The Indian regarded the
honey-bee as an ill-omen. She was the white man's fly. In fact she
was the epitome of the white man himself. She has the white man's
craftiness, his industry, his architectural skill, his neatness and
love of system, his foresight; and above all his eager, miserly habits.
The honeybee's great ambition is to be rich, to lay up great stores,
to possess the sweet of every flower that blooms. She is more than
provident. Enough will not satisfy her, she must have all she can get
by hook or by crook. She comes from the oldest country, Asia,
and thrives best in the most fertile and long-settled lands.
Yet the fact remains that the honey-bee is essentially a wild creature,
and never has been and cannot be thoroughly domesticated. Its proper
home is the woods, and thither every new swarm counts on going;
and thither many do go in spite of the care and watchfulness of the
bee-keeper. If the woods in any given locality are deficient in trees
with suitable cavities, the bees resort to all sorts of makeshifts;
they go into chimneys, into barns and outhouses, under stones, into
rocks, and so forth.
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