Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 November 1885 — Bee-Hunting in Australia. [ARTICLE]

Bee-Hunting in Australia.

In Australia the native adopts a very peculiar plan for discovering wild honey. He knows that bees never wander very far from home, seldom more than two miles; and be also knows that when a bee is laden with honey it makes, as nearly as possible, a straight line for home. All that is necessary, then, is to find a bee that is well laden and follow it. But that is more easily said than done. Any boy who has tried to follow the big and gaycolored bumble-bee to its nest knows how great a task it is. But that is a mere trifle to following the sober little honey-bee, which can be lost, like a dream, against a gray-colored hill-side. In order to be followed, the bee must have a distinguishing mark that can be easily seen, and with such a badge the Australian provides it. He gums a small tuft of white cotton to the bee’s back, and thus follows it with comparative ease. But the question now comes up, how is the cotton to be put upon the bee’s back ? The gum is quickly found—it is on almost any tree; the cotton grows right at hand. The bee, too, is found in almost any sweet flower, buried head tirst in the dusty pollen, drinking in the nectar and showing quite plainly whether its honey-sac is full or empty. It moves a little in its eager haste to secure the delicious liquid, but perhaps a quick dab will fasten the cotton on its back. Do not try it. As the little boy told his mother, the bee is a very “quick k’cker.” Watch the Australian—and he a very stupid fellow, too, in most things. He fills his mouth with water, has his snowy tuft of cotton ready gummed, finds his bee, gently drenches it with water spurted from his mouth, picks it up while it is still indignantly shaking itself free from the water which clogs its wings, and with a dexterous touch he affixes in an instant the tell-tale cotton. Very much out of patience, no doubt, with the sudden and unexpected rainstorm, the bee rubs oft’the tiny drops from its wings, tries them, rubs again, and soon—buzz! buzz! away it goes, unconsciously leading destruction and pillage to its happy home.— From u Honey-hunting,” by John R. Coryell, in St. Nicholas.