File:American bee journal (1914) (17928525498).jpg

Title: American bee journal
Identifier: americanbeejourn541914hami (find matches)
Year: 1861 (1860s)
Authors:
Subjects: Bee culture; Bees
Publisher: (Hamilton, Ill. , etc. , Dadant & Sons)
Contributing Library: UMass Amherst Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: UMass Amherst Libraries

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90 American 'See JonrnaT;
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An Experimental Apiary at Gergy. France. altogether too heavy for the fine roads of Europe. Our light buggies, with wheels made of hickory wood, would create a sensation, for nothing as light is seen anywhere. The traveling carts of the peasants could carry a ton or more without breaking down, and do not wear out as our light rigs do. But what a waste of energy and horse flesh in drawing those heavy vehicles over those magnificent roads! Burgundy is beautiful. Every road is lined with poplars or elms, well trimmed and kept under control. Rape, clover, the silver-leaf linden abound. The woods are full of flowers. Every forest is divided into a certain number of areas, and each is cut down in turn, retaining the finest trees for further growth. No cattle are allowed to range in the young timber. The re- sult is a very thick growth of trees which permits the harboring of game. For that reason the wild boar is still to be found, just as it was in the time of Walter Scott's heroes. I was as- tonished to find that our host, who is 68 years old and weighs 240 pounds, was still an active hunter and fisher- man. He gave us a sample of what he could do by taking us to the Saone river and there, from a little row-boat such as we have on the Mississippi, throwing a large " cast net " from his shoulder, while standing up at the stern of the boat. He caught a fine fry of gudgeons and a few American sunfishes which have lately been raised in French waters. During the trip to Beaune, with our host, we saw the silver-leaf linden in full bloom. It is much later than our Illinois lindens, but this spot is at the 47th degree while our central Illinois is at the 40th. Their hillsides are mostly in vineyards, and were it not for the pastures and meadows, there would be but little honey production in the mountain portions. Up the hills we went, among the vineyards, till we reached the park and castle of Mandelot, the property of an aged retired merchant, Mr. Bouchard. While the old gentleman himself es- corted Mrs. Dadant to the flower and vegetable gardens and to the hothouse, we visited the apiarv from which the manager was extracting honey. They use the DeLayens hive ; what we would call here a "long-idea" hive. It con- tains but a single story, with from 20 to 30 frames about 12 by 13 inches. They prefer this system on account of its simplicity. They have no supers. The honey is all extracted. It is re- tailed in tin pails and small earthen jars holding a kilogram or more. The kilogram is 2.2 pounds. We opened a 30-frame hive, every comb of which was full. The bees were mainly hybrids. A magnificent lunch was served to us in the dining-room of the castle, from the products of the farm ; milk, cream, cheese, butter, honey of course, fruits of every sort in spite of the short crop, and the inevitable and palatable champagne wine, with enormous home- baked cakes, served on a table ('< feet in width. At Savigny, on the other side of the mountain, we found more bees, and as hearty a reception. Mr. Vallot, located at this spot, is a manufacturer of bee- hives on a small scale. His apiary, on a steep hillside, is among the vines. Often the vines are trained on single stakes and rarely arranged in rows, for cultivation. Nearly all the tilling is done with the hoe or mattock. There does not appear to be any desire to save hand labor. It would take too long to tell of all the apiaries which we visited during those two days. We have already spoken, in our September number, page 2!)5, of our visit to Dracy and Chalon. We were feasted everywhere, rather too much. We had breakfast before starting at 5 o'clock, a lunch at 10, dinner at 1, another lunch at 5, and supper at our return at 8 p.m. Five meals, all but the first and last in differ- ent places ! We were " going some." During all this time the weather was cool, so cool that Mrs. Champion loaned some furs to my wife, to ride in the early morning. Furs in July! The air was bracing, the view beautiful. Those winding, smooth, white roads are lined with tall poplars. The little rivulets, flowing towards the larger Saone, among the fields, are regularly shaded with willows. The small fields, parceled out, all over France, like a lot of pocket handkerchiefs spread in the sun, are of various shades, from the deep green of the potato field, through the golden of the ripening wheat to the red of blooming clover, and the white of the buckwheat. And to still farther

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