The crop of honey is most abundant if gathered at full
moon, and it is richest when the weather is fine. In all
honey, that which flows of itself, like must or oil, has received
from us the name of acetum.[1] The summer honey is the most
esteemed of all, from the fact of its being made when the
weather is driest: it is looked upon as the most serviceable
when made from thyme;[2] it is then of a golden colour, and
of a most delicious flavour. The honey that we see formed
in the calix of flowers is of a rich and unctuous nature; that
which is made from rosemary is thick, while that which is
candied is little esteemed. Thyme honey does not coagulate,
and on being touched will draw out into thin viscous threads,
a thing which is the principal proof of its heaviness. When
honey shows no tenacity, and the drops immediately part
from one another, it is looked upon as a sign of its worthlessness. The other proofs of its goodness are the fine aroma of
its smell, its being of a sweetness that closely borders on the
sour,[3] and being glutinous and pellucid.
Cassius Dionysius is of opinion that in the summer gathering the tenth part of the honey ought to be left for the bees if the hives should happen to be well filled, and even if not, still in the same proportion; while, on the other hand, if there is but little in them, he recommends that it should not be touched at all. The people of Attica have fixed the period for commencing this gathering at the first ripening of the wild fig; others[4] have made it the day that is sacred to Vulcan.[5]
(16.) The third kind of honey, which is the least esteemed
of all, is the wild honey, known by the name of ericeunm.[6] It
is collected by the bees after the first showers of autumn,
when the heather[7] alone is blooming in the woods, from which
circumstance it derives its sandy appearance. It is mostly pro-
tetralix,[9]
and the Eubœans sisirum, and they look upon it as affording
great pleasure to the bees to browse upon, probably because
there are no other flowers for them to resort to. This gathering terminates at the end of the vintage and the setting of
the Vergiliæ, mostly about the ides of November.[10] Experience teaches us that we ought to leave for the bees two-thirds of this crop, and always that part of the combs as well,
which contains the bee-bread.
From the winter solstice to the rising of Arcturus the bees
are buried in sleep for sixty days, and live without any nourishment. Between the rising of Arcturus and the vernal equinox,
they awake in the warmer climates, but even then they still
keep within the hives, and have recourse to the provisions
kept in reserve for this period. In Italy, however, they do
this immediately after the rising of the Vergiliæ, up to which
period they are asleep. Some persons, when they take the
honey, weigh the hive and all, and remove just as much as
they leave: a due sense of equity should always be stringently
observed in dealing with them, and it is generally stated that
if imposed upon in this division, the swarm will die of grief.
It is particularly recommended also that the person who takes
the honey should be well washed and clean: bees have a particular aversion, too, to a thief and a menstruous woman. When
the honey is taken, it is the best plan to drive away the bees
by means of smoke, lest they should become irritated, or else
devour the honey themselves. By often applying smoke, too,
they are aroused from their idleness to work; but if they have
not duly incubated in the comb, it is apt to become of a
livid colour. On the other hand, if they are smoked too often,
they will become tainted; the honey, too, a substance which
turns sour at the very slightest contact with dew, will very
acapnon.[11]
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