The record-union., 1893-08-25
BEE-HUNTING At NIGHT.
A Lively Pastime in the Forests of the
Sierra Nevada.
How Donner Lake Campers Enjoy
Themselves and Get Honey for
Their Flapjacks.
DASSONVILLE'S VILLA,

DO-NNth LANE August AOQs
EDS. RECoRD-U UNION: Did any of your
readers ever take part in what is called a
"Bee hunt?" By bee hunt I don't
mean an attempt to drum bees into hive
or to drive (hunt) them out of your back
yard, but a real "bee hunt in the grand
mountains surrounding Donner Lake.
Every body knows, of course, where Dom
ner Lake is. and when 1 say it is one
of the most beautiful spots in the long
Sierra range, do SO without any fear of
contradiction.
The weather here is perfect, and the ris-
ing and setting of the sun are certainly
charming pictures. Old Sol peeps over
the mountain top beyond Truckee about
6 O'Clock every morning, and looks down
on the lake, as smooth as glass, and mir
ror-like in its brilliancy and power of re-
Election. At eve he takes wink at the
lake just before he sinks behind Bonner
Peak, ard then, if you will just look
south over the snow-sheds on the high
mountain that hides its base in the lake,
you Will see the moon preparing to shed
his silvery light on the water. At 9
o'clock the scene is indescribably beauti-
ful, and three hours later the moon dis
appears behind one of the high peaks at
the upper end of the lake.
But the bee hunt had almost forgot
ten to tell you about it. Everybody on
the lake-campers, tourists, fishermen
and sheepherders were there. The scene
of the hunt was at the head of the lake.
and men, women and children came from
the camps at the lower end, the Poplars,
and Mrs. Dassonville's charming little
villa. By the way, Mrs. Dassonville's
cottages are located on the prettiest spot
on the shore of the lake, and tourists and
strangers never pass the place without
admiring it.
To return to the bee hunt. Our party
started from Tomlinson's, at the head of
the lake, at o'clock last evening There
were about thirty of us in all equally
divided as to sex, and after a tramp of
about mile through dense wood we
arrived at the bee tree. 1t was an i'm
mense, tall, stately pine, towering about
one hundred and twenty-five feet into
the sky, and measuring over four feet in
diameter. A large swarm of bees had
possession of a hollow in the tree, about
sixty feet up the trunk, and this hollow
was the objective point, for everybody
knew that all the honey was there.
A camp fire was soon blazing. The
cans for the honey were piled together
and the men commenced the work of
telling the forest monster. The sound of
the saw and the ak were soon heard, and
while the men were at work the remain
der OF the jolly party were singing and
telling stories around the camp fire.
In half an hours time there was a
cracking sound, and everybody Except
ing the choppers made for place of
safety. y few more cracks-a weird,
creakiEg sound, swaying, and the mon
ster tree fell with a terrible roar into the
gully below, tearing down everything in
its path. The crash could be heard at a
distance of over mile, and the fall of
that grand old pine will never be for
gotten by those who saw it.
Then the rush for honey began. Every
one grabbed his or her can and there was
a general scram BILE toward the hollow in
the trunk. But right here was where
the ticklish work had to be done. Those
bees had to be driven away, and here was
where the fun really began. An old fish
erman, named Mckinney, who claims to
know more about Bonner Lake and the
Bonner party than anyone else, under
took to get the honey and called for
volunteers to assist him. Joe and Frank
ToInlinson responded, and the three
were soon engaged in chopping a hole
into the trunk. The bees fairly swarmed
about them and took an especial liking
for Mckinney's legs. All they had TO do
was TO crawl up his trousers on the in
side, and then there was fun Not for
Mckinney, but for the rest of the party.
While Mckinney was frantically en-
deayoring to crush the bees on his legs,
others would light on his neck and face,