Around 1934, a swarm of bees landed in a cherry tree along a fence near the barn. I decided that I would try keeping the bees and so put them into a box. The next day Pop spoke to a Polish man who kept bees, about those I put into a box. Mr. Milinski gave Pop a hive so I could put the bees into it and he told him that I should go to his place and he would show me some things I should know about keeping bees[1]. The time arrived that I should see Mr. Milinski so brother John drove me to Sergeantsville. When we got to Sergeantsville we met Jim Pauch who attended high school and he came along. Both John and Jim sat on a wooden fence to watch and taunt me, so with much reservation I approached the hives. After the hive was opened and Mr. Milinski was explaining the workings I heard a loud “Ouch” and then some laughter from Jim. John was stung on his upper lip. In a few seconds I heard another “Ouch” and laughter from John. Jim was stung on his eye. Before we got home John’s lip stuck out beyond his nose and Jim’s eye was completely shut. I laughed continuously riding home because John looked so funny. The next day John and Jim, still swollen and both in the same home-room, could not stop laughing each time they looked at each other.
The following year my brother Mike and I found a nail keg in a tree that had a swarm of bees in it. We decided to get it at night when all the bees where in the hive. It was about two miles from our home to where we found the keg. We took along a flashlight and a burlap bag into which we would put the keg. We got to the keg tree, and I climbed the tree and Mike was to hold the burlap bag open. As I lifted the keg the thing began to collapse because the wire hoops where rusted off. Just then the flashlight bulb burned out and we were in complete darkness as no moon shone. The bees did not fly, but crawled over both of us stinging us every few minutes. We got the keg into the bag and with a stick between us we stumbled through the brush in the woods. Without a flashlight and unwilling to abandon the bees, we stumbled as we carried the load all the way home. When we arrived at home we looked like two pin cushions with the many stingers stuck to our bodies. These bees turned out to be very nasty. They were the German Black bees known for their bad disposition. My father could not get anywhere in the vicinity of the bees without being stung.. To solve the onariness of these bees I put a gentle Italian queen into the hive after destroying the black queen. In due course, the hive became gentle as the black bees died off.
Mike and I found another hive of bees in a large Oak tree about sixty feet above the ground. It was a rocky hillside along the Lockatong creek. To get the bees out of the tree I made a bee-trap, a cone shaped screen which was nailed over the entrance to the hive. The cone allows one bee at a time to leave, but it can not return. Next to the cone a man-made hive is placed on a bracket nailed to the tree. In this hive I put two frames of brood and young bees and seven frames of wax foundation. Bees trying to return to the tree eventually enter the man-made hive with the brood, which they soon accept as home. After three weeks there are hardly any bees left in the tree. Now it is time to lower the new hive.
We returned to the tree; I carried a long rope with me and I climbed a smaller tree beside the Oak to the branch of the Oak which was beside the hive. I lowered the bees which we carried home. The next day we returned to get the honey comb. We again carried rope, a couple of pails, a saw, and an ax. I repeated the climb on the small tree and then above the tree. I tied the rope around the tree and myself while I cut with saw and ax. After I cut the horizontal cuts with the saw and next prepared myself to chop the Oak so I could remove the comb. I made a couple of chops and then it happened, the long handled ax handle hit the tree and then cut the rope and down I fell. The ax dropped first and as I fell was fortunate to be able to grab the only branch between me and the ground. When I was back on the ground my brother Mike was trembling and frightened, and so was I after the gravity of the situation sunk into my mind. We got the bees but as far as I know the comb and honey is still in the tree! For years afterward I would awaken from my nightmare dream as I was falling from that tree. It was always the same dream.
[1] Editor’s Note: Stephen passed on Mr. Milinski’s lessons to son’s Joel, James, and Mark, Warren Dewitt (cousin Wanda’s husband) and grandson Gregory (son of Mark).
The first paragraph of this section was read by Steve’s son Mark at his funeral. It was one of the joys of your editor’s life to standby and watch the reaction of Uncle John during this reading. It was the first time he heard the story in this form.
The editor had occasion to trap bees with a bit less drama for Stephen. Brother/Uncle David called and there was a tree with a hollow knot hole about 14 ft up near his house. We went and built a platform (much like a deer stand) below the hole. The editor then carried a hive with some empty frames and 1 or 2 frames of young bees and brood up up a rickety ladder and set it on the platfrom and then stapled a 1 way wire mesh cone over the hole. Bees could come out, but not go back in. After a week or so, the hive was full of bees and the tree was empty, after which your editor had to return and carry a hive now full of bees down the ladder.
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