, a neat model of a two-storied dwelling-house, complete to the sweep on the chimney. The numerous odd hives of the two dwellings were cosily placed in sheltered nooks under the many crafted fruit-trees. The floral display of roses, herbaceous plants, &c. was very fine but in their season the bed of pinks was the great attraction.
Mr. Love for many years was the acknowledged Scottish champion 'pink' grower. Upstairs his stuffed specimens of natural history reflected great credit on our friend's taste and neathandedness in another direction.
It has been recorded in these pages long ago, when the Italian bee was newly imported, how a petition was couched in respectable verse from the Kilbarchan fraternity for leave to inspect the new bee: the writer of it was Mr. Robert Climie, Mr. Love's brother-in-law.
Alas! that deputation has all passed away save Mr. Love.
Curious how the poetic vein descends, coming out in the children and grandchildren of Mr. Love. Robert Climie's end, some twenty years ago, was very affecting. He was invited over to a neighbouring village to examine the bees of a married daughter of Mr. Love. A non-smoker himself, he administered a whiff of the pipe, said to his niece he felt sick, and would never touch that vile pipe again, retiring to an inner room, where she in a little while found him kneeling by the sofa in prayer, in which posture his gentle spirit passed away. The funeral was largely attended, service in the open air, a beautiful spring day, the woods of Glentyan across the strath, and the village nestling in the hollow, bees out in force—very touching to beekeepers present to see his little favourites hover over the pall and odd ones resting on it, as if taking a long farewell of the old master ere his remains were borne away.
Time brings its changes, the kindly old Laird dies, the estate is sold, and Mr. Love after an occupancy of thirty-eight years has to move his looms into the smoky atmosphere of the town of Paisley, where he and an unmarried daughter bravely struggle on, plying their shuttles side by side. In the interim, first the partner of his joys and sorrows, then his youngest and fairest flower, droop and die. Gladly he accepts an offer to take charge of a cottage and pony, grow and dispose of a large fruit-garden crop in the island of Bute. Rarely do we find a man at seventy-six so cheerily abandon his life-work, and begin to earn his bread by his hobby.
Time brings its changes, the kindly old Laird dies, the estate is sold, and Mr. Love after an occupancy of thirty-eight years has to move his looms into the smoky atmosphere of the town of Paisley, where he and an unmarried daughter bravely struggle on, plying their shuttles side by side. In the interim, first the partner of his joys and sorrows, then his youngest and fairest flower, droop and die. Gladly he accepts an offer to take charge of a cottage and pony, grow and dispose of a large fruit-garden crop in the island of Bute. Rarely do we find a man at seventy-six so cheerily abandon his life-work, and begin to earn his bread by his hobby.
The hill-top is at last gained; there, bareheaded as usual, busy among his strawberries, stands our hero. The joy at meeting! 'Why, John, you look like an old eagle perched on this hill-top!' The bees and honey prospects are discussed, and the tremendous crop on his gifted young Caledonian plum-trees presented by John; a branch promised and hamper followed.
By return of post the hit-off thanks :—
"Through wind and rain your basket came
In safety—it is here.
'Twas careful hands that packed it
With its richly-laden store.
I never can repay you, But I thank you o'er and o'er, For there are deeds of friendship Words may not all impart,Their sterling worth, as deep they sink Into our inmost heart.
Then, once again I thank you From here, my mountain home,And, one and all, I wish you joy In the year that is to come.'
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| The Stewarton: The Hive for the busy man |
The above lady takes an enthusiastic interest in the bee and the silkworm.
A handsome mahogany rotating observatory ornaments her drawing room, and the supers from her gigantic Stewartons overtopped everything at the Rothesay Exhibition.
She also takes a warm interest in the cause of religion and education, in maintaining the purity of worship in the National Church; is thoroughly practical, projected and supports an Initiatory School where poor boys are taught the ground-work of religion, besides the ability to sew on buttons or patches on their jackets.
At the School Board she has sat for nearly six years, the only lady, and heroically defends her position with as much determination as did her illustrious uncle the gates of Hougoumont at Waterloo.
Three verses are extracted from a letter or Mr. Love's on another occasion:—
'I will whisper my tale to the Yule-log As I muse in its ruddy glow,As here again comes Christmas, With its holly and mistletoe.*****
'Tes! that is the tale I whisper, As I muse in the firelight glow,As I sit, in the hush of the evening.
And think on long ago;
'On the happy home of my childhood, On the friends I held so dear:One by one they have left us,*****
They are no longer here.'
After a five years' residence in Bute he came back to Kilbarchan, and the bees and pinks are safely flitted to his present garden. After the labours of the week are over, it is a much
anticipated pleasure on the Saturday half-holiday, skimming over the four miles that part our dwellings. The newest ideas in bee-keeping are discussed, the last bed of pinks planted by himself seen to, and the latest-come herbaceous plant criticized; and if in autumn the fruit-crop is peculiarly interesting — those 'Bouquet trees, the waxy purity of the white 'celestial' apple flanked on either side, same tree, by branches of the scarlet or striped varieties successively.
He often ejaculates, "It bates a!"
How comes such heavy crops? Your good grafting and the fertilizing powers of our little friends, the bees?
"Nae doot, nae doot!"
One fine Saturday afternoon autumn was a twelvemonth, we were favoured by a visit from 'Our Editor,' pointing out to him how "history repeats itself", our old Japanese lion, worshipped for 3000 years, had been peopled that season by a colony of humble-bees as Samson's was, the subject of our sketch arrived and the pleasure of that introduction he will never forget.
"Nae doot, nae doot!"
One fine Saturday afternoon autumn was a twelvemonth, we were favoured by a visit from 'Our Editor,' pointing out to him how "history repeats itself", our old Japanese lion, worshipped for 3000 years, had been peopled that season by a colony of humble-bees as Samson's was, the subject of our sketch arrived and the pleasure of that introduction he will never forget.
Bee Swarm Humor from One Hundred Years Ago
Nothing much has changed when it comes to dealing with swarms!
1889 - A Visit to Mr. Manum's Marvelous Addison County Apiary!
It is always a joy to encounter someone who excels at some worthy pursuit! Mr. Manum was one of these individuals and his contributions to apiarists were considerable. A. E. Manum was a more scientific beekeeper than many of his contemporaries.
The entrance is through the stand underneath the brood chamber and cannot be clogged by snow, is protected from rain, and by means of a slide can be graduated from two inches long by three-eighths of an inch wide in winter to fourteen inches long by two inches wide—the full summer width when the slide is removed.
Figure 4 shows a Crane clamp of seven two-pound sections, with the separaters.
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| www.addisoncounty.com |
Addison County, Vermont, celebrated for its pure-bred Merino sheep and horses, also stands high as a honey producing region. The heavy clay soil favors an abundant growth of white clover, which usually yields large quantities of the finest honey. Basswood trees also abound. The surplus honey yield being of short duration and very heavy, allows quick work by the bees, which insures delicate white comb and, with good management, completely filled boxes. This, with its fine quality, gives Addison comb honey its justly-deserved reputation.
Numerous farmers and a few specialists scattered about the county keep bees. In some cases 200 colonies are kept in one yard with good results, while from forty to 100 is the usual number. Many with no love for the pursuit, but who have engaged in it simply for the dollars and cents to be made by following the instructions of leading bee masters, have found it as profitable or more so than any other branch of their farm work, and now market their ton or two of comb honey yearly. The specialists who run a number of large yards in different locations and make it their principal business, have also been successful in securing from ten to twenty tons of honey in a single good season.
The most extensive apiarist in this section and probably the one having the largest number of colonies in New England is A. E. Manum. He commenced in 1870 with two colonies and, although like other beekeepers he soon found that a good season was usually followed by a poor one, his success led him to extend the business, and in the spring of 1885 he had in five different yards 470 colonies. That season was an unusual one, and he obtained from them nineteen tons of comb honey and three tons of extracted honey, and an increase in bees, making 850 colonies in the fall. This large crop was nearly all gathered in twelve days, and one of the best colonies on scales at Yard No. 2, while working on basswood, gathered in one day thirty-three pounds and in four days 124 pounds. The largest yield from one hive was 228 pounds of comb honey. His greatest yield in 1883 was 312 pounds of comb honey from the bees in one hive.
The most extensive apiarist in this section and probably the one having the largest number of colonies in New England is A. E. Manum. He commenced in 1870 with two colonies and, although like other beekeepers he soon found that a good season was usually followed by a poor one, his success led him to extend the business, and in the spring of 1885 he had in five different yards 470 colonies. That season was an unusual one, and he obtained from them nineteen tons of comb honey and three tons of extracted honey, and an increase in bees, making 850 colonies in the fall. This large crop was nearly all gathered in twelve days, and one of the best colonies on scales at Yard No. 2, while working on basswood, gathered in one day thirty-three pounds and in four days 124 pounds. The largest yield from one hive was 228 pounds of comb honey. His greatest yield in 1883 was 312 pounds of comb honey from the bees in one hive.
The following illustration and indented description are NOT from this article. I thought they added to it, however.
No. 1.—This picture shows A. E. Manum's sidehill apiary. This spot was selected because the ground is descending, thus affording good drainage and Mr. Manum thinks the bees can locate their hives better in such a place, especially the young queens when they go out to mate; and as every hive can be seen from the honey-house, the attendant can be watching for swarms while working inside. It must not be supposed that this hill is very steep, as the picture would lead one to think, as the descent is very slight; neither are the hives arranged on the amphitheater plan, but are set In straight rows. Mr. Manum has three apiaries on level ground, and he finds the water from melting snow often makes it too damp for the bees; hence his preference for a slope.
As an offset to this and the previous good years, each season since 1885 has been a poor one, and his bees have not paid expenses. With a few exceptions in favored localities, beekeepers everywhere have fared the same, although three such poor seasons in succession are unparalleled in the history of the industry in this country.
Mr. Manum’s out-apiaries are from two to sixteen miles from the home yard, and the accompanying engravings present an idea of their arrangement and surroundings. The long rows of symmetrical and neatly-painted hives covering a hillside or appearing from among the trees of an orchard arrest attention and excite interest. In the lower left-hand corner is a view in the home apiary at swarming time, showing three swarms clustered on catchers, and Mr. Manum about to carry one to its new hive. The upper picture is a view of the Sincon apiary, on Yard No. 6, now moved to a more favorable location; and in the lower right-hand corner is a winter scene at the home apiary.
At the start Mr. Manum tried all the different hives and studied and experimented to get the best for practical work. By combining, modifying and inventing new features he turned out that which met his ideas and which with a system of management suited to it is now used in all his apiaries and many others.
The hive is double-walled and consists of a stand, inner hive 0r brood chamber and an outer case (see Figs. 2 and 3).
The outer case is movable and is in three separate sections. The roof is of clapboards. In each gable is a two-inch auger hole for ventilation. This is protected by a wire cloth funnel projecting outward, which allows the bees to leave one at a time, but not to enter. This is an important proviso when bees are hastily shut in or when surplus honey is removed. The three inch space between the walls is filled with chaff or sawdust, which is allowed to remain winter and summer. When damp, it can be readily replaced. Having so many loose parts, the hive can be moved without heavy lifting, and when properly packed is sufficient protection from New England winters. The hive stands rest on two lengths of joist to keep them off the ground, and are set perfectly level. Hives once located are not afterward moved unless carried away from the yard.
The brood chamber is covered by a board, when the sections for honey are not in place, and contains twelve hanging frames twelve inches long by nine-and-one-half inches deep. The surplus arrangement consists of cases, at one end of which are a follower and wood screw by which the sections are tightly clamped together. Each section is supplied with a full sheet of foundation and between each row are placed thin wood separators to insure perfect combs.
Figure 4 shows a Crane clamp of seven two-pound sections, with the separaters.
Figure 5 illustrates the Bristol clamp of sixteen one-pound sections, one of which is raised and shows the sheet of foundation in place.
Mr. Manum was probably the first to make a white poplar dovetailed section, which is not so much used.
Previous to this they were of pine, and made to nail. This section. put together with glue, is not only the strongest but the neatest section in use.
Two of the Bristol clamps cover the brood chamber and can be tiered up as high as desired.
Figure 3 shows the hive with the outer case removed and three Crane clamps in position.
Mr. Manum has lately discarded all but one-pound sections. When filled with finished combs, the cases are disconnected from the brood chamber, and before they are removed to the honey house the bees find their way out at the bee escape in the gable. A cord and a simple device allows the hive cover to be tipped back instead of having to lift them bodily when opened.
The hives are five feet from each other in rows twelve feet apart. To prevent upsetting by heavy storms in winter, a large cord is thrown across the roof and fastened to a stake driven in the ground on each side. During the winter everything needed in the summer campaign is prepared ready to be quickly supplied to the different yards by the teams which are then constantly on the road. In the spring at certain intervals Mr. Manum and his assistants spend a day in each apiary giving that aid to colonies which is so important.
The hives are five feet from each other in rows twelve feet apart. To prevent upsetting by heavy storms in winter, a large cord is thrown across the roof and fastened to a stake driven in the ground on each side. During the winter everything needed in the summer campaign is prepared ready to be quickly supplied to the different yards by the teams which are then constantly on the road. In the spring at certain intervals Mr. Manum and his assistants spend a day in each apiary giving that aid to colonies which is so important.
These rounds are made more and more often until the swarming season is about to commence, when one competent person is placed in charge and is in constant attendance for six or eight weeks, or until the honey season is over. Board is usually obtained at the farm house near which the yard is located, and the help are continually employed in hiving swarms, putting on or taking off boxes and in attending to other necessary details.
As experienced men are not always to be had, many knowing nothing of the business must be taught, and as they usually commence for themselves as soon as really competent, this instruction must be given again and again. After a few weeks instruction some are able to do nicely the remainder of the season with occasional looking after. Women are also employed, and one who did not know a queen from a drone when she commenced, took entire charge of 116 colonies the second season.
At each apiary there is a building containing a honey room where clamps of honey are temporarily stored, and a work room where fixtures not in use are also housed. In each yard one hive stands on scales, of which a close watch is kept after the clover and basswood blossoms open. On the front of every hive in plain black figures is the colony’s number, while inside is a record of the colony, its origin, age of queen, date of each examination that season and their condition when examined. This is written in abbreviated characters on a piece of section or smooth board and laid on the packing.
At each apiary there is a building containing a honey room where clamps of honey are temporarily stored, and a work room where fixtures not in use are also housed. In each yard one hive stands on scales, of which a close watch is kept after the clover and basswood blossoms open. On the front of every hive in plain black figures is the colony’s number, while inside is a record of the colony, its origin, age of queen, date of each examination that season and their condition when examined. This is written in abbreviated characters on a piece of section or smooth board and laid on the packing.
The apiarist also keeps in a book a list of the colonies casting swarms, and of those requiring special attention at a certain time. The wings of all queens are clipped to prevent their going off with the swarms. When the latter attempt to leave, they are caught by an arrangement consisting of a wire cloth cage fastened to a pole. It is made to stand anywhere by two legs, which fold up when not in use. A sufficient number of these are always at hand. When a swarm issues, the queen is caught on the ground near the hive and placed in the cage of the catcher, which is stood or held in the midst of or near the flying swarm, and the bees soon settle upon it, as seen in Figure 1.
They are then left, and attention is given to the others, which usually issue at about the same time. If the swarm has gone some distance, or clustered in the top of a tall tree. it will soon return, as it is without a queen. So the catcher containing their queen is stood in front of the hive from which they came, and as they return they find her and cluster upon it. To make this more certain, the entrance of the old hive is covered with a cloth.
This plan differs from that of most beekeepers and enables Mr. Manum to quickly handle many swarms. In hiving, when time is more plenty, about a third of each swarm is shaken back in front of the old hive and the balance of two or three swarms, with one queen, is hived in a new hive. As this makes a powerful working colony in the new hive, abundant room in sections is immediately given.
A close watch is kept of the apiary, and more storage room is added as fast as used to advantage, and the filled clamps are removed as soon as they are completely sealed. A large crop can be cut off from communication with the brood chamber in a short time, and when free from bees is carried to the honey room and afterward carted to the central honey house. It is then scraped clean of propolis by women and girls, and after being graded is stored in the honey room to ripen.
A close watch is kept of the apiary, and more storage room is added as fast as used to advantage, and the filled clamps are removed as soon as they are completely sealed. A large crop can be cut off from communication with the brood chamber in a short time, and when free from bees is carried to the honey room and afterward carted to the central honey house. It is then scraped clean of propolis by women and girls, and after being graded is stored in the honey room to ripen.
In the fall, wood sides of white poplar instead of glass are fastened to each section, and they are shipped to market in white poplar crates holding two one-pound sections. Sections full of nice white comb, those full of darker combs and those light in weight, are each crated separately and the crates are marked “Green Mountain,” “Comb Honey” and "Light Weight," according to contents. A few of the very best and most perfect are selected from the first quality and go as the “Snow Flake” brand.
As most of the crop is secured as surplus and but little is gathered after its removal, that remaining below is no more than the bees need during the season. Therefore, to keep them alive until spring, each colony must in early fall have its ration of sugar syrup. This season twenty-eight barrels of the best granulated sugar were required to insure sufficient winter food. For feeders, maple syrup cans with small holes punched in their bottoms are used. Three short legs of tin raise them enough to give the bees room to get at the holes. These cans are filled with syrup and set over a hole in the cover of the hive, and are renewed until the proper amount of food is consumed.
After the honey season, instead of a constant attendant at the out-yards. frequent visits are made, as in the spring, and are continued until the bees are snug for winter. Then an occasional trip is made on a warm day when the bees can fly to see that all entrances are clear.
Mr. Manum has, at present, about 700 colonies in eight different yards. The number in each is limited to 125 in the fall. The colonies in excess of this number are either sold or carried to a new location. For this work a double and a single team are used. By the use of rocks which hold a second tier the former takes fifty colonies and the latter twenty-three colonies. Before loading, the frames are immovably fixed and a sheet of muslin is tacked over the brood chamber to give air, while in very warm weather a rim covered with wire cloth is necessary to their safety.
As most of the crop is secured as surplus and but little is gathered after its removal, that remaining below is no more than the bees need during the season. Therefore, to keep them alive until spring, each colony must in early fall have its ration of sugar syrup. This season twenty-eight barrels of the best granulated sugar were required to insure sufficient winter food. For feeders, maple syrup cans with small holes punched in their bottoms are used. Three short legs of tin raise them enough to give the bees room to get at the holes. These cans are filled with syrup and set over a hole in the cover of the hive, and are renewed until the proper amount of food is consumed.
After the honey season, instead of a constant attendant at the out-yards. frequent visits are made, as in the spring, and are continued until the bees are snug for winter. Then an occasional trip is made on a warm day when the bees can fly to see that all entrances are clear.
Mr. Manum has, at present, about 700 colonies in eight different yards. The number in each is limited to 125 in the fall. The colonies in excess of this number are either sold or carried to a new location. For this work a double and a single team are used. By the use of rocks which hold a second tier the former takes fifty colonies and the latter twenty-three colonies. Before loading, the frames are immovably fixed and a sheet of muslin is tacked over the brood chamber to give air, while in very warm weather a rim covered with wire cloth is necessary to their safety.
Mr. Manum’s bees are most Italians, although in some apiaries there is a touch of Black and Holy Land blood. He is about to test a few Carniolan queens. The working queens are raised from the best Italian hives, which are selected out of this large number as possessing unusual excellences. I saw many fine large queens a shade darker than the average Italians, having very plump and thick-set bodies. I each yard, distributed among the regular hives, were many nucleus colonies - the temporary quarters of surplus queens.
Mr. Manum has planted honey-producing crops in a limited scale, but is not certain that they can be made to pay.
LINKS:
LINKS:
- Nice photos and article in the Burlington Free Press.
1887 - Chapman's Honey-plant: #4 of Root's Bee Plants -letter from Manum at end of post
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