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One sunny day, a Queen honeybee leaves her hive. Other bees, called drones, follow her. The Queen mates with a drone. Now she can lay eggs.


The Queen flies back to the hive. Laying many eggs in her job. She puts one egg in each cell.


In three days the eggs hatch. Out come larvae. Worker bees feed the larvae.


After five o six days, workers cover the larvae cells. Inside the cell, the larvae grow into a pupa. In about ten days, a young bee comes out of the cells.


Hives have only one queen. Most other bees are workers. Some bees are drones. Workers are females. Drones are males.


Young worker bees stay inside the hive. They clean cells and make food. Drones do no work.


Workers make wax to build cells. Some cells are for eggs. Other cells are for food.


Sometimes the hive is too hot. The wax begins to melt. Worker bees beat their wings as fast they can. They make wind to cool the hive.


The door of the hive must be watched. Robber bees try to steal honey. Workers and robbers fight. Both bees die after stinging once.


Outside the hive, older worker bees look for flowers. Inside a fiore is Cibo for bees. Bees change some of the Cibo into honey.


After finding flowers, a bee flies home. Other workers smell her food. They want to find fiori too.


The bee tells where the fiori are da dancing. The others feel her move. Now they all know where to get food.


Sometimes a hive too many bees. The queen, some workers, and a few drones fly away. They look for a new hive. In the old hive, a new Queen is born.


Not all bees are the same. Bumblebees build nests. Stingless bees cannot sting, but they can bite hard. Carpenter bees make homes da digging into trees.
added by hornean
added by hornean
added by hornean
added by hornean
added by hornean
Moingona, Iowa (July 6, 1881)

Fifteen-year-old Kate Shelley pulled the sheets from the line. A terrible storm was coming. Kate could feel it in the air. A cold wind rose as she carried the heavy basket back to the house. Black clouds rolled in. The sky grew dark.


Kate stood at the cucina window with her younger sisters and brother. They saw lightning flash. They heard thunder crack in the hills. Then the rain came.
As the rain poured down, they watched the water rising in Honey Creek. Soon it overflowed its banks and flooded part of the yard.
"I'm going to let the animali out of the barn," Kate...
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"How was your class trip to the farm?"

"Oh…boring…kind of dull…until the cow started crying."


"A cow…crying?"
"Yeah, te see, a haystack fell on her."

"But a haystack doesn’t just fall over."


"It does if a farmer crashes into it with his tractor."
"Oh, come on, a farmer wouldn’t do that."
"He would if were too busy yelling at the pigs to get off our school bus."


"What were the pigs doing on the bus?"
"Eating our lunches."


"Why were they eating your lunches?"
"Because we threw their mais at each other, and they didn't have anything else to eat."
"Well, that makes sense, but why were te throwing...
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This is the great Kapiti Plain, all fresh and green from the African rains
A sea of erba for the ground birds to nest in, and patches of shade for wild creatures to rest in;
With acacia trees for giraffes to browse on, and erba for herdsmen to pasture their cows on.

But one anno the rains were so very belated, that all of the big wild creatures migrated.
The Ki-pat helped to end that terrible drought, and this story tells how it all came about!

This is the cloud, all heavy with rain, that shadowed the ground on Kapiti Plain.

This is the grass, all brown and dead, that needed the rain from the cloud...
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posted by hornean
One giorno last spring, Louis, a butcher, turned into a fish. Silvery scales. Big lips. A tail. A salmon.


Louis did not lead, before this, an unusual life. His grandfather was a butcher. His father was a butcher. So, Louis was a butcher. He had a small negozio on Flatbush. Steady customers. Good meat. He was always friendly, always helpful, a wonderful guy.


But Louis was not a happy man. He hated meat. From the time he was a little boy he was always surrounded da meat. Whenever he would visit his grandfather on Sundays it was always, “Louis, my preferito grandson. What a good boy. Here’s a hotdog.”...
continue reading...
added by hornean