John Muir on Bees

Recently, we recommended an essay called "Locusts and Wild Honey" by our local hero, John Burroughs (1837-1921).

Today, we recommend writings by Burroughs' contemporary, John Muir (1838-1914). In particular, a chapter entitled "The Bee-Pastures" from a book called The Mountains of California.

Richly depicting a long since vanished California, with its "continuous bed of honey-bloom" so thick a walkers' foot "would press about a hundred flowers at every step," the essay is a balm on a cold winter day like today, when honeybees and their flowers seem like distant, thrumming dreams.

A favorite passage to whet your appetite:

"The great yellow days circled by uncounted, while I drifted toward the north, observing the countless forms of life thronging about me, lying down almost anywhere on the approach of night. And what glorious botanic beds I had! Oftentimes on awaking I would find several new species leaning over me and looking me full in the face, so that my studies would begin before rising."John Muir

John Burroughs

John Burroughs' Locusts and Wild Honey

Want to read a beyond-charming essay on honeybees? Look no further than 130 years back, to the great nature writer John Burroughs' extraordinary Locusts and Wild Honey. (This phrase may be familiar to the biblically inclined among you—the story goes that John the Baptist, in his poverty, fed on locusts and honey. Burroughs' title is a play on words, in celebration of the locust trees on whose blossoms the honeybee forage.)

Some samples:

The honeybee goes forth from the hive in spring like the dove from Noah's ark, and it is not till after many days that she brings back the olive leaf, which in this case is a pellet of golden pollen upon each hip, usually obtained from the alder or swamp willow.

***

It is the making of the wax that costs with the bee. As with the poet, the form, the receptacle, gives him more trouble than the sweet that fills it, though, to be sure, there is always more or less empty comb in both cases. The honey he can have for the gathering, but the wax he must make himself,—must evolve from his own inner consciousness.

***

I always feel that I have missed some good fortune if I am away from home when my bees swarm. What a delightful summer sound it is!

***

I love to see a swarm go off—if it is not mine, and, if mine must go, I want to be on hand to see the fun.

***

If you are not completely beguiled by now, there's no hope for you. But if you, like I, respond deeply to the 19th century charms of Burroughs' unabashedly enthusiastic bee-writings, check out this book. It's free on Googlebooks; can be downloaded to the iPhone app, Stanza; and is no doubt available in other free online venues as well.

Of course, nothing is perfect in this world...and while I'm happy to have Burroughs' gem free for the taking from Google, I had to laugh when I got to this page:

Some folks in the library world have raised concerns that, in its haste to scan every publication under the sun, Google is sometimes sloppy in its scanning practices. Evidence for that argument (in the form of fingerprints, no less!) can certainly be found here. But I won't let that minor imperfection mar the honeyed sweetness of finding this lovely book (and other works by John Burroughs) online, and being able to share these humble pleasures so easily with you.

And while we're on the subject, here's Woodchuck Lodge in Roxbury, New York, where Burroughs was born and spent the summers of his adulthood studying nature, writing, and entertaining famous friends like Henry Ford. Wren and I paid homage to Burroughs during our visit there last summer, and took this picture of his sweet spot on Mother Earth.

A Vacation

Wren and I had a great vacation last week, which accounts for my unannounced break from blogging. It was 10 days of pure real-world, off-line, away from desk—loving every minute of it.
We enjoyed sunny meadows.

We (belatedly) discovered the glorious delicacy that is purple-flowering raspberry—a divine wild plant that takes raspberries to a whole new level.

We were visited by our friends Eva and Deb. Eva and Gumdrop did some serious communing. Later in the day, we communed with the blueberry patch across the road.
We also enjoyed a visit from our friend Andrew of Andrew's Honey and Bees Without Borders, and his pal Kelly, shown here displaying a nice hunk of beeswax.
Andrew provided some wonderful mentorship during a visit to our hives. Along with teaching me a thing or three, he assured me that I'm not the world's worst beekeeper after all. Whew!


We walked the rails-to-trails near Roxbury. This old rail marker indicates the mileage to Kingston, New York. The old train line ran from Kingston to Oneonta, according to a local historian we ran into during our walk.

During another walk in a nearby forest, I was thrilled to find this old metal sign half-buried in the mud. Finders keepers.
The forest is now NYS land; these trees were, presumably, planted with the sawmill in mind. Fortunately, destiny has spared them: they are now part of what is called "a demonstration forest." It's a beautiful, rich woodland area just over yonder.

Each day, we spent quality time with Sencha and made sure to do plenty of trespassing. ("This land is your land, this land is my land, etc.")

We visited Mountaintop Arboretum in Tannersville. The aboretum is working to revive the glorious, blighted American Chestnut, which once dominated the Eastern forests.
The chestnut "nursery."

We nearly drove off the road when we saw this sign on our neighbor's farm. The skulls say it all.

We made a pilgrimage to John Burroughs' Woodchuck Lodge. The place, it seems, is always closed and lacks quality signage or walking trails (we think Burroughs deserves better). After briefly communing with the adorable exterior of the house, we bushwhacked down the hill to a beautiful pond/bog where—after inadvertently scaring the bejesus out of umpteen bullfrogs—we lay in the sun, interrupted in our mellow thoughts by a doe who appeared out of nowhere to drink at water's edge. Very Burroughsian.

We got the car washed (and bought brownies) at the local firehouse fund-raiser.
We checked out the cool trucks.

We met new bugs and continued the ongoing effort to Learn Our Trees (finally getting various oak, beech, fir, and maple species under my belt).

We got some serious altitude on the Windham High Peak. (Wren doesn't consider it a bona fide vacation unless she force-marches me up a steep mountain.)It was quite a beautiful hike, with diverse forest communities, fabulous mushrooms (like the comb tooth below) and many interesting wildflowers I'd never seen before (and am still trying to ID).Up top, we met a couple who'd just minutes before witnessed what sounded like a major bee swarm in a balsam tree. Sadly, we missed that excitement, though the honeybees kept us company all the way up the mountain, wherever there was sun enough to support goldenrod.

We also had a nice chat with a Search & Rescue guy who said that the best way to handle a bear encounter is to stand with your arms up, stretching out your shirt or coat over your head to look as large as possible, make a lot of noise and—if charged—bat the bear really hard on the nose with a big stick; woodland-survival tips we sincerely hope we'll never need.

All in all, a fun and informative vacation! Here's to the next forced-march up the mountain of rest & relaxation.