I crossed from Harwich to Hook of Holland on the night of March 26–27th, to avail myself of the Autobahn from the Hague to south Germany, and from there followed a route via Lyon, Narbonne, Barcelona and along the Mediterranean coast to Gibraltar, where I awaited the arrival of Dr R.H. BARNES, who volunteered to accompany me on the journey in Morocco. I heard his plane coming in shortly after midnight, and we met at breakfast the following morning. A few hours later we were on our way to Tangier.
I had firmly intended to visit Morocco in 1952, but when I was in Algeria I was prevented by various difficulties from proceeding westward to the adjoining country. On looking back, I feel this delay proved fortunate, for I would most certainly have never been able to carry out the work to my satisfaction in the circumstances then prevailing. I was not specially interested in the native black bee of Morocco, for I realized it could not differ materially from the indigenous bee of Algeria, A. mellifera var. intermissa. The primary object of my visit to Morocco was to obtain more precise knowledge of the Saharan bee and its habitat. In this connection, Monsieur Paul Haccour of Sidi-Yahia du Gharb, whom I met at the Congresses in Rome and Madrid, rendered me invaluable service. Mr. Haccour, who owns about 2000 colonies, is one of the keenest commercial beekeepers I have had the pleasure of meeting. Moreover, he spoke Arabic and possessed a life’s experience in dealing with the Moroccan people.
So our first point of call was his home, a country house some miles from Sidi-Yahia, set in the midst of eucalyptus, mimosa, citrus and many other kinds of sub-tropical trees. The heavy scent of orange blossom pervaded the area, particularly early in the morning before the sun dispelled the high humidity; by noon the temperature approached 90°F [32°C]. We arrived at a season when the countryside was attired in its richest flora. An exceptionally heavy rainfall during the previous few months had made the flora unusually luxuriant. After two days, in this marvellous setting, spent in visiting some of the beekeepers nearby, we set out for the Sahara accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Haccour.
Our route took us across the northern Atlas, via the Col du Zad. Here at 6600 ft we were back in wintery conditions, surrounded by snow everywhere. Indeed, we were told that we would not have got through this Pass by car a week earlier. The night was spent at Midelt, a small village in the eastern foothills of the Atlas. Next morning, as we approached the fringe of the Sahara, the character of the vegetation changed, and date palms made their appearance here and there. In place of the bare rock and boulders, sand dunes came in sight. Well before midday we reached the Tafilalet, a group of oases which Mr. Haccour considers to be the cradle of A. mellifera var. sahariensis.
I believe it was Philippe J. Baldensberger (†1948) who first drew attention to the race in 1921. He discovered this bee at Figuig, the most easterly Moroccan oasis. As far as our present knowledge indicates, Figuig is also the most easterly point at which the race can be found. It is certainly not found in the more well known oases of Algeria, such as Laghouat, Bou Saada, Biskra or Ghardaia. Westwards its distribution extends at least as far as Ouarzazate, as we were able to verify ourselves. It should be realized that this race is hemmed in by two great natural barriers: by the towering Atlas chain of mountains on the north-west, and by an endless waste of sand in the east and south. Moreover, each of the various oases is almost as effectively isolated one from others by miles of barren desert extending between them. As far as I could ascertain, there can be little or no interbreeding in most localities.
The question arises: how did this race originate? There can be no doubt that this Saharan bee is a distinct race — distinct in its external and physiological characteristics. We know that throughout North Africa, from Tripolitania to the most southerly point of Morocco bordering the Atlantic, the jet-black bee, A. mellifera var. intermissa, holds undisputed sway. But here, wedged in between the Atlas and the Sahara, we have within a relatively small area, confined to the fringe of the desert, miniature pockets of a distinct yellow race of bee. I cannot for one moment believe that sahariensis should in course of time have evolved from intermissa. There is no similarity between the two races. Mr. Haccour holds the view that Jewish immigrants may have brought the original stock from the Middle East more than two thousand years ago, and that in the intervening years, due to the special environment, the bee we now know as sahariensis was evolved. However, all the Middle East races are well known to me, and I can discern little or no similarity. Externally sahariensis resembles Apis indica more than any other bees, but the similarity extends no further.
The pure sahariensis is not yellow; the colour might best be described as light tan. But a wide variation is manifested, and the colour extends in varying degrees to all the dorsal segments. Owing to the darker colour and the considerable variation in markings, the Saharan bee is by no means as attractive as the more brightly coloured races. In size this bee is midway between ligustica and syriaca. The queens also vary in colour, from bright yellow to dark brown — though never black. The drones are remarkably uniform and have two conspicuous bronze–coloured segments.
I have found the pure queens moderately prolific. The bees are relatively good-tempered, but rather nervous, particularly in times of dearth. When a hive is opened they run to and fro, just as wasps will when their nest is disturbed. They also fly up in great numbers, but do not act aggressively. Also, when under manipulation, the bees fall off the combs very readily. They seem to have the least foothold of any bees I know. In this respect the Italian bee represents the other extreme — she can only be dislodged with force. One other notable characteristic of sahariensis is its quick flight from the entrance. There is no loitering of any kind — a quality which I believe Baldensberger already noted. She tends to propolize, but not excessively. The pure sahariensis suffered a heavy loss of bees at Buckfast in the severe winter of 1962–63, but the colonies survived in surprisingly good condition and strength. Those with first–cross queens wintered outstandingly well in every way. A first cross, Saharan queens to our own drones, has proved surpassingly prolific — indeed the most prolific cross we have so far tested in our apiaries. In addition the brood is wonderfully compact and — most remarkable for a first cross — little or no drone brood is raised. This characteristic was manifested by every colony with a first–cross queen of this type. I regard it as a most desirable quality, for most hybrids tend to raise drones to excess, and certain crosses will invariably spoil a set of combs or foundations to such an extent that their further use in uneconomic. Though the pure sahariensis is reputed to be addicted to swarming, I have not found this to be so in a first cross. It is premature to express a view on the nectar gathering and general foraging ability of this cross, since the summer of 1962 proved a complete failure in south-west Devon. Indeed it was the worst season in my forty-nine years of beekeeping. I will however say this: the Saharan bee, when suitably crossed, has great possibilities. On the other hand, the pure sahariensis is itself unlikely to prove of much value to the beekeeper.
A number of claims are made for this race, such as exceptional tongue reach, great wing power and foraging ability. The question of tongue reach will be determined as soon as reliable biometric data are at hand. The sahariensis is undoubtedly an exceptionally active bee, but I cannot say whether her range of flight is as great as has been assumed. Evidence may be forthcoming later to give us some reliable information on this point. Considering the environment in its native habitat, the assumption may well prove correct.
One of the very first things that struck me on arrival at Erfoud, the principal town in the Tafilalet, was the seared and ragged condition of the palm trees. They looked withered and lifeless, with none of the deep green we usually associate with the fronds of a palm, and which I had seen in the Algerian oases and in other parts of the world. These palms gave an indication of the climate and environment in which the Saharan bee ekes, out an existence. Here, on the fringe of the Grand Atlas and the Sahara, temperatures vary from near freezing in winter to nearly 120°F [49°C] during torrid spells in summer. There are sharp differences between night and day temperatures in all desert countries, but here they seemed especially harsh.
Apart from a few desert flowers, the date palm, eucalyptus, citrus, lucerne and various other legumes furnish the main sources of nectar. The legumes are cultivated in small plots in amongst the palm trees. From the condition of the colonies I was able to inspect, I could only conclude that the fight for survival here is of the most exacting kind. Where a live colony should have been, all too often we found an empty hive and traces of the erstwhile combs. The number of colonies in the oases we visited seemed small at best. It is therefore not surprising that the local beekeepers will not readily part with a queen, or still less with a whole colony.
In my 1950 Michelin map most of the regions we passed through were marked as zones d’insécurité, and modern beekeeping has not had time to penetrate in to these out-of-the-way places. (We came across only one modern hive, in the gardens of the Governor of Goulmina). The bees are kept, according to custom, in cavities in house or garden walls. The walls are constructed of sun-baked clay, and the cavities, are not very spacious — usually about 8 inches high, 10 inches deep and about 20 inches wide [20×25×50 cm]. Access to the cavity is obtained by removing a wooden cover (made either in one piece or of a number of individual boards) which is cemented in place with clay. Where the cavity is in the wall of a dwelling, access is obtained from inside the house or a room. This seems the most common way of beekeeping in these remote places. However, at Goulmina in the gardens of the Governor, I observed a number of special constructions in clay of unusual dimensions and design. The entrances were fitted with a guard to prevent the intrusion of marauders — a board about 8 inches square fitted with auger holes of a size permitting the passage of a bee, but nothing larger. This is apparently a necessary precaution, though at the time I could not perceive any evidence of the many enemies that exist in other parts of North Africa, apart from the wax moth. I had observed no such dearth of bees in the Algerian Sahara. At Laghouat for instance — an oasis no larger than those visited in Morocco — there were at least fifty colonies: of black Tellian bees, of course. Admittedly, in the Moroccan oases there is no beekeeping; bees are merely housed and left alone. Now I have a measure of experience with the Saharan bee in England, I can only ascribe the scarcity of bees in its native habitat to a combination of exceptionally adverse circumstances. Indeed, it seems difficult to believe that this race should have been able to establish itself at all in such an environment, and survive to our day.
We were unable to include in our search the oases east of the Tafilalet, but went west from Ksar-es-Souk as far as Ouarzazate. We can say that sahariensis extends from Figuig to Ouarzazate, but the actual limits of its distribution east and west of these points remain undetermined.
From Ouarzazate we crossed the southern Atlas by the Col du Tichka (7448 ft), passing to our left the Dj Toubkal (13 644 ft), the highest mountain in North Africa. All the way from the Tafilalet to Ouarzazate we were rarely out of sight of snow-capped peaks. Now we were in the midst of snow again, but not for long; in another 74 miles Marrakesh was reached, from where we retraced our way northwards again. The primary objective of my visit to Morocco was to gain a first-hand knowledge of the Saharan bee and its habitat, but I also look the opportunity to extend my knowledge ofthe black North African bee found in the regions west of the Atlas. It was soon apparent that the French colonists had at one time or another imported queens from Italy, and possibly from America. Even south of Marrakesh indications of these imports could be observed. In general the black indigenous bee did not materially differ from the Tellian bees as found in Algeria — with the one difference that their temper, which was bad enough in Algeria, had here developed to a savage ferocity. I came across one exception near Petitjean, at a rather remote apiary of about 300 colonies belonging to a Berber family. Their bees resembled more closely in external appearance the Carniolan bee, and could he handled with a measure of impunity. If these colonies had been in modern hives, owned by Europeans, or within a few miles of a village or town, I would have concluded this was the result of an importation, but the apiary was far from any habitation; the owners lived in Bedouin-type tents; the hives were of wickerwork and lay abandoned amongst weeds and grass. And to complete this primitive picture, there was a skull of some creature hung up to ward off evil.
On our way northward from Marrakesh we traversed almost the whole length of Morocco. Due to the exceptional rainfall during the previous winter, the country was a riot of colour. Shortly after leaving Marrakech, and the last of the palm groves, we came to a veritable ocean of yellow extending as far as the eye could see, seemingly of the common mustard (Brassica campestris). A little further on were extensive areas of coriander (Coriandrum sativum), cultivated for its fruit. Bees were working the coriander vigorously. Presently great expanses of the North African marigold came into view. Most of the northern half of Morocco west of the Atlas was like a vast bed of flowers, with a greenhouse temperature and humidity. From all I could tell, this region must offer great possibilities to an enterprising apiarist.
Dr. BARNES and I had to leave the day after our return to Sidi-Yahia. Our hosts kindly accompanied us as far as Larache, where I took the last samples or the indigenous black Moroccan bee at an Agricultural Station close by. There we had to take leave of Mr. and Mrs. HACCOUR. Without their help I would have never been able to carry out this part of my search and, as I now realize, I would have missed a great deal of invaluable information and the acquisition of breeding stock which may in due course prove of far-reaching economic importance. I therefore wish to express to them here my deep gratitude for the help extended to me.
From Gibraltar Dr. BARNES left by air for England. I made my way by road to Barcelona, where I embarked on April 17th for Istanbul.
As the Karadeniz entered the Dardanelles by the first light of day on April 23rd, my thoughts went back to the time of the First World War. The ridges to the left, for which men fought so fiercely, were covered in spring-time flowers and glowing in the warmth of the rising sun. The mainland to the right was, I knew, regarded as one of the most favoured region for beekeeping in Asia Minor.
As indicated previously, I first visited Turkey in the autumn of 1954. On that occasion I came by road through Yugoslavia and northern Greece. Eight years ago the road from Istanbul to Ankara had only a gravel surface most of the way, and for many a mile a very indifferent one at that. To my pleasant surprise I now found a first-class motor road extending the whole distance.
On my previous visit I made my way to Ankara with a great measure of uncertainty as to what I should find. I knew that to the south of the Taurus I would meet an influence of the Syrian bee and, in the Far East, of the Caucasian. But I had no inkling what would await me in the rest of Turkey. Two years previously, at the time I was in Israel, I heard of a book Studies on the honeybee and beekeeping in Turkey by the late Prof. F.S. BODENHEIMER, who for a short while resided in Ankara. The book was published in 1942. However, it was not until August 1958 that I managed to obtain a copy on loan. A little later Prof. BODENHEIMER very kindly presented me a copy. But it was undoubtedly fortunate that I did not see a copy before 1954, for otherwise I might well have written off Asia Minor as of no practical importance in so far as my search was concerned. The book contains many interesting details concerning primitive hives and methods of beekeeping. The chapter on races deals mainly with biometrics and tentative generalisations. The matters of primary importance from my point of view — the physiological characteristics and qualities of economic value — are not discussed. A few are indirectly touched upon such as colony population counts made in the vicinity of Ankara, but these unfortunately convey the impression that the Central Anatolian bee is the least prolific of any known races, and for all practical purposes of no economic value. Also the statistics cited on the extreme fluctuations in colony numbers in certain areas might well he interpreted as indicating an inherent lack of stamina or inability to withstand exceptional winters. However, as my findings have shown, none of these assumptions have been borne out by practical experience. But, as I was able to indicate in the preliminary report published in 1958, the Central Anatolian race is of surpassing economic importance.
The first trip to Asia Minor embraced the country between Ankara, Sivas. Erzincan, Bayburt, Trebizond, Samsun, Sinop, Kastamonu; and westward as far south as Eskisehir and Bursa: broadly speaking the northern half of Turkey. The journey in 1962 covered the southern half, including the more important sections explored in 1954, but excluding the eastern military zone. The exclusion of this eastern zone was in many respects a great pity, but looking back, it may have been fortunate. Road conditions in Turkey, particularly in the more remote parts, are unimaginably bad, and the ground I managed to cover would have taxed any driver’s endurance. Conditions proved nearly impossible east and north-east of Ankara in 1962: the ground had not yet dried cut in May, and the danger of getting hogged down, with no help in sight, was always present. Rivers were still in spate, and had to be forded without knowing whether the depth of water was too great to prevent a safe crossing. The memory of the hazards, and of the experiences endured, will haunt me for a long time to come. Great improvements in road conditions are however now in progress, including the construction of arterial motor roads.
According to the Encyclopædia Britannica, Asia Minor includes Turkey proper, Armenia, Cyprus and the whole of the Arabian Peninsula. However, my search was on this occasion confined to what is commonly accepted as Asia Minor, the area bounded by the frontiers of modern Turkey east of the Bosphorus and Dardanelles, covering approximately 300 000 square miles, 900 miles from east to west and 300 miles from north to south. This is not a very large expanse of country, but a number of distinctive races have their habitat within it. This may seem surprising without a knowledge of the topography and climatic variations of the area.
Anatolia is ringed by mountain ranges to the north, east and south, and a minor range between the western spurs of the Pontic chain and the Lycian Taurus completes the ring. This western range, though attaining heights close to 8000 ft here and there, declines towards the Aegean and Sea of Marmora. In the far east the reverse is true, the highest altitude of 16 916 ft being attained in Mount Ararat — the traditional resting place of Noah’s ark. Within this ring of mountains is Central Anatolia, a steppe about 3000 ft above sea level.
Along the coast from Alexandretta to the Dardanelles the climate is Mediterranean, with rainy winters and dry summers. The northern seaboard, from the Bosphorus to Batum, has a heavy year-round rainfall, increasing as the Caucasus is approached. The average precipitation near the Soviet frontier is about 100 inches [250 cm]. I have a vivid memory of the night of my arrival in Trebizond at the end of August 1954, when it was raining with the intensity we are accustomed to in South Devon. In eastern Turkey, in former Armenia, the rainfall is by no means as heavy, but winters are severe and protracted. When 1 was in Erzincan in August 1954 I saw snow from the previous winter still lingering on the surrounding heights.
Central Anatolia has hot and dry summers and severe winters, with temperatures –46°F at Ankara. The rainfall is scanty, averaging 13 inches a year or less. A year-round rainfall, experienced along the Black Sea coast, is unknown in Central Anatolia, where the little that does fall comes mainly in winter and spring. Throughout the greater part of summer this section of Asia Minor presents a spectacle not greatly different from the Arabian Desert several hundred miles to the south-east. The huge salt lake, Tuz Gölü, in the heart of this plateau seems only to emphasize the barrenness of Central Anatolia.
In the fertile, semi-tropical plains and sheltered valleys of Cilicia and Antalya, eucalyptus, orange, lemon, date palm and cotton are some of the main sources of nectar. In the rich pastures of the southern slopes of the Taurus, various kinds of clover can he found. In the higher regions, oak and fir furnish honeydew and the alpine flora nectar. On the Black Sea coast we meet a far more varied and luxuriant vegetation than along the Mediterranean, due to the much higher and year-round rainfall, though west of the promontory of Sinop the vegetation tends to be poorer and less varied, as the rainfall gets less towards the Bosphorus. Almost immediately east of Sinop, between Gerze and Alçam, there is a large expanse of jungle, with a richness of vegetation I have not seen elsewhere on my travels. The world’s best tobacco comes from the area between Bafra and Samsun. East of Samsun olive and citrus can be seen everywhere; and east of Trebizond tea is extensively grown. On the high ground behind the coastal lowlands are forests of pine, fir, cedar, oak and beech. On the slopes facing north various Ericaceae are common, among them E. arborea and ling. Here also are Rhododendron ponticum and R. luteum, from which the poisonous honey is derived.
The vegetation of western Anatolia is more similar to that of southern Europe. The area south-west of Izmit is one of the world’s most bountiful fruit-growing regions. Though it is known principally for its figs and raisins, fruits of many kinds seem to grow to perfection here. This region is also the most favourable for beekeeping in Asia Minor. Central Anatolia is, on the other hand, the least favourable: spring makes its entry suddenly, with an ephemeral burst of growth, which by midsummer has wilted, the countryside becoming barren, brown and seared. There are almost no trees in this part of Turkey, except round human habitations. The villages and towns of this upland steppe resemble an oasis in summer, but in place of the palm tree the stately poplar reaches skywards. As one would expect, the honey flow in this region is brief but abundant, followed by three to four months of heat, drought and dearth before winter returns. In the spring flush or verdure, many flowers unknown to me graced the countryside. However, judging from the honey obtained and the vegetation I saw, I conclude that the primary sources of nectar are various species of thistle.
To the east of the central plateau, towards the Armenian highlands, the ground rises steadily with a corresponding increase in rainfall and in the severity of the climate. There is a gradual transition in the vegetation too: beyond Sivas green pastures can be found even in late summer. The honey here is similar to that derived in England from white clover, except that the density is higher. At Bayburt, at 5000 ft, the vegetation seems poor and sparse; nevertheless I came across some modern hives with two Langstroth supers solid with honey. Kars, close to the Soviet frontier, is reputed to be one of the best honey-producing vilayets; but here, as in many other areas with extensive forests, honeydew is the main source.
Asia Minor has since ancient times been known for its poisonous honey, derived from the violet-flowering Rhododendron ponticum and yellow azalea, more correctly R. luteum. These two shrubs grow wild en masse only on the Black Sea coast of Turkey, which is their native habitat. The general symptoms of poisoning are nausea, dizziness, headache, blurring of vision and temporary blindness, the severity depending on individual susceptibility and on the amount of poison ingested. Losses of bees have recently been reported in parts of Scotland where rhododendron are grown extensively, but on my visits to the Black Sea coast of Turkey I have never heard of loss of bees from this source.
At the Beekeeping Institute at Ankara I was shown a list of the nectar-bearing flora of Turkey. Included in this list were such well known sources as lime, acacia and chestnut trees, which I observed now and again, but never in sufficient numbers to constitute a source of any importance. To both my guides beekeeping was an unfamiliar subject, and the language difficulty proved an additional handicap. However, from the information gathered, I was left in no doubt that the diversity of flora offers great possibilities to the beekeeper in Asia Minor.
Agriculture is the main source of revenue in Turkey, and the main occupation of most of its people. Great strides have been made in raising the standard of every branch of agriculture since the end of the Ottoman Empire. Every vilayet now has a Director of Agriculture, and in many there is a College of Agriculture where both boys and girls are given free tuition. Beekeeping is included, and in the grounds of these colleges I found almost invariably a large modern apiary: one also had equipment for making comb foundation. There are also experimental centres and nurseries throughout the country, from which the enterprising farmer, fruit-grower or poultry-keeper is supplied high-class stock. Almost of these centres beekeeping is represented too, but the most important centre for all matters relating to apiculture is the Bee Institute already mentioned: Türkiye Aracilik Enstitüsü, Umam Müdürlügü, Ankara. A station for raising queens had been established here since my visit in 1954, and as far as I know it is the only place in Turkey where queen rearing is carried out on modern lines.
The Ministry of Agriculture periodically issues statistics which include the numbers of colonies kept in modern and primitive hives in each vilayet, but the figures given cannot be very exact. Large fluctuations in the number of colonies often occur, due to drought in Central Anatolia or to other exceptionally adverse conditions in the eastern sections of the country. It is generally assumed that the average number of colonies exceeds one million of which most are in primitive hives at present.
In no country I visited have I observed such a variety of primitive hives. In the northern half of Turkey, or wherever timber is abundant, oblong wooden hives about 3 ft ×10×8 inches [1 m ×25×20 cm] are in common use. They have a removable cover at the back, or more often a detachable section on top, for taking the honey at the end of the season. Log hives are in use, also logs split in half and hollowed out with a chisel. To get at the honey, the upper half is lifted off with the combs attached. Cylindrical hives in wickerwork appear more common in the southern parts of Asia Minor, but I have seen them here and there in the northern sections. All these hives, with few exceptions, were used in a horizontal position. Occasionally I saw box hives in open sheds stacked in tiers one on top of the other, but more usually they are set out singly. Near Isparta I came across wickerwork hives of about the size and shape of our skeps, but pointed and externally covered with clay. Many odd patterns can also be found upon occasion. Clay pipes, used generally in Syria and the other Arab countries, and in Cyprus, appear to be uncommon in Asia Minor.
Of modern hives, the Langstroth size and pattern are used almost exclusively, though at Aydin I came across an apiary with hives of an unusual size, fitted with twelve frames about 10×10 inches, set parallel to the entrance. The hives were expertly made and well kept, and everything indicated that the owner was a keen beekeeper. Near Trebizond I found to my amazement one of the latest fads, a hive fitted with tapering frames as advocated by a French inventor about fifteen years ago. Rather surprisingly, at a number of the Agricultural Colleges the hives were of an English pattern with gabled roofs, lifts with splints, porch and alighting board, and legs. How this pattern found its way to Asia Minor I was unable to discover.
The modern hive has not taken on in Turkey as quickly as in many other parts of the world, although the Ministry of Agriculture has spared no effort to get it adopted everywhere. Apparently the authorities did not at first appreciate that a modern hive is of no value without comb foundation and a honey extractor. On my first visit I observed a great deal of modern equipment in a derelict condition. Where it was in use, I was often confronted by a hopeless tangle of combs, built in any way the bees fancied. One beekeeper, appreciating the need for foundation, fitted the frames with plain sheets of wax, seemingly formed by pouring liquid wax on a slab of stone. It was not surprising therefore that a reversion to the primitive hive took place, for the old-time beekeepers knew how to deal with a colony in it, and how to take the honey at the end of the season. However, on my last visit I was pleased to note everywhere that modern hives were fitted with comb foundation. Great progress during the intervening eight years was apparent on all sides.
As we have seen, the Anatolian Peninsula presents every type of topographical variation. The climate ranges from sub-tropical to arid upland steppe and near arctic conditions, all within a relatively small compass. In such a wide variety of conditions one would expect a corresponding variation in the indigenous honeybees. This is in fact the case. Whilst we shall have to await the results of the biometric studies, made on the samples I have been able to collect on these journeys, before final classification is possible, I can indicate in general terms the races I have found, and some of their qualities and physiological characteristics.
Up to now there have been no importations of any consequence into Asia Minor. At the Agricultural Institute at Bursa I was told that at one time a number of experimental importations of Italian queens were made, but that the queens of foreign origin produced bad-tempered offspring when mated to native drones. In view of the unsatisfactory results obtained, the importations were discontinued. Moreover, as modern beekeeping is not as yet practised very extensively, it may be assumed that the bees now found have not been affected by cross-breeding and therefore embody the results of environment and of adjustments effected by Nature from time immemorial. Migratory beekeeping, which would have a bearing on this question, is not widely practised except in the western sectors adjoining the Aegean, where also the greatest concentration of colonies is found.
In the most southerly point of Turkey, at Antakya — the Antioch of ancient times — the bees do not differ from A. mellifera var. syriaca. This is also true at Gaziantep. However, at Mersin, although the bees are still extremely aggressive, they appear to me larger and more prolific, and by no means identical in external appearances to the pure syriaca. These differences have been confirmed in the crosses we have at present in our apiaries. Further to the north-east, at Malatya, the differences (apart from colour) are still more pronounced. This deep orange colour is found as far north as Erzincan, but I am unable to say how far eastward it extends. It is not found north of the Taurus. At Gümüsane, some 50 miles due north of Erzincan, we come to a pure black bee, which seems to me distinct from the Caucasian we already know. It may appear surprising that within such a short distance from Erzincan a race of bees should be found so different in external appearances as well as behaviour. These two places are however separated by a high mountain barrier, impossible for bees to cross. At Bayburt, 50 miles east of Gümüsane, situated at 5000 ft on the fringe of Armenian plateau, I came across what appeared to me a hybrid. On the Black Sea coast, the dark bee extends westward as far as Samsun. The range of distribution east of Trebizond remains undetermined. We have a few first-crosses of this black Pontic race in our apiaries at present, and have found them prolific, good foragers, but given to excessive swarming. This cross is different in many ways from any of the first-cross Caucasians we have up to now tried out.
We have at the present time pure and first-cross queens under test and observation from places ranging from Mersin in the south to Sinop in the north, and from the furthermost eastern sections of Asia Minor to the most westerly parts — including specimens from the European section of Turkey. But these tests have so far extended over one season only and, unfortunately, over a season which proved a complete failure, and followed the severest recorded winter in this part of the world since 1740. Therefore, apart from temper, fecundity, swarming tendency, thrift, wintering ability and a few other characteristics, it has not yet been possible to form an estimate of their relative honey-gathering ability. On the other hand, no better opportunity could have presented itself to test the wintering ability of these races and crosses than the arctic winter of 1962-63. With few exceptions the bees of Asia Minor withstood this test supremely well, both the pure and crossbred stock.
Whilst it has not yet been possible to assess the economic value of the importations made in 1962, the available evidence suggests that we shall not find a bee superior to that of Central Anatolia. The first importations of this race reached us in 1955 (A442), and I have therefore been able to form a fairly reliable estimate of its economic value.
From its first existence the honeybee has been forced to adjust itself to its immediate environment or perish. The indigenous bee of any particular region reflects in its characteristics the qualities needed for survival in that region. There is perhaps no more classical example than the native bee of Central Anatolia — A. mellifera var. anatolica.
I have already given an outline of the exceptional climate in the upland steppe of Central Anatolia; this in turn governs the flora on which the bee depends for its existence. In the Armenian highlands the winters are admittedly more severe and last longer, but the general conditions are not as exacting as in Central Anatolia — or for that matter anywhere else in Asia Minor.
The honeybee of Central Anatolia is of unimpressive appearance. She is small, resembling the Cyprian in size, but has none of the glamour or uniformity in colour of that race. The colour of the Anatolian bee can best be described as a smudgy orange, turning to brown on the posterior dorsal and ventral segments. The scutellum is usually dark orange. The queens have a dark crescent-shaped rim on each dorsal segment — a characteristic of all Eastern races — but here they are browny-black, and in place of the yellow or light orange we have a dark orange. But beneath this sombre exterior are hidden qualities of incomparable economic value.
The Anatolian tends to extremes in both its good and bad qualities. Fortunately, she has few undesirable characteristics, the most serious of them being her disposition to build brace-comb beyond all reason. This is of no great consequence in primitive beekeeping with fixed combs, but an excess of brace-comb renders null and void the essential advantage of a modern hive. The Anatolian in addition uses propolis freely, which accentuates the drawbacks of the brace-comb. However, both these defects are largely mitigated, if not eliminated, when queens of this race are crossed with a good strain of Italian or possibly Carniolan. Indeed, it is only when suitably crossed — either in a first or second cross — that most beekeepers can hope to secure the best economic results from the Anatolian bee.
As for her good qualities, I believe I can state in all truth, that the Anatolian stands beyond comparison — certainly in foraging powers, thrift and wintering abilities. When crossed, she is extremely prolific. By mid-June a twelve-frame Modified Dadant brood chamber will usually be found chock-a-block with brood and honey. However, she does not breed to excess out of season, as so many other races are disposed to do. She is slow in building up in spring; she will not make a determined effort at extending her brood nest before settled weather has set in, but will then outstrip every other race. She does not squander precious stores and energy in premature and futile endeavours, in changeable and unfavourable early spring weather. After the main honey flow, and in times of dearth, she contrives to husband her reserves of stores and energy in an uncanny way. I regard the thrift of the Anatolian — particularly in our uncertain climatic conditions and honey flows — as one of her most valuable economic qualities, a quality which is sadly lacking in so many of our present-day strains, which breed to excess in times of dearth. Experience has shown that the Anatolian bee will take care of herself in times of dearth and in seasons of failure, when others die of starvation.
I have stressed the great fecundity and breeding powers of this race. I would however point out that, were it deemed desirable, one could without much difficulty develop a strain by selection which would accommodate itself readily to a single brood-chamber of British Standard dimensions.
Though so prolific when crossed, the Anatolian is not given to swarming, as our experience has demonstrated. She is also very good tempered, bearing manipulation with the greatest calm and composure, although she definitely resents interference in cold weather and late in the evening. Moreover, with regard to temper, there appears to be a considerable variation in strains, as I could verify myself when in Turkey. But the Anatolian is no exception in this respect; there is to my knowledge no race which does not show up a difference in temper between one strain and another. When unsuitably crossed, or when mated at random to drones of unknown origin, bad temper will result in almost any strain or race.
As already indicated, the Anatolian is endowed with an inexhaustible capacity for work — a faculty which enables her to turn her other good qualities into something of concrete value. Indeed, this bee embodies the highest development of industry and honey-gathering ability of any race known to me. In addition, we have here a bee that not only does extremely well in a good season, but one that does exceptionally well in indifferent and poor seasons. This is of far greater consequence and practical importance than a surpassing performance in an occasional really good season. The ability to do well even in the poorest of summers was clearly demonstrated during the disastrous season of 1963. On the other hand, in the exceptionally good season of 1959, when our average honey yield amounted to 169½ lb. per colony, the Anatolian crosses far exceeded this figure, and fulfilled our expectations in every way.
The Anatolian possesses many qualities and characteristics which may bewilder those who are unacquainted with the peculiarities of the race. For instance, Anatolian queens will usually take up to a week longer before commencing to lay after mating. This peculiarity has seemingly nothing to do with the weather, for the same delay would occur when under ideal mating conditions. On the other hand, I have found that 25% of the queens will give a full four years’ service, with unimpaired energy and fecundity, even in a normal honey-producing colony. It may be assumed that this exceptional longevity — which is most remarkable considering the great fecundity of the queens — is in some measure transmitted to the worker progeny. The extraordinary strength of the colonies, in relation to the actual fecundity of the queens, could not well be explained otherwise.
I wish to emphasize once more: the pure Anatolian cannot be relied on for maximum performance. It is only when suitably crossed that the full economic potentialities of the race come to the fore. Furthermore, as no selection has been done in its homeland up to now, queens of the best stock are not readily obtainable. But no doubt, in view of the great progress now under way in Turkey, the prospects of obtaining select breeding stock should materially improve.
Whilst I have had the good fortune to discover in the Central Anatolian bee a race of surpassing economic value, the two journeys to Asia Minor were accompanied by untold vicissitudes and difficulties. I was also compelled to cut short the programme in 1962, due to an accident. When travelling beside the shores of Lake Egridir a tyre burst — though I had special heavy-duty tyres fitted as a safeguard against such an occurrence. The car plunged down the high embankment and overturned on a heap of rubble. Fortunately, the damage was mainly superficial. With the arrival of help, the car was put back on the road and we were able to proceed to the next village. For the essential repairs I had to wait until I reached Salonika some weeks later.
I desire to express my appreciation and thanks to the Turkish Ministry of Agriculture for the help rendered, and also to the two officials Mr. Sevki Akalin, who accompanied me in 1954, and Mr. Karaman, who took over this task in 1962. I also wish to express my sincere thanks to the British Embassy, as well as to the American Embassy, for the invaluable help extended to me.