Meet the robinsons cornelius dadant

Full text of "Annual Honors Day program"

meet the robinsons cornelius dadant

Meat Atlas: Facts and Figures About the Animals We Eat (Berlin: H. Boll Foundation; Brussels: Friends of the Earth Europe, ), ed. by Christine Chemnitz. Hoshakuji station - Kengo Kuma & Associates:In order to reduce the weight, we used lauan-made plywood for structure, instead of Oya stone. By using wood, I. Brosnan, Cornelius J. (Cornelius James), (2 titles); Brossard, J. (1 title) J. H. Sabang, Penang en onze handelsbetrekkingen met Britisch-Indië (1 title ); Cohn, Dadant, J. C. (James Camille) (2 titles); Dadisman, A. J. (Andrew Jackson), G. G. and J. Robinson (Paternoster Row, London, England) pbl (5 titles).

The wolf was making her way where they grew. Doctor Sandy felt inclined to try the place and see whether there was not a path there which he himself could traverse in safety.

If her young were there, an encounter with the excited and angry dam would call for arms. He found that shallow water covered a firm ridge of sand and gravel, affording safe and easy passage by a meandering line, whose location could be determined quite readily by a slight variation in the color, or tint, of the vegetation. The path was also marked by the evidences of its having been much used, and recently by some animal that might have been a cow, judging from the deep impression made in the vegetation.

Most of these matters were cleared up as soon as Doctor Sandy and his companion had set foot on the island. As for the honey, the smell of it was in the air; and the bee-tree itself, or what was left of it, was in plain sight. But they had come a day too late. Another hunter had discovered the rich stores and had knocked off patches of the dead bark, and although he had not written his name, he had plainly left his mark.

In fact, the one that had profited by the Doctor's delay was even then at hand and busily at work. The tree containing the hive was an old one, now dead, and, indeed, so far gone in decay that a strong wind had broken off the top part.

The trunk had given way in just the place where the hive was located, so that a portion of the honey had come down to the ground. A little black bear had followed his nose all the way from the mainland and had at once entered his claim to the contents of the tree. The bear had found the bees actively engaged in transporting to a place of safety the precious treasure now so rudely exposed to the weather. He had evidently lost no time in making up his mind to assist them, and thereupon had devoured the portion that had fallen to the ground with the upper part of the tree.

He had then climbed the stump and dived in at the top. Only a little of that part of the bear that had gone in last was visible when Doctor Sandy and the Indian arrived.

The little fellow was so absorbed in his feasting that he had failed to observe their approach. And in truth, when he had worked himself up out of the hive in response to their heavy pounding on the tree-trunk, he was not in any condition to see, or even hear, what was going on.

His head was so completely plastered over with honey and dead wood and bark and even grass and leaves, that his eyes were sealed shut and his ears quite effectually stopped; nor could the vigorous use of his paws at once relieve him of blindness and deafness.

The Indian continued to pound on the tree-trunk, begging that the bear should not be shot; and the latter, notwithstanding the bad mix-up in its affairs, began to descend tail first — if anything without a tail could be said to come down in that way. The Indian drew his hunting-knife. With such a weapon his fathers had met Bruin, and he would follow their example. It was an easy task, and yet it required a well-delivered blow.

When the animal, growling and whining, had descended to a point within easy reach, the blade was driven home to the hilt. The bear, clutching at the weapon, lost its hold and rolled over on the grass, but could not rise again.

But, as the event transpired, the bear was not hard to deal with, and quickly lay still in death. Before leaving the place the Indian discovered that the footsteps of the wolf led across the island and in the direction of a big sycamore that rose from a little knoll in the marsh far beyond.

Jacob Lorenzo Werich relates this humorous story about a man referred to as Honey Bee Sawyer in his book Pioneer Hunters of the Kankakee, published in The reader remembers I said that [Joshua R.

But he had many close rivals in hunting for wild honey. Now I will tell you of one of the shrewdest bee hunters that ever operated in the Kankakee Swamps. Sawyer was related to the Mr. This young hunter who originated in Kentucky but later at Big Log, Indiana, has friends who have determined that he is a natural born hunter Kentucky produces a large crop of such.

Sawyer was long armed and amiable. From many years, of practice in hunting and shooting wild fowls, deer and wild hogs and other game which inhabitated the Kankakee region had a fairly correct notion of his own about hunting.

Many of the sportsmen from the city would employ him and turn over their camp to him and at night he would teach them local geography of the Kankakee region. In a few years he became known to almost all the sportsmen in the nearby cities. The business of a guide in those days was to push a boat through the swamps, bayous and sand marshes with one, and sometimes two, hunters in it.

At times there was much hard work to perform, especially in the fall hunt when the water was low. In a year or two he grew tired of this business and his thoughts seemed to consist as far as might be to avoid work. As he was well known by all of the old bee hunters along the Kankakee he was welcomed as joyously at a bee hunters cabin as if he were a long missing brother.

He was at once made to be at home in the bee hunters cabin on Long Ridge, whilst the old hunter entered with a friendly rivalry with the young hunter in the giving of advice and information.

After visiting a number of the old-time bee hunters who resided among the sand ridges along the river, one of them was Honey Bee Sawyer. He thought he had the secret so he began looking for wild bees that stored their honey in hollow trees which were called bee trees.

Honey sold at a good price in those days as there were not many hunters engaged in the business. At that time there were several good bee hunters in the swamp among whom I might mention the Steven brothers, Marion and Filander, Harrison Dolson, Joe Cason, Had Folsom, Charles Cannon, and a score of others that were very successful bee hunters.

They were all old timers who had followed the business for years. Sawyer was green at bee hunting as I said before, but he hit on a scheme that worked and laid the old bee hunters in the shade.

meet the robinsons cornelius dadant

He was always a lucky hunter. Good luck seemed always at his hand. No matter what the game was he pursued, he always was sure to bag it, and so the same luck followed him in the bee hunting business. He found two or three trees, cut them, and they proved good, getting from sixty to one-hundred and fifty pounds per tree. Being a good season for honey, as there were lots of wild flowers for the bees to work on, Sawyer concieved the idea to mark every tree that he found that had a hole in it, to mark them all bee trees, generally picking on trees that were easily climbed.

He had a pair of climbers made something on the order that telegraph linemen use. He had everything in readiness and just as soon as the frost came and killed the flowers so the bees would have to work on bait he was ready for them. As I said nearly every tree with a hole in it had his name on it and it is very seldom that you hear of a marked bee tree being desturbed.

Before close of the bee hunting season Sawyer went around to all the trees that he had his name on, climbed them, stuck some honey-comb inside of the tree and smeared honey all around the hole so that all the neighborhood bees would work on the honey, passing in and out of the hole in the hollow tree.

This the bees will do late in the Fall when the flowers are gone. After baiting about sixty-five or seventy trees in this way, having three or four live trees, genuine bee trees, he announced his trees for sale and in a few days he had his victim coming. As good luck would have it, it was a warm, sunny day in the middle of October and the bees worked on bait nicely. Sawyer took them through the swamp, over ridges and showed them his stock of bee trees.

The bees were working strong, going in and out of the trees, indicating a strong swarm. Sounding the trees with the pole of an axe gave them some idea as to the hollow that the tree might contain. After examining the trees, the party returned to the cabin late in the afternoon tired, wet and hungry.

The trapper who was shantying with him had a kettle of stewed duck, boiled potatoes, bread, butter and coffee, which made a fairly good supper.

Sawyer asked them three dollars and fifty cents a tree and showed them the honey that he took out of a tree that he cut. Smith, the man who helped him cut the tree and take the honey out.

The settlers hesitated for awhile, but finally said they would give him two dollars and fifty cents a tree for sixty-five trees. There were three trees on the north side of the river they did not want.

Sawyer did not want to miss a sale so he said that he would cut two trees near the cabin and if they did not get more than one hundred and fifty pounds from the two trees he would take the two fifty. And if there was more than that they were to give him the three fifty. To this they agreed. They went to cut the trees and from the first one they got a little over one hundred pounds of nice honey.

The other tree was still better. They soon closed the deal. Sawyer was to help them cut the trees and the time was decided on the first freeze up when the ice would carry them safely, as that would be the best time to get around in the swamp and get the honey out. The bargain was closed and Sawyer received his money, two hundred and twenty-seven dollars for five bee trees; whilst the sixty trees contained nothing but the hollows.

Not a bee in the whole sixty trees or for a long time afterwards. A few days later the settlers came and had a bee tree cutting. They cut several trees and did not find any honey nor bees but found a piece of honey-comb on a string inside the tree. This led them to believe that they had been tricked. They went to their homes much wiser, but with no honey.

What they said of their experience was never known. A few days after this an old bee hunter asked one of them how much honey they got.

Full text of "Gleanings in bee culture"

He drew a long hunting knife and threatened the inquirer. The other settlers were questioned not at all. It was one of the shrewdest tricks ever pulled off in the history of the Kankakee Valley. His fame as a bee hunter went abroad all over Northern Indiana and he was thence after known as Honey Bee Sawyer, and this done on his achievement is not dimmed or forgotten. Father [John Werich] was quite a successful bee hunter and in early days kept the home supplied with wild honey all the year round and from him I got my early training in bee hunting.

Although I never hunted for bees very much yet it is one of the sweetest hunts that a man can engage in. I never found very many bee trees and what I did find I found mostly when I was not looking for them. When a boy I used to go with Father when he went bee hunting. In the fall of the year after the frost had killed the wild flowers the bees would work on bait and by putting some honey-comb, stuck on a stick, in some open place, then watch for the bees, and if there are any bees within a half mile they will come to the bait and after they have loaded themselves with honey they will rise, circle around once or twice then start straight for home.

Then the hunter gets the line on the direction of the tree. A bee never flies a crooked line to its home when loaded.

A variation of the tale of Honey Bee Sawyer swindling residents in the Kankakee River area of honey also appears in the May 26,issue of the Chicago Daily Tribune. Essexmentioned at the beginning of Werich's story, was commonly referred to "Essex, the Beehunter" since he was considered by the locals of the community to be "one of the greatest wild bee hunters that ever hunted the Kankakee region. Essex arrived in Porter County in the late s and began a partnership in hunting and trapping with Joel G.

The Swift Cut Off no longer exists since it was obliterated when the Kankakee River was straightened by steam dredges during the early s into Marble Ditch. Essex would remain in partnership with Gilson for approximately three years and then enlisted on August 7,in Company I of the 5th Indiana Cavalry where he would serve as Quartermaster Sergeant during the Civil War. Essex was discharged from service on June 15,and returned to the Kankakee area of Porter County to trap, hunt, and pursue bees until when he retired.

In his retirement years, Essex devoted his time to bee culture. He developed and reportedly patented a bee hive that he manufactured and sold to beekeepers. It has also been written that his beehive was a "great improvement over the old-fashioned bee hive.

Essex would pass away on June 7, ; his remains are interred at the Hebron Cemetery. Bull was likely Porter County's largest and most successful commercial beekeeper and began beekeeping in Liberty Township in His apiary was located north of County Road North, directly across the road from present day Camp Lawrence; his home still stands. Notices published in local newspapers in suggest that Bull's apiary produced more than thirteen tons 26, pounds of extracted honey that year from more than colonies.

Postal cover for T. Bull, producer of comb and extracted honey, circa s. Bull sold his extracted honey by the barrel. He would transport the barrels by wagon to Valparaiso, then ship by rail to buyers located in Chicago, Cincinnati, and New York. An engraving of Bull's hive shows that the honey super box consisted of eight smaller screened boxes, likely designed in that manner to better facilitate the extraction of honey. Engraving of Theodore S.

Bull's Ne Plus Ultra bee hive. The American Bee Journal, March News brief concerning bee and honey display at Porter County Fair.

Weekly Bee Journal, October 1, Another innovator in the beekeeping industry from Porter County was Joseph L. Though Harris was a producer of honey, his specialty was raising queens that he would then sell to other beekeepers. Harris developed a queen shipping cage that was approved for use by the United States Post Office Department in Harris retailed his queen cage to other individuals that specialized in raising and commercially selling queen bees. News item about queen shipping cage developed by Wheeler's Joseph L.

The nature of this cage was also reported in the February 12,issue of the Porter County Vidette. American Bee Journal, February Queen mailing cage advertisement placed by Wheeler's Joseph L. Harris also created a bee hive of his own design. Langstroth inwhich is the predominant hive design used today. The contents of the bee-tree were then his property, and it had always been the strict law of the border that no man might then gainsay the right thus acquired, or in any way interfere with the title.

But while it was easy enough to put your mark on any of these living beehives, it was often very difficult to find one when you were looking for it. In those days the bee-hunters were so few in number, compared with the vast range of the undisturbed forest, that a bee-tree quite generally stood unnoticed for many years, and when found was apt to contain enormous accumulations of honey.

Sometimes an aged tree, when it came down, would break asunder, and a fountain of the precious contents pour out on the grass. A portion of this flood could be caught or recovered.

meet the robinsons cornelius dadant

It was placed in a separate vessel, and when they reached home a quantity of water was added. Most of the foreign matter would then rise to the surface so that it could easily be removed. The honey was still farther cleansed by boiling and straining through flannel. It was then boiled again until slightly thickened. Quite beyond the dream of any epicure, for example, is that famous dish where the edgy tartness of cranberry sauce is smothered in boiled honey — so those old-time people will yet freely maintain.

He then began to set out the bee-bait in some convenient place on the border of the wooded land, or where the widest patch of sunshine spread itself on the forest-floor. The bait consisted of a few drops of maple-syrup, or any other sweet substance, diluted with water and held in a cup, or scattered over a clean chip, or dropped on a piece of paper. To make sure of the prompt attention of the bees, the knowing ones would fix a piece of honey-comb on the end of a cedar-splint which was set on fire.

By these means the air was loaded with an incense sweet and aromatic — a lure very seductive to insect-life.

But Doctor Sandy knew of an artifice still more potent. It was a compound whose ingredients and their nice proportions he was accustomed to dwell upon in a very particular manner. Place only a drop of the compound on the outside of the cup; fill the cup with honey and water, one half each. How marvellous the subtile emanation that could work its strange spell throughout so vast a sphere!

A common house-fly or a big blue-bottle fellow or a colony of ants might be the first to attack the sweetened water, and then a wasp would hover about. But soon, or it might be later, a real honey-bee, one and then another and another, would drop from above, and all hasten to feast themselves at this banquet laid for them. The next was the critical moment, as the bee rose to fly away home. With plainly apparent effort it struggled up a few feet, and then circling about for its bearings darted away along the traditional bee-line, whose direct and unerring course was the shortest distance to the hollow tree-trunk where the accumulated products of prolonged toil were securely concealed.

To note most carefully that line of flight and to follow where it might lead, was the nice task of the hunter, the cunningest of all the arts that woodcraft may show. It might be that the hunter could run but a little way without fearing that he had turned aside from the trail; but, if so, he had but to stand and wait, assured that others hastening to the same hive would soon mark anew by their flight the lost line of direction.

In this way, holding to a straightforward course, in time his practised eye would discern the aged tree where a hazy cloud of the honey-makers revolved perpetually before some knot-hole, the open door to the hive. One day Doctor Sandy and I were returning home along the Pottowattomie trail.

We had spent the morning and a part of the afternoon at a certain huckleberry-patch where the berries were always large and fine, and each of us had brought away a full basket. We stopped to rest at a point where the path approached very near to the marsh.

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Stepping aside into the woods a few paces, we came to the top of one of those sand-knobs that here and there rise boldly from the edge of the bogland. We sat down on a log where we could enjoy a good breeze and at the same time take in a wide view of the Kankakee. Far off in the marsh lay a small island with a few large trees and an area of pawpaw shrubs.

The Doctor smiled, as he began to recount his experience in that place years before. In those days he had observed that whenever he had set out his bee-bait along this part of the trail, the bees would invariably rise and strike across the marsh in the direction of this particular island.

The latter was too far away for him to know that the bees actually stopped there, and the approach was of such a nature as to make it extremely difficult to reach the place. The bog was of just that consistency that will not support the human foot, and yet was so dense with matted vegetation and loose soil that no one could urge a boat through the mass.

The Doctor had been foiled several times in the attempt to reach the island, until one day, stopping on this very sand-knob to rest and enjoy its elevated view of the region, he chanced to observe a she-wolf not far away parting the reeds at the margin of the wet land. With now and then a little leap or hop, it worked its way by a zigzag course far out into the marsh and toward the island, apparently walking in the water without difficulty.

He had not previously thought to notice that a narrow belt of pickerel plants, arrow leaves, and lizard tongues — that seldom grow well except in shallow water — extended as far as he could distinguish them, and he thought to the island itself. The wolf was making her way where they grew. Doctor Sandy felt inclined to try the place and see whether there was not a path there which he himself could traverse in safety. If her young were there, an encounter with the excited and angry dam would call for arms.

He found that shallow water covered a firm ridge of sand and gravel, affording safe and easy passage by a meandering line, whose location could be determined quite readily by a slight variation in the color, or tint, of the vegetation. The path was also marked by the evidences of its having been much used, and recently by some animal that might have been a cow, judging from the deep impression made in the vegetation. Most of these matters were cleared up as soon as Doctor Sandy and his companion had set foot on the island.

As for the honey, the smell of it was in the air; and the bee-tree itself, or what was left of it, was in plain sight. But they had come a day too late. Another hunter had discovered the rich stores and had knocked off patches of the dead bark, and although he had not written his name, he had plainly left his mark. In fact, the one that had profited by the Doctor's delay was even then at hand and busily at work. The tree containing the hive was an old one, now dead, and, indeed, so far gone in decay that a strong wind had broken off the top part.

The trunk had given way in just the place where the hive was located, so that a portion of the honey had come down to the ground.

A little black bear had followed his nose all the way from the mainland and had at once entered his claim to the contents of the tree. The bear had found the bees actively engaged in transporting to a place of safety the precious treasure now so rudely exposed to the weather. He had evidently lost no time in making up his mind to assist them, and thereupon had devoured the portion that had fallen to the ground with the upper part of the tree.

He had then climbed the stump and dived in at the top. Only a little of that part of the bear that had gone in last was visible when Doctor Sandy and the Indian arrived. The little fellow was so absorbed in his feasting that he had failed to observe their approach. And in truth, when he had worked himself up out of the hive in response to their heavy pounding on the tree-trunk, he was not in any condition to see, or even hear, what was going on.

His head was so completely plastered over with honey and dead wood and bark and even grass and leaves, that his eyes were sealed shut and his ears quite effectually stopped; nor could the vigorous use of his paws at once relieve him of blindness and deafness.

The Indian continued to pound on the tree-trunk, begging that the bear should not be shot; and the latter, notwithstanding the bad mix-up in its affairs, began to descend tail first — if anything without a tail could be said to come down in that way. The Indian drew his hunting-knife. With such a weapon his fathers had met Bruin, and he would follow their example. It was an easy task, and yet it required a well-delivered blow.

When the animal, growling and whining, had descended to a point within easy reach, the blade was driven home to the hilt. The bear, clutching at the weapon, lost its hold and rolled over on the grass, but could not rise again. But, as the event transpired, the bear was not hard to deal with, and quickly lay still in death. Before leaving the place the Indian discovered that the footsteps of the wolf led across the island and in the direction of a big sycamore that rose from a little knoll in the marsh far beyond.

Jacob Lorenzo Werich relates this humorous story about a man referred to as Honey Bee Sawyer in his book Pioneer Hunters of the Kankakee, published in The reader remembers I said that [Joshua R.

But he had many close rivals in hunting for wild honey. Now I will tell you of one of the shrewdest bee hunters that ever operated in the Kankakee Swamps. Sawyer was related to the Mr. This young hunter who originated in Kentucky but later at Big Log, Indiana, has friends who have determined that he is a natural born hunter Kentucky produces a large crop of such. Sawyer was long armed and amiable. From many years, of practice in hunting and shooting wild fowls, deer and wild hogs and other game which inhabitated the Kankakee region had a fairly correct notion of his own about hunting.

Many of the sportsmen from the city would employ him and turn over their camp to him and at night he would teach them local geography of the Kankakee region. In a few years he became known to almost all the sportsmen in the nearby cities.

The business of a guide in those days was to push a boat through the swamps, bayous and sand marshes with one, and sometimes two, hunters in it. At times there was much hard work to perform, especially in the fall hunt when the water was low. In a year or two he grew tired of this business and his thoughts seemed to consist as far as might be to avoid work.

As he was well known by all of the old bee hunters along the Kankakee he was welcomed as joyously at a bee hunters cabin as if he were a long missing brother. He was at once made to be at home in the bee hunters cabin on Long Ridge, whilst the old hunter entered with a friendly rivalry with the young hunter in the giving of advice and information.

After visiting a number of the old-time bee hunters who resided among the sand ridges along the river, one of them was Honey Bee Sawyer. He thought he had the secret so he began looking for wild bees that stored their honey in hollow trees which were called bee trees. Honey sold at a good price in those days as there were not many hunters engaged in the business. At that time there were several good bee hunters in the swamp among whom I might mention the Steven brothers, Marion and Filander, Harrison Dolson, Joe Cason, Had Folsom, Charles Cannon, and a score of others that were very successful bee hunters.

They were all old timers who had followed the business for years. Sawyer was green at bee hunting as I said before, but he hit on a scheme that worked and laid the old bee hunters in the shade. He was always a lucky hunter. Good luck seemed always at his hand. No matter what the game was he pursued, he always was sure to bag it, and so the same luck followed him in the bee hunting business.

He found two or three trees, cut them, and they proved good, getting from sixty to one-hundred and fifty pounds per tree. Being a good season for honey, as there were lots of wild flowers for the bees to work on, Sawyer concieved the idea to mark every tree that he found that had a hole in it, to mark them all bee trees, generally picking on trees that were easily climbed. He had a pair of climbers made something on the order that telegraph linemen use.

He had everything in readiness and just as soon as the frost came and killed the flowers so the bees would have to work on bait he was ready for them.

As I said nearly every tree with a hole in it had his name on it and it is very seldom that you hear of a marked bee tree being desturbed. Before close of the bee hunting season Sawyer went around to all the trees that he had his name on, climbed them, stuck some honey-comb inside of the tree and smeared honey all around the hole so that all the neighborhood bees would work on the honey, passing in and out of the hole in the hollow tree. This the bees will do late in the Fall when the flowers are gone.

After baiting about sixty-five or seventy trees in this way, having three or four live trees, genuine bee trees, he announced his trees for sale and in a few days he had his victim coming. As good luck would have it, it was a warm, sunny day in the middle of October and the bees worked on bait nicely. Sawyer took them through the swamp, over ridges and showed them his stock of bee trees. The bees were working strong, going in and out of the trees, indicating a strong swarm.

Sounding the trees with the pole of an axe gave them some idea as to the hollow that the tree might contain. After examining the trees, the party returned to the cabin late in the afternoon tired, wet and hungry. The trapper who was shantying with him had a kettle of stewed duck, boiled potatoes, bread, butter and coffee, which made a fairly good supper. Sawyer asked them three dollars and fifty cents a tree and showed them the honey that he took out of a tree that he cut.

Smith, the man who helped him cut the tree and take the honey out. The settlers hesitated for awhile, but finally said they would give him two dollars and fifty cents a tree for sixty-five trees. There were three trees on the north side of the river they did not want. Sawyer did not want to miss a sale so he said that he would cut two trees near the cabin and if they did not get more than one hundred and fifty pounds from the two trees he would take the two fifty.

And if there was more than that they were to give him the three fifty. To this they agreed. They went to cut the trees and from the first one they got a little over one hundred pounds of nice honey. The other tree was still better. They soon closed the deal. Sawyer was to help them cut the trees and the time was decided on the first freeze up when the ice would carry them safely, as that would be the best time to get around in the swamp and get the honey out.

The bargain was closed and Sawyer received his money, two hundred and twenty-seven dollars for five bee trees; whilst the sixty trees contained nothing but the hollows.

Not a bee in the whole sixty trees or for a long time afterwards. A few days later the settlers came and had a bee tree cutting. They cut several trees and did not find any honey nor bees but found a piece of honey-comb on a string inside the tree.

This led them to believe that they had been tricked. They went to their homes much wiser, but with no honey. What they said of their experience was never known. A few days after this an old bee hunter asked one of them how much honey they got.

He drew a long hunting knife and threatened the inquirer. The other settlers were questioned not at all. It was one of the shrewdest tricks ever pulled off in the history of the Kankakee Valley. His fame as a bee hunter went abroad all over Northern Indiana and he was thence after known as Honey Bee Sawyer, and this done on his achievement is not dimmed or forgotten.

Father [John Werich] was quite a successful bee hunter and in early days kept the home supplied with wild honey all the year round and from him I got my early training in bee hunting.

Although I never hunted for bees very much yet it is one of the sweetest hunts that a man can engage in.