CHAPTER IX
TELLS OF BEES AND BUGS
They had not gone more than half the distance to Green Hill Farm before Belle called their attention to a man who was hiving a swarm of honeybees.
“I wonder if bees are hard to keep?” said Belle.
“Not very, and they are the most interesting of all domestic farm-life,” returned Miss Mason.
“How do you know that?” asked Janet, eagerly.
“We watched a bee-farmer in the country, one summer, and the stories he told of his bees, and the intelligence they manifested, won my admiration of them. I’ve always wanted to try a few hives and see if I could make friends with them and raise a bee family.”
“There is something in the scout book about bees,” reminded Natalie.
“Yes, you can win a badge by passing the test. But it is not that, so much, as the fact that you have a fine farm and plenty of room for bees. It is a shame not to have them,” said Miss Mason.
When the car drove in at the side-gate, the girls found the scouts from Solomon’s Seal Camp waiting on the porch for news of the adventure. With them sat Dorothy Ames, Nancy Sherman, and Hester Tompkins. Their interest in the day’s trip proved their interest in the corporation with one cow for an asset.
There was wild rejoicing when it was learned that a fine little cow with the name of Sue, was purchased and would come to Green Hill on Saturday to live. Then they heard about the little calf which Janet claimed for herself. Planning for the comfort of the cow and calf continued until Rachel came out to say: “Stead of doing so much talkin’ why don’ you-all go to the barns and ack on your idees. Dat cow-shed what’s there now ain’t fit fer nuttin!”
Laughing at this practical admonition from Rachel, the troop of girls went to the barn to consult with Sam about making a nice new shed for Corporation Sue.
The next morning the girls from the house visited the scouts at the camp to discuss further the idea of keeping bees. Miss Mason got out the handbook and turned to the page where it speaks of bee-keeping. She read aloud:
“Now, girls,” concluded Miss Mason, “I suggest that Janet have first choice to decide whether she wishes to start a bee colony, or whether she waives her right as the stock-farmer scout and prefers to join us in keeping bees.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of bees, Miss Mason. I’ll have so much to do after Susy comes, with all the rest of my live-stock, that taking care of bees will be out of the question,” said Janet.
“Then we can add another asset to our scout corporation and get some bees to start a colony, eh?” ventured Miss Mason.
“Isn’t it rather late in the season to start bees?” asked Natalie.
“Not too late to secure a hive of some one else’s bees. What difference does it make whether the bees are with us or with some one else?” said Janet.
“I don’t know exactly, but I’ve heard that bees hate to be moved about,” returned Natalie.
Then Mrs. James explained: “Bees are very sensitive to environment. And a careful bee-farmer will not move his hives to any strange locality after the inmates are accustomed to certain familiar surroundings. If he has to do any moving he manages to do it in winter, or when the bees swarm.”
“I’ve seen a colony of bees disintegrate and leave home to become tramp-bees, or join other colonies—although the latter act is not common or popular with bees. They are very conservative and seldom associate with bees of other colonies,” added Miss Mason.
“Then how would it be possible for us to get the bees?” asked Norma.
“We would have to secure a swarm which has not yet been accustomed to an environment, but one which will accept a new home without wandering away looking for the old hive,” said Mrs. James.
“Yes, that is what I was going to suggest—that we find a new swarm, nearby, and bring it to the farm to live,” added Miss Mason.
“Mrs. Tompkins has bees and they just love her flower-garden,” said Norma.
“Maybe Mrs. Tompkins can tell us if she expects a new swarm very shortly. Or she may know of a farmer who has just hived a swarm,” suggested Natalie, eagerly.
“I say, let’s decide where we will stand the bee-hives when we get them,” said Janet, practically.
“We can walk over to the gardens and look for a sunny sheltered spot,” ventured Miss Mason.
“And we can authorize Frances to find out from Mrs. Tompkins whether she has any swarms, or knows of one that can be purchased by us,” added Belle.
So they all started for the gardens to decide upon a suitable place to keep the bee-hives should they be able to buy any. It did not take long to choose the spot along the fence that divided the garden from the pasture lot. There was a row of fruit trees in a line alongside this fence, and they would not only offer the shade from a burning sun in summer, but also provide nectar and pollen in the spring when the blossoms were blowing, and they also afforded resting-places for home-coming laden bees, or for swarms which might wish to locate near the hive.
Being so near the vegetable gardens, Miss Mason suggested that Natalie show them how her gardens were doing. Always glad to display her knowledge and experience in gardening, Natalie led the way.
The first bed they reached held the lettuce plants discarded by Mr. Ames and left for Natalie to transplant. They had flourished in spite of the interference from Janet’s chickens, and now they looked very green and tempting.
“The lettuce is large enough to pull whenever Jimmy says we need any at the house,” remarked Natalie, proudly.
“Oh, hardly! I should say it would need another week’s growth, Natalie, before being worth pulling,” said Mrs. James.
“We—ll, maybe it will take until Sunday, but surely it will be ready then,” was Natalie’s reluctant admission.
The girls praised the lima beans, and the dwarf beans, and the beets, and all the other growing greens, but truth to tell they knew not one vegetable from another until Natalie or Mrs. James pointed them out by name.
Then they came to the potato hills. The curly-topped little plants looked very pretty in their dark green ruffled leaves. Natalie was delighted with them and began describing how the seed of a potato was obtained. In following Natalie’s motions at the hills, Mrs. James saw something on one of the leaves of the plant just beside her. She stooped and plucked off the bug.
“Here’s a potato bug, Natalie. You’ll have to protect your vines from the beetle that is so destructive.”
At that, Natalie stooped too, and examined several leaves, and the rest of the scouts looked eagerly for the beetles. They found many of the pests on the under side of the leaves, busily at work feeding on the tender greens.
“The horrid little things! What can I do to them?” cried Natalie, horrified at seeing so many bugs.
“You must kill them or they’ll eat all the leaves which are the only sources of light and fresh air provided for the tiny tubers already forming under the surface of the ground. These Colorado beetles lay eggs on the underside of the leaves and these soon hatch out additional bugs so that very soon the entire field is infested with them. The time to get rid of them is when the potato plants are still very small, as these are,” explained Mrs. James.
“Dear me, Jimmy, I can’t bear to touch them, so how can I ever kill them all?” Natalie shuddered as she spoke.
“We’ll have to order some Paris Green from Four Corners and prepare a solution to cover the leaves. It can be applied with a squirt-gun, and it is quite simple to do.”
“I’ll go with Frances at once, and bring back the stuff,” was Natalie’s emphatic declaration.
The girls then left the gardens and Frances went to get out the car to drive to Four Corners. Meantime, Janet went to the barn yard with a few of the girls, to have a look at the fowl and pigs. While she was there, Janet took a peep in the nests and found two more eggs.
“Isn’t this great! The hens are laying splendidly now, and I am keeping the house provided with fresh eggs every day,” said she, exultantly.
Then they went to the house, Janet carrying a precious egg in each hand. As she came up to the back stoop she saw Rachel in the kitchen and called to her.
“Look, Rachel! Two more eggs. Isn’t that fine?”
Rachel came out on the stoop and smiled: “It shore am, honey. Putty soon you’ll have two dozen to your credit on my books.”
“Well, I guess I’m ’most through with my trials and tribulations now, but poor Nat’s have begun again,” remarked Janet.
“Oh, shucks! All pertatters has bugs. Dat’s no trouble atall. Nat’lie’ll learn some day dat gardenin’ ain’t all fun,” laughed Rachel, as she took the two eggs.
“Natalie’s going to powder them with Paris Green. Is it good for bugs, Rachel?” asked Norma.
“Yeh, best pizen I know of but I done tol Natalie dat it ain’t no good to use at evenin’ or late afternoon. It’s got to be squirted over the leaves when dey is fresh and dewy. Den the powder cakes on and smudders all the eggs and hatchin’ bugs. And it keeps the big fellers f’om flyin’ and gettin’ any more to eat. Dey jus’ has to die.”
Sam come up to the stoop at this moment and added his wisdom to that already expressed by his aunt. “I usta fix up tomater cans last summer on a farm, and we filled ’em half full of kerosene. Den wid little sticks to knock the bugs offen the plants we got dem inside the cans. The ile did the rest for us.”
“Sam, that’s a good idea! If you could fix up some cans for us now, we’d go to work and help drown the bugs,” said Janet.
“It won’t take a minute to rig up the cans,” said Sam.
So he went to the dump-heap back of the woodshed and picked out a number of old cans. He nailed them to long flat sticks and then brought them back to the house to give to the girls who had offered their services to save Natalie’s potatoes.
They had equipped themselves with sticks to use as removers of the beetles, and when they were ready to start for the garden, Janet said: “But where is the kerosene oil, Sam?”
Sam looked up at his aunt and said: “Where is the ile?”
“I ain’t got no ile, son. I doesn’t use ile for ennyt’ng nohow. You’se will have to get some at Fo’h Cornehs.”
But that would take as long to get back to the house as the powder was taking, so the girls placed their novel beetle removers under the steps of the stoop to use at some future time.
It was almost supper time when Natalie returned with the Paris Green and instructions from Mr. Tompkins of how to use it. She also had procured a sprayer to use when the Paris Green was prepared for use.
Before retiring that night Natalie warned Rachel that she was not to allow her to oversleep in the morning. “I want to get up at dawn, Rachie, because the bugs will eat more poison in the early morning than later in the day. And I must clean off my darling little potato vines, you see.”
“Yeh, I see, honey I’ll git up and he’p you some,” promised Rachel as she went upstairs.
Janet was telling about the eggs her hens were now laying, so Rachel chuckled to herself as she left Natalie. When the latter went back to join her friends, Mrs. James was explaining why hens seldom laid as many eggs in rainy weather. She said it was accounted for by some scientists because the earth was damp and the hens could not scratch readily in it.
“That’s why I scattered broken clam-shells in the yard to make the scratching better,” said Janet.
They laughed at this remark, and Mrs. James led the way upstairs to bed. The following morning Natalie was called an hour before breakfast. She hurriedly donned her garden overalls and ran down to the cellar for the Paris Green. Unfortunately, Rachel found her bread dough risen and running over the sides of the pan, so that she had to knead it into the pans before doing anything else.
By the time Natalie had the Paris Green mixed and ready to apply to the vines, Janet and Norma came downstairs to help her. They carried the bucket of poison to the garden and Natalie filled the gun. Then, while one of the girls turned the leaves over, Natalie squirted them thickly with the preparation. The other girl carried the pail of poison as they went from plant to plant.
“This isn’t such hard work, is it?” commented Natalie.
“No, not hard but not very exciting, either,” laughed Norma, who sneezed every time any of the mixture reached her nose.
“We ought to finish the whole potato section before Rach calls us to breakfast,” added Janet.
And so they did. When the work was completed and they stood looking over the hills where tiny green leaves had so recently shown, they now saw the crinkly-edged vines looking like dull blanketed things, they were so heavily laden with Paris Green.
Natalie turned about, gazing at the other vegetables, and Janet laughingly remarked: “Are you looking for ‘more world’s to conquer?’”
“I’m looking at those corn hills where some of the bugs alighted when they got away from us,” said she.
“Well, do you want to dose them, too?” asked Norma.
“We may as well. Then they won’t go on raising families,” replied Natalie. So Paris Green was liberally shot all over the plants wherever a bug was found. Then the girls went back to the house.
“We’ve still got a little poison left, Nat,” said Janet.
“Oh, I think I’ll use it my heliotrope and early asters. I noticed yesterday that they were covered with lice,” remarked Norma.
“All right. You show me where to shoot and we’ll cover the pests with the poison,” offered Natalie.
So Norma held the plants steady while Paris Green was literally piled on top of the crowns and over all the leaves. Then the preparation gave out and the girls had to desist from further work.
Directly after breakfast, Janet was seen coming from the barn yard and with an egg in each hand. She seemed perplexed and when she reached the kitchen stoop she saw the girls watching her.
“This is the queerest thing, yet,” said she.
“What is?” asked several of the girls.
“Why, just before going in to breakfast I ran over to the chicken-coop to see if the hens had laid any eggs and there wasn’t a thing to be seen. They were all out in the yard eating corn. Then after breakfast I had to go back to feed the setting-hen and there I found an egg in each nest. And they are not warm.”
“I don’t think that is strange,” answered Belle. “It doesn’t take a hen very long to lay an egg, you know.”
“No, that is true,” admitted Janet, twisting herself in such a manner that the girls laughed and wondered what she meant.
The girls then went to the side-porch to plan for Sue, but Janet could not sit still. She squirmed and hunched her shoulders in such a way that Natalie finally noticed it and cried:
“Good gracious, Janet! Why don’t you sit still?”
“Yes, Jan, what ails you? Are you nervous?” asked Norma.
“I don’t know what it is, girls, but I have never been in such misery. It must be prickly heat, I guess,” said Janet.
“Go upstairs and use talcum powder profusely,” suggested Belle, “before we start for Four Corners to see about the bees.”
Janet followed this advice and was comfortable for a short time after she rejoined the girls, but then the irritation of the skin began again and she wriggled worse than ever. All the way to Mrs. Tompkins’ house Janet said nothing but did a lot of acting.
Mrs. Tompkins showed her visitors her bee hives and gave them a great deal of useful information about the keeping of bees, then she said: “I’ve been looking for one of my hives to have a swarm every warm day we’ve had, lately, but they still keep on scolding and hanging around, so I imagine they are waiting for a sultry day which will foretell a good electrical storm. You know, bees like to swarm just before a thunder shower?”
The girls did not know this and were curious to know why it was, and Mrs. Tompkins replied that she figured it out her own way, but she had never heard the scientific reason for it.
“I watch the queen-bee and see how clever she is in her plans and movements, then I watch her train the tiny princess bees until they are large enough to start housekeeping for themselves, then I watch and see the queen-bee make her selections from all the workers and drones in the family, and she inspires them with a keen desire to move out of the old hive and find a new home. As the queen bee is the monarch in the hive, they follow and do exactly as she orders them to. She is constantly surrounded by loving guardians and it is impossible for her to ever fly away alone, or have any privacy.
“But she is a wise bee and knows that her workers hate a thunderstorm. A bee seldom flies far from home when rain or an electrical storm is threatened. So the queen bides her time, and when she can foretell a thunder storm hovering near, she starts the swarm going.
“First she manages to escape from her guardians and get out on the running-board of the hive, but her followers are close upon her heels. When she flies up to find a resting place they are close behind. Sometimes she manages to get some distance from the hive before she is overwhelmed with pursuers and brought to a full stop on a tree, or bush, or fence. It generally happens to be on the lower limb of a tree, and it happens more often that the swarm settles near the old hive.
“Once the queen settles on a resting-place all the other bees gather closely around her to prevent her escaping again. They fear she wants to run away from home, so they close in until the poor thing almost smothers. The bees will clasp their antennae through the hooked back-leg of the bee nearest them, and thus form a chain that keeps growing and circling about the cluster around the queen. Sometimes this swarm is so heavy that it falls from sheer weight. But generally the bees hanging on to the bough increase in numbers in order to hold safely aloft the hanging swarm.
“Once the swarm is large enough, it is best for the bee-farmer to gather it into a hive. This is when he beats a drum or a tin pan to imitate thunder. That always frightens the bees and the queen readily leads them into a new home. If a real thunderstorm overtakes the swarm and rain falls heavily before the farmer has gathered the bees into a shelter, he has lost them. For they will scatter and the queen will fly away never to return to the old home.
“Or she may try to re-enter her own old hive and be stung to death by the young queen and her subjects who are now ruling the place. In cases where a princess-queen leaves home to start a swarm, the swarm is never as large or difficult to manage, as the young queen seldom has as many devoted subjects to follow her as an old queen has.”
“Oh, how interesting, Mrs. Tompkins,” exclaimed Janet.
“Yes, we will be glad to have some bees and watch them work,” added Norma.
“If my bees swarm within the next few days I shall be glad to sell it to you. I’ll send word and you can come and get it,” said Mrs. Tompkins, generously.
“How fine! But how do we carry a swarm home?” asked Natalie.
“In your farmer’s hat!” retorted Janet, laughingly.
“Oh, you won’t have to worry over that. I’ll hive the swarm and send the hive right to the farm,” replied Mrs. Tompkins. “But you must be careful to locate them pleasantly, or they may wander off. Bees like plenty of flowers nearby, and the freedom of the fields, yet they want to hear human voices and be able to see their master going about, even if they seldom come in contact with him. They seem to feel secure and safe when living in the shadow of a home.”
“I wish we could drive Mrs. Tompkins home and let her choose a site for our bee-hives,” ventured Natalie.
“Could you come with us, Mrs. Tompkins?” asked Mrs. James.
“I can manage to get away from home for an hour, but no longer, girls. If Frances can bring me back again, I’ll go with you,” replied the obliging lady.
All the way back to Green Hill, Janet squirmed and scratched her neck and bare arms until the skin was raw. Mrs. Tompkins asked Mrs. James about it
“Do you s’pose Janet got poison ivy on her and the rash is just showing?” asked she.
“I hadn’t thought of poison ivy,” returned Mrs. James, “but it is something. And the poor child is wretched. What can be done for her?”
“Whatever it is, a little baking soda in water will cool her burning skin and leave her comfortable for a time. But she will have to keep on using it for any continued ease.”
Arrived at the house, Rachel was told to give Janet the baking soda, and then Janet went upstairs to dab herself with the wash while Mrs. Tompkins led all the other girls about the gardens seeking the place for the bees to live. The place the girls had selected proved to be the best and most practical. When they were coming back from the field-fence, Janet met them and went with them while Natalie’s vegetables were visited.
The garden scout had been telling Mrs. Tompkins how hard she had worked that morning to kill the potato bugs, and when that lady saw the plants she gasped, “Why Natalie, what did you do?”
“They look queer, don’t they? They were not so when I left them this morning.”
Mrs. Tompkins stooped to examine a plant and looked up inquiringly at Mrs. James, and asked: “How much Paris Green did she mix?”
Natalie answered. “Why, I mixed the lot of it. I was told how much to use for the space I had to cover, but I thought an extra quantity would surely kill them off quicker, so I used three times the amount directed.”
“My dear child! I fear you have killed the plants as well as your bugs,” sighed Mrs. Tompkins, sympathetically.
“Dear me, I hope I haven’t killed my heliotrope and asters, too!” exclaimed Norma, running away to examine her flowers.
Natalie was stunned at the discovery that her precious potato plants had been destroyed by her own carelessness. Norma found the asters too sturdy to dry up under the deluge she had given them, but the heliotrope was as dry as paper.
Both girls were inconsolable, until Mrs. Tompkins promised Norma new flowers to plant, and Natalie was promised as many healthy potato plants as had been killed.
“That’s awfully good of you, Mrs. Tompkins, but those potatoes won’t be my very own darlings!” wailed Natalie.
“Well, you’ve done a good deed, child, because no bug will dare go near that place again this year,” said Mrs. Tompkins, trying not to laugh at Natalie’s sorrow which was very real to the girl.
“I can’t even feed them to my pigs, and I was looking forward to the time when we could dig the potatoes for the pigs, right from the garden,” murmured Janet, understanding Natalie’s grief.
“I will take a look at your wonderful little pigs, Janet, and then I must hurry home,” remarked Mrs. Tompkins, hoping to change Natalie’s thoughts to something else.
They all stood near the pig pen but Janet warned them not to lean on it as it might fall over. Then Mrs. Tompkins spoke: “The pigs are underfed, Janet, for their age. What do you feed ’em?”
Janet told of all the feed she gave them but Mrs. Tompkins replied: “You do not give them sufficient milk. Little pigs must have more milk than that. Si feeds our pigs the skim-milk which they like as much as other milk.”
“That’s what I can do when the cow gets here, but milk costs too much, now, to feed it to the pigs.” So saying Janet led the way over to the chicken-house.
Since walking to the barn yard the itching had started to annoy her again, so that when they came to the hen-house she was twisting and wriggling as before. The chickens were out in the yard scratching for food, while the cock stood upon a stump and showed off his plumes in the sunlight. Janet felt a just pride in their looks.
“I’m getting from four to six eggs every day, now,” said she to the visitor. “I shouldn’t wonder but there will be two or three in the nests, now.” So saying she ran in and found three nice brown eggs.
“There you are! I told you so.” And she displayed them to the lady with all the vanity of a successful chicken farmer.
“Did you just get them out of the nests?” asked Mrs. Tompkins. Janet nodded her head smilingly.
“Have you any other hens besides those old ones?” added the visitor.
“No, only a setting hen. Want to see her? Come right in and tell me what you think of her.”
Mrs. Tompkins followed Janet through the door but when she saw the setting-hen trying to peck herself continually with her bill, and saw that the feathers were all gone from her neck, then she saw another hen on a roost, constantly scratching and picking under its feathers, a light dawned upon her.
The lady went over to the roosts and looked carefully at them, then she examined the boards of the sides and roof of the house, then she looked at the nests. Finally she gathered her dress closely about her and stepped forth.
“The place is alive with ’em!” declared she, once outdoors.
“Alive with what?” chorused the waiting hostesses.
“Why, with chicken-lice. Those hens won’t lay while they are being eaten up with the pests.”
“Chicken-lice! Horrors, what are they like?” came from the girls, but Mrs. James stood dumbfounded as she began to understand. Then she exclaimed:
“Janet, it isn’t poison ivy that’s bothering you but the chicken-pest!”
It was fully five minutes before the excitement quieted down again, and Janet was told how easy a matter it was to rid oneself of the nuisance. But Janet argued over Mrs. Tompkins’ statement that chickens would not lay if they were too badly troubled with the lice. She held up the eggs as evidence of what she said.
Then Mrs. Tompkins said sarcastically: “That Ames man had no right to take you innocent girls in like he did. He must have known that ancient old bird of his was no kind of a rooster to sell. And them hens—well I know them to be six years old. They can’t lay eggs any more, they’re too old.”
“Then I’ve got freak hens, for they lay every day!” persisted Janet.
Mrs. Tompkins was driven to speak outright now, so she said: “Are you sure the eggs do not come from the house?”
This was a poser that no one could answer, so Janet was quiet. But Mrs. James said: “What can we do to rid the chickens of the lice?”
“Well, first of all keep them out in the yard while the house, inside and out, is being white-washed with good slacked lime. Then take each chicken and give it an alcohol bath, being careful not to get it in the eyes, or mouth, or ears.”
After a moment’s pause she added: “If they was my chickens I’d take them all back to Ames and make him exchange ’em. He won’t dare let this fake deal get out at Four Corners.”
Natalie and Janet had not said a word about the hens until Mrs. Tompkins spoke about the “fake deal” but Janet knew it was her duty to explain.
“Natalie and I picked out the rooster because he has such lovely feathers, and we thought the big hens would lay the biggest eggs, so we selected them for the same price.”
“Mr. Ames begged us to take Rhode Island Reds and another rooster, but we wouldn’t,” added Natalie.
“He said the hens were old and wouldn’t give satisfaction, but we thought he said that so we wouldn’t rob him of his finest big hens,” explained Janet
As the truth about the bargain began to be understood, Mrs. Tompkins and Mrs. James laughed heartily. But Janet whispered to Natalie: “I wonder if he will exchange them now?”
“We’ll tell him right out that we need hens that will lay,” said Natalie.
By this time they had reached the stoop of the house, and Janet glanced down at the three brown eggs in her hands and then looked up at Rachel who stood perplexed at the few words she had just overheard.
Mrs. James looked straight at her and said: “Rachel, how many eggs has Janet sold you now?”
“About two dozen, Mis James, countin’ dese free.”
“Well, I’m wondering who is standing the expense, you or me, or the house?”
“Why?” asked Janet, amazed at such a strange question.
Rachel gasped when she realized that she might have to pay Janet for the eggs she bought from her and also pay the house for the eggs she stole for the nests. But Sam joined them and said:
“Aunt Rachel tole me to put an egg or two in the nestes every day, but I liked to see Mis Janet smile so I put in more and more. Dat’s how she got so many from the pantry box.”
Such a roar greeted this confession that Rachel went in and slammed the kitchen door, and Janet turned to throw the eggs at Sam, but he had bolted.