There are your lifeforms.
These were microbes
on the tube's surface.
We shot Them Here
from Enterprise.
...They were fruitful, and multiplied.
CHAPTER I.
HOW MANY KINDS OF PRINCIPALITIES THERE ARE, AND BY WHAT MEANS THEY ARE ACQUIRED
All states, all powers, that have held and hold rule over men have been and are either republics or principalities.
Principalities are either hereditary, in which the family has been long established; or they are new.
The new are either entirely new, as was Milan to Francesco Sforza, or they are, as it were, members annexed to the hereditary state of the prince who has acquired them, as was the kingdom of Naples to that of the King of Spain.
Such dominions thus acquired are either accustomed to live under a prince, or to live in freedom; and are acquired either by the arms of the prince himself, or of others, or else by fortune or by ability.
CHAPTER II.
CONCERNING HEREDITARY PRINCIPALITIES
I will leave out all discussion on republics, inasmuch as in another place I have written of them at length, and will address myself only to principalities. In doing so I will keep to the order indicated above, and discuss how such principalities are to be ruled and preserved.
I say at once there are fewer difficulties in holding hereditary states, and those long accustomed to the family of their prince, than new ones; for it is sufficient only not to transgress the customs of his ancestors, and to deal prudently with circumstances as they arise, for a prince of average powers to maintain himself in his state, unless he be deprived of it by some extraordinary and excessive force; and if he should be so deprived of it, whenever anything sinister happens to the usurper, he will regain it.
We have in Italy, for example, the Duke of Ferrara, who could not have withstood the attacks of the Venetians in ’84, nor those of Pope Julius in ’10, unless he had been long established in his dominions. For the hereditary prince has less cause and less necessity to offend; hence it happens that he will be more loved; and unless extraordinary vices cause him to be hated, it is reasonable to expect that his subjects will be naturally well disposed towards him; and in the antiquity and duration of his rule the memories and motives that make for change are lost, for one change always leaves the toothing for another.
CHAPTER III.
CONCERNING MIXED PRINCIPALITIES
But the difficulties occur in a new principality. And firstly, if it be not entirely new, but is, as it were, a member of a state which, taken collectively, may be called composite, the changes arise chiefly from an inherent difficulty which there is in all new principalities; for men change their rulers willingly, hoping to better themselves, and this hope induces them to take up arms against him who rules: wherein they are deceived, because they afterwards find by experience they have gone from bad to worse. This follows also on another natural and common necessity, which always causes a new prince to burden those who have submitted to him with his soldiery and with infinite other hardships which he must put upon his new acquisition.
In this way you have enemies in all those whom you have injured in seizing that principality, and you are not able to keep those friends who put you there because of your not being able to satisfy them in the way they expected, and you cannot take strong measures against them, feeling bound to them. For, although one may be very strong in armed forces, yet in entering a province one has always need of the goodwill of the natives.
For these reasons Louis the Twelfth, King of France, quickly occupied Milan, and as quickly lost it; and to turn him out the first time it only needed Lodovico’s own forces; because those who had opened the gates to him, finding themselves deceived in their hopes of future benefit, would not endure the ill-treatment of the new prince. It is very true that, after acquiring rebellious provinces a second time, they are not so lightly lost afterwards, because the prince, with little reluctance, takes the opportunity of the rebellion to punish the delinquents, to clear out the suspects, and to strengthen himself in the weakest places. Thus to cause France to lose Milan the first time it was enough for the Duke Lodovico[1] to raise insurrections on the borders; but to cause him to lose it a second time it was necessary to bring the whole world against him, and that his armies should be defeated and driven out of Italy; which followed from the causes above mentioned.
Nevertheless Milan was taken from France both the first and the second time. The general reasons for the first have been discussed; it remains to name those for the second, and to see what resources he had, and what any one in his situation would have had for maintaining himself more securely in his acquisition than did the King of France.
Now I say that those dominions which, when acquired, are added to an ancient state by him who acquires them, are either of the same country and language, or they are not. When they are, it is easier to hold them, especially when they have not been accustomed to self-government; and to hold them securely it is enough to have destroyed the family of the prince who was ruling them; because the two peoples, preserving in other things the old conditions, and not being unlike in customs, will live quietly together, as one has seen in Brittany, Burgundy, Gascony, and Normandy, which have been bound to France for so long a time: and, although there may be some difference in language, nevertheless the customs are alike, and the people will easily be able to get on amongst themselves. He who has annexed them, if he wishes to hold them, has only to bear in mind two considerations: the one, that the family of their former lord is extinguished; the other, that neither their laws nor their taxes are altered, so that in a very short time they will become entirely one body with the old principality.
But when states are acquired in a country differing in language, customs, or laws, there are difficulties, and good fortune and great energy are needed to hold them, and one of the greatest and most real helps would be that he who has acquired them should go and reside there. This would make his position more secure and durable, as it has made that of the Turk in Greece, who, notwithstanding all the other measures taken by him for holding that state, if he had not settled there, would not have been able to keep it. Because, if one is on the spot, disorders are seen as they spring up, and one can quickly remedy them; but if one is not at hand, they are heard of only when they are great, and then one can no longer remedy them. Besides this, the country is not pillaged by your officials; the subjects are satisfied by prompt recourse to the prince; thus, wishing to be good, they have more cause to love him, and wishing to be otherwise, to fear him. He who would attack that state from the outside must have the utmost caution; as long as the prince resides there it can only be wrested from him with the greatest difficulty.
The other and better course is to send colonies to one or two places, which may be as keys to that state, for it is necessary either to do this or else to keep there a great number of cavalry and infantry. A prince does not spend much on colonies, for with little or no expense he can send them out and keep them there, and he offends a minority only of the citizens from whom he takes lands and houses to give them to the new inhabitants; and those whom he offends, remaining poor and scattered, are never able to injure him; whilst the rest being uninjured are easily kept quiet, and at the same time are anxious not to err for fear it should happen to them as it has to those who have been despoiled. In conclusion, I say that these colonies are not costly, they are more faithful, they injure less, and the injured, as has been said, being poor and scattered, cannot hurt.
Upon this, one has to remark that men ought either to be well treated or crushed, because they can avenge themselves of lighter injuries, of more serious ones they cannot; therefore the injury that is to be done to a man ought to be of such a kind that one does not stand in fear of revenge.
But in maintaining armed men there in place of colonies one spends much more, having to consume on the garrison all the income from the state, so that the acquisition turns into a loss, and many more are exasperated, because the whole state is injured; through the shifting of the garrison up and down all become acquainted with hardship, and all become hostile, and they are enemies who, whilst beaten on their own ground, are yet able to do hurt. For every reason, therefore, such guards are as useless as a colony is useful.
Again, the prince who holds a country differing in the above respects ought to make himself the head and defender of his less powerful neighbours, and to weaken the more powerful amongst them, taking care that no foreigner as powerful as himself shall, by any accident, get a footing there; for it will always happen that such a one will be introduced by those who are discontented, either through excess of ambition or through fear, as one has seen already. The Romans were brought into Greece by the Ætolians; and in every other country where they obtained a footing they were brought in by the inhabitants. And the usual course of affairs is that, as soon as a powerful foreigner enters a country, all the subject states are drawn to him, moved by the hatred which they feel against the ruling power. So that in respect to those subject states he has not to take any trouble to gain them over to himself, for the whole of them quickly rally to the state which he has acquired there. He has only to take care that they do not get hold of too much power and too much authority, and then with his own forces, and with their goodwill, he can easily keep down the more powerful of them, so as to remain entirely master in the country. And he who does not properly manage this business will soon lose what he has acquired, and whilst he does hold it he will have endless difficulties and troubles.
The Romans, in the countries which they annexed, observed closely these measures; they sent colonies and maintained friendly relations with[2] the minor powers, without increasing their strength; they kept down the greater, and did not allow any strong foreign powers to gain authority. Greece appears to me sufficient for an example. The Achaeans and Ætolians were kept friendly by them, the kingdom of Macedonia was humbled, Antiochus was driven out; yet the merits of the Achaeans and Ætolians never secured for them permission to increase their power, nor did the persuasions of Philip ever induce the Romans to be his friends without first humbling him, nor did the influence of Antiochus make them agree that he should retain any lordship over the country. Because the Romans did in these instances what all prudent princes ought to do, who have to regard not only present troubles, but also future ones, for which they must prepare with every energy, because, when foreseen, it is easy to remedy them; but if you wait until they approach, the medicine is no longer in time because the malady has become incurable; for it happens in this, as the physicians say it happens in hectic fever, that in the beginning of the malady it is easy to cure but difficult to detect, but in the course of time, not having been either detected or treated in the beginning, it becomes easy to detect but difficult to cure. Thus it happens in affairs of state, for when the evils that arise have been foreseen (which it is only given to a wise man to see), they can be quickly redressed, but when, through not having been foreseen, they have been permitted to grow in a way that every one can see them, there is no longer a remedy. Therefore, the Romans, foreseeing troubles, dealt with them at once, and, even to avoid a war, would not let them come to a head, for they knew that war is not to be avoided, but is only to be put off to the advantage of others; moreover they wished to fight with Philip and Antiochus in Greece so as not to have to do it in Italy; they could have avoided both, but this they did not wish; nor did that ever please them which is forever in the mouths of the wise ones of our time:—Let us enjoy the benefits of the time—but rather the benefits of their own valour and prudence, for time drives everything before it, and is able to bring with it good as well as evil, and evil as well as good.
But let us turn to France and inquire whether she has done any of the things mentioned. I will speak of Louis[3] (and not of Charles)[4]as the one whose conduct is the better to be observed, he having held possession of Italy for the longest period; and you will see that he has done the opposite to those things which ought to be done to retain a state composed of divers elements.
King Louis was brought into Italy by the ambition of the Venetians, who desired to obtain half the state of Lombardy by his intervention. I will not blame the course taken by the king, because, wishing to get a foothold in Italy, and having no friends there—seeing rather that every door was shut to him owing to the conduct of Charles—he was forced to accept those friendships which he could get, and he would have succeeded very quickly in his design if in other matters he had not made some mistakes. The king, however, having acquired Lombardy, regained at once the authority which Charles had lost: Genoa yielded; the Florentines became his friends; the Marquess of Mantua, the Duke of Ferrara, the Bentivogli, my lady of Forli, the Lords of Faenza, of Pesaro, of Rimini, of Camerino, of Piombino, the Lucchese, the Pisans, the Sienese—everybody made advances to him to become his friend. Then could the Venetians realize the rashness of the course taken by them, which, in order that they might secure two towns in Lombardy, had made the king master of two-thirds of Italy.
Let any one now consider with what little difficulty the king could have maintained his position in Italy had he observed the rules above laid down, and kept all his friends secure and protected; for although they were numerous they were both weak and timid, some afraid of the Church, some of the Venetians, and thus they would always have been forced to stand in with him, and by their means he could easily have made himself secure against those who remained powerful. But he was no sooner in Milan than he did the contrary by assisting Pope Alexander to occupy the Romagna. It never occurred to him that by this action he was weakening himself, depriving himself of friends and of those who had thrown themselves into his lap, whilst he aggrandized the Church by adding much temporal power to the spiritual, thus giving it greater authority. And having committed this prime error, he was obliged to follow it up, so much so that, to put an end to the ambition of Alexander, and to prevent his becoming the master of Tuscany, he was himself forced to come into Italy.
And as if it were not enough to have aggrandized the Church, and deprived himself of friends, he, wishing to have the kingdom of Naples, divided it with the King of Spain, and where he was the prime arbiter in Italy he takes an associate, so that the ambitious of that country and the malcontents of his own should have somewhere to shelter; and whereas he could have left in the kingdom his own pensioner as king, he drove him out, to put one there who was able to drive him, Louis, out in turn.
The wish to acquire is in truth very natural and common, and men always do so when they can, and for this they will be praised not blamed; but when they cannot do so, yet wish to do so by any means, then there is folly and blame. Therefore, if France could have attacked Naples with her own forces she ought to have done so; if she could not, then she ought not to have divided it. And if the partition which she made with the Venetians in Lombardy was justified by the excuse that by it she got a foothold in Italy, this other partition merited blame, for it had not the excuse of that necessity.
Therefore Louis made these five errors: he destroyed the minor powers, he increased the strength of one of the greater powers in Italy, he brought in a foreign power, he did not settle in the country, he did not send colonies. Which errors, had he lived, were not enough to injure him had he not made a sixth by taking away their dominions from the Venetians; because, had he not aggrandized the Church, nor brought Spain into Italy, it would have been very reasonable and necessary to humble them; but having first taken these steps, he ought never to have consented to their ruin, for they, being powerful, would always have kept off others from designs on Lombardy, to which the Venetians would never have consented except to become masters themselves there; also because the others would not wish to take Lombardy from France in order to give it to the Venetians, and to run counter to both they would not have had the courage.
And if any one should say: “King Louis yielded the Romagna to Alexander and the kingdom to Spain to avoid war,” I answer for the reasons given above that a blunder ought never to be perpetrated to avoid war, because it is not to be avoided, but is only deferred to your disadvantage. And if another should allege the pledge which the king had given to the Pope that he would assist him in the enterprise, in exchange for the dissolution of his marriage[5] and for the cap to Rouen,[6] to that I reply what I shall write later on concerning the faith of princes, and how it ought to be kept.
Thus King Louis lost Lombardy by not having followed any of the conditions observed by those who have taken possession of countries and wished to retain them. Nor is there any miracle in this, but much that is reasonable and quite natural. And on these matters I spoke at Nantes with Rouen, when Valentino, as Cesare Borgia, the son of Pope Alexander, was usually called, occupied the Romagna, and on Cardinal Rouen observing to me that the Italians did not understand war, I replied to him that the French did not understand statecraft, meaning that otherwise they would not have allowed the Church to reach such greatness. And in fact it has been seen that the greatness of the Church and of Spain in Italy has been caused by France, and her ruin may be attributed to them. From this a general rule is drawn which never or rarely fails: that he who is the cause of another becoming powerful is ruined; because that predominancy has been brought about either by astuteness or else by force, and both are distrusted by him who has been raised to power.
- i -
THE HONEY-BEE:
ITS NATURE, HOMES, AND PRODUCTS.
- iv -
Comb, Showing Different Kinds of Cells.
ITS NATURE, HOMES, AND PRODUCTS.
BY
W. H. HARRIS, B.A., B.Sc.
LONDON:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
56, Paternoster Row; 65, St. Paul's Churchyard,
and 164, Piccadilly.
- vi -
LONDON:
R. Clay, Sons, and Taylor, Printers,
BREAD STREET HILL.
PAGES
INTRODUCTION.
1-3
CHAPTER I.
HISTORIC SKETCH.
Holy Scriptures—Vedas—Egyptian Monuments—The Koran—Etymological
Considerations—Literature of Subject—Aristotle—Philiscus—Pliny—Vergil—Columella—Other
Classical Authors—Shakespeare—Modern Writers.
4-9
CHAPTER II.
NATURAL HISTORY.
Orders of Insects—Stages of Development—Egg, Larva, Pupa,
Imago or Perfect Insect—Three Classes of Bees: Queen,
Drones, Workers.
10-16
CHAPTER III.
THE QUEEN-BEE.
Early Errors as to Sex—The "Mother Bee"—Distinguishing
Characteristics—Functions—Attentions paid her—Effects of
Loss; how Repaired by Bees—Enmity to Rivals—Length of
Life—Egg-laying.
17-28
- viii -
CHAPTER IV.
THE DRONES.
Distinguishing Characteristics—Time of Hatching—Numbers—Purposes
served by them—Destruction by Workers or other
means—Unusual Survival.
29-34
CHAPTER V.
THE WORKERS.
Distinguishing Characteristics—Supposed Differences of Function
among them—Sir John Lubbock's Experiments—Fertile
Workers—Length of Life—"Black Bees"—Duties of
Workers.
35-43
CHAPTER VI.
HONEY.
Origin—How Collected and Stored—Constitution—Poisonous
Honey—Best varieties of Honey—Distances traversed by
Bees in search of Honey—Uses
44-48
CHAPTER VII.
MEAD.
Nature—Method of Manufacture—Metheglin and Mead—Estimation
in former times—Queen Elizabeth's Recipe—Scandinavian
liking for Mead.
49-52
CHAPTER VIII.
WAX.
Origin—Production—Chemical Constitution—Comb-Building—Detailed
Description—Amount of Wax in Hives—Commercial Value—Properties.
53-71
CHAPTER IX.
POLLEN, OR BEE-BREAD.
Origin—Collection—Conveyance—Deposition—Quantity Stored—Uses—Artificial
Substitutes.
72-75
- ix -
CHAPTER X.
PROPOLIS.
Derivation of Word—Sources—Nature—Purposes—Quantity Collected—Adaptation
of Materials to Wants of Bees.
76-79
CHAPTER XI.
PHYSIOLOGY OF THE BEE.
Nervous System—The Head—Eyes—Compound and Simple—Uses
and Powers—Sir John Lubbock's Experiments—The
Antennæ—Structure and Uses—Mouth—Detailed Description.
80-100
CHAPTER XII.
HEARING, TASTE, AND SMELLING.
Hearing—Sir John Lubbock's Experiments—Sounds uttered by
Queen—Effects produced by them—Smell-Organs—Purposes—Liking
for, and Antipathy to, certain Effluvia—Discovery
by Bees of Nectar and Honey
101-108
CHAPTER XIII.
THE THORAX.
Detailed Description—Legs—Wings—How used in Flight—Hooking
together—Employed for Ventilating.
109-114
CHAPTER XIV.
THE ABDOMEN.
Respiratory Organs—Circulation of Nutritive Fluid—Digestion
and Nutrition—Secretion of Wax—Reproductive Organs—Detailed
description of Sting—Effects of Poison—Queen's
Sting.
115-128
- x -
CHAPTER XV.
THE DISEASES OF BEES.
Dysentery: How Produced—Indications—Treatment. Foul-Brood:
two kinds—Nature—Propagation. Mr. Cheshire's
Discoveries and Treatment—Fatal Effects of Disease—Detection—Vertigo—Analogy
of Human and Bee Diseases.
129-138
CHAPTER XVI.
THE ENEMIES OF BEES.
Birds—Mice—Moths—Braula cÅ“ca—Hornets and Wasps—Spiders—Toads—"Robber
Bees"—Prevention of robbing.
139-147
CHAPTER XVII.
HIVES.
Natural Abodes of Wild Bees—Taking Honey from Roof of
House—Straw Skeps—Cottager's Hive—Supering—Nutt's
Collateral Hive—Village Hive—Woodbury Hive—Abbott's
Hives—Sectional Supering—Stewarton Hive—Carr-Stewarton
Hive—Observatory Hives—Bee-houses.
148-170
CHAPTER XVIII.
NATURAL SWARMING.
General Facts connected with Swarming—Reconnoitring—Settling—Hiving—Curious
Incidents—Transferring Swarms to
Bar-Frame Hives—Division of Swarms—Placing Swarm in
Permanent Position-Number of Bees in Swarming—"Casts"
and Later Swarms—Prevention of Swarming—Feeding of Swarms.
171-186
CHAPTER XIX.
ARTIFICIAL SWARMING.
Advantages—Driving: Close and Open—Transfer to Bar-Frame
Hive—Conditions of Successful Driving—Various Methods
of Artificial Swarming with Bar-Frame Hives.
187-195
- xi -
CHAPTER XX.
QUEEN REARING.
Protection of Queen-cells—Nucleus Hives—Various Methods of
Queen Rearing—American Plan—Introduction of Stranger
Queens—Difficulties.
196-200
CHAPTER XXI.
FEEDING.
Troughs—Dangers of this Method—Bottle Feeders—Cheshire's
Feeding Stage—Neighbour's Can Feeder—The "Round Feeder"—Autumn
Feeding—Spring Feeding—Uses of Precautions—Summer Feeding
of Swarms—Flour-cake—Barley-sugar or Sugar-cake—Mr. Hunter's Recipe.
201-213
CHAPTER XXII.
WINTERING BEES.
False and True Hybernation—Temperature of Hive in Winter—Necessity
for Quiet during Winter—Structure and Winter-packing
of Bar-Frame Hives—Prevention of Draught and
Condensation of Vapour—Supply of Water.
214-220
CHAPTER XXIII.
BEE-STINGS.
Gentleness necessary in Manipulation—Causes of Irritation of
Bees—Examination of Stocks—Treatment of Stings—Remedies—Effects
of Stings—Inoculation—Bee Dress—Smoke
and its Uses.
221-228
CHAPTER XXIV.
PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS OF BEES.
Affection for Queen and Brood—Recognition of Friends and
Strangers—Fear—Anger—Covetousness—Benevolence—Remorse—Hope—Instinctive
or Sense-action.
229-233
- xii -
CHAPTER XXV.
INTELLECT AND INSTINCT IN BEES.
Intellect in Man and Animals as Related to Immortality—Memory—Judgment—Instances
of Attention—Prevision—Provision—Instinct—Manifestations—Bearing
on Evolution.
234-243
CHAPTER XXVI.
BEES IN RELATION TO FLOWERS.
Connection of Plant-life and Insect-life—Reproduction of Flowers—Intervention
of Insects—Hermaphrodite Flowers—Cross-fertilisation—Cucumbers,
Melons, &c.—Poplars—Firs—Epilobium
or Willow Herb—Cincerarias—Darwin's Experiments—Nasturtium—Foxglove—Figwort—Salvia—Heath—Strawberry,
Raspberry, and Blackberry—Apple and Pear—Altruism of Bees.
244-258
CHAPTER XXVII.
SUPERSTITIONS CONNECTED WITH BEES.
Superstitions likely to gather around Bees—Unlucky to Buy Bees—Ill
Omen for a Swarm to Settle on a Dry Stick—"Have
the Bees been told?"—Turning Hives on the Death of the
Owner—Probable Origin of these Errors.
259-267
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE PROFITS OF BEE-KEEPING.
Methods of Honey-taking—Straw Caps—Bell-Glasses—Sections—Frames—Extractors—Run
Honey—Average Returns of Hives.
268-272
- xiii -
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
| Fig. |
|
PAGE |
|
Comb, Showing Different Kinds of Cells |
Frontispiece |
| 1. |
Eggs and Larva of Bees |
12 |
| 2. |
Larvæ |
13 |
| 3. |
Sealed Cells |
14 |
| 4. |
a, Larva full grown, viewed sideways,
b, Larva preparing for Pupa state |
15 |
| 5. |
Worker Larva and Pupa in Comb |
16 |
| 6. |
The Queen of the Hive |
19 |
| 7. |
Queen Surrounded by Attendants |
20 |
| 8. |
A Drone |
29 |
| 9. |
A Worker Bee |
35 |
| 10. |
A Worker Bee, showing the Scales of Wax |
53 |
| 11. |
Festoons of Bees Suspended from the Roof of the Hive |
55 |
| 12. |
Cluster of Bees |
58 |
| 13. |
Wax-Worker commencing a Comb |
59 |
| 14. |
Diagram of Cells |
63 |
| 15. |
Supposed Circular Cells |
63 |
| 16. |
Arrangement of Cells |
64 |
| 17. |
Diagram showing Slope of Cells |
66 |
| 18. |
Arrangement of Combs in a Bell-Glass |
68 |
| 19. |
The Queen Cell |
69 |
| 20. |
Queen Cells in situ |
70 |
| 21. |
Hind-leg of a Bee |
73 |
| 22. |
Nervous System of Privet Hawk Moth |
81 |
| 23. |
Nervous System of Larva of Bee
- xiv - |
82 |
| 24. |
Nervous System of Perfect Insect |
83 |
| 25. |
Eyes of a Bee (greatly magnified) |
85 |
| 26. |
Facets of Eye of a Bee |
86 |
| 27. |
Head of Bee, With Antennæ |
98 |
| 28. |
Lower Segments of Hind-leg of Bee, considerably enlarged |
110 |
| 29. |
Complete Hind-leg of Bee |
110 |
| 30. |
Wing of Bee |
112 |
| 31. |
Hooklets of a Bee's Wing |
113 |
| 32. |
Abdomen of Bee, showing Respiratory Organs |
116 |
| 33. |
Air-sacs of Worker |
117 |
| 34. |
a, Air-sacs; b, Ovaries, of the Queen |
118 |
| 35. |
a, Tracheæ; b, Elastic Spiral of Tracheæ |
119 |
| 36. |
Under Side of Abdomen, showing Wax Scales |
121 |
| 37. |
Bee, showing the Wax Scales |
121 |
| 38. |
Scales |
121 |
| 39. |
Ovaries and Spermatheca of Queen |
123 |
| 40. |
Sting of a Bee (greatly magnified) |
125 |
| 41. |
Barbs of a Bee's Sting (very highly magnified) |
126 |
| 42. |
The Enemies of Bees |
141 |
| 43. |
Straw Skep |
150 |
| 44. |
Flat-topped Hive and Straw Super |
151 |
| 45. |
Neighbour's Improved Cottager's Hive |
152 |
| 46. |
" " " |
153 |
| 47. |
Modern Hives. Nutt's Collateral Hive in the Foreground |
155 |
| 48. |
The Woodbury Hive |
157 |
| 49. |
Woodbury Straw Bar-frame Hive |
157 |
| 50. |
Cheshire's Bar-frame Hive |
159 |
| 51. |
Cheshire's Bar-frame Hive (sectional view) |
160 |
| 52. |
Abbott's Standard Frame |
161 |
| 53. |
" " (top view) |
161 |
| 54. |
Neighbour's Sectional Super (open) |
162 |
| 55. |
Frame Super |
162 |
| 56. |
Glass Frame Hive, with Super |
163 |
| 57. |
Stewarton Hive |
165 |
| 58. |
The Carr-Stewarton Hive
- xv - |
167 |
| 59. |
Unicomb Observatory Hive |
168 |
| 60. |
A Swarm |
173 |
| 61. |
"Tanging" |
174 |
| 62. |
Hiving a Swarm |
179 |
| 63. |
Swarming Board |
192 |
| 64. |
Queen Cage over Sealed Cell |
197 |
| 65. |
Inserted Queen Cell |
198 |
| 66. |
Bottle Feeder |
202 |
| 67. |
Cheshire's Feeding Stage |
203 |
| 68. |
Can Feeder |
205 |
| 69. |
Round Tin Feeder |
205 |
| 70. |
Epilobium Angustifolium. (Young Bloom) |
248 |
| 71. |
" " (Old Bloom) |
248 |
| 72. |
Cineraria (magnified) |
250 |
| 73. |
Tropœolum Majus. (Young Bloom) |
252 |
| 74. |
" " (Old Bloom) |
252 |
| 75. |
Section of Scrophularia Nodosa |
254 |
| 76. |
Scrophularia Nodosa. (Young Bloom) |
254 |
| 77. |
" " (Old Bloom) |
254 |
| 78. |
Salvia Officinalis. (New Bloom) |
255 |
| 79. |
" " (Old Bloom) |
255 |
| 80. |
a, Erica Tetralix. b, Anther of Tetralix |
255 |
| 81. |
Section of Strawberry Bloom |
256 |
| 82. |
Section of Apple Bloom |
257 |
- xvi -
- xvii -
THE HONEY-BEE.
ERRATA.
p. 22, ten lines from bottom, for "not full grown" read "not more
than two or three days old."
p. 30, last line but one from the bottom, for "neuters" read
"strange workers."
p. 55, line 10 from bottom, for "hind feet" read "pincers on the
hind legs."
p. 110, bottom line, for "four anterior tarsi" read "in the hind
legs."
p. 111, line 3, for "leg" read "hind leg."
" line 6, for "This pocket" read "Above this, on the outside
of the tibia, is a pocket, lined, &c."
p. 136, line 12, for "foul-breeding" read "foul-broody."
ADDENDA.
p. 126, three lines from bottom, add
"The most remarkable function of the sting-apparatus
has, in modern times, been discovered to be the insertion of
a minute drop of the poison in each honey-cell when filled.
This acts as an anti-septic, and prevents fermentation in
the sweet liquid."
p. 136, after first paragraph, add
"It is now known that this treatment is by no means
always successful when the bacilli have reached the
"resting" or "spore" stage."
[Note: All above corrections and additions have been applied!]
- 1 -
THE HONEY-BEE:
ITS NATURE, HOMES, AND PRODUCTS.
INTRODUCTION.
In these days of intense business-pressure, it is a
good thing for men to cultivate hobbies. We say
this, notwithstanding the fact that men with hobbies
are likely to become bores, from thinking and talking
too incessantly of their pet occupations, or are apt to
run into extravagant expenditure of time and money,
which could be better utilised. Now, in recommending
apiculture, or bee-keeping, as a recreation from
more serious pursuits, we feel that we incur little risk
of increasing the number of bores in society, or of
inducing an undue outlay of hours or pounds on the
part of those who follow our suggestions. For, on
the one hand, the facts likely to be spoken of by
enthusiastic apiarians to casual hearers could not fail
to interest; while the practical results of bee-keeping
will certainly, to say the least, repay in hard cash all
- 2 -
reasonable outlay on the part of any one who is
possessed of ordinary good sense, and who learns
to manage his hives according to modern methods.
In the following pages we hope to make good both
these statements. We are sure that comparatively
few people know what marvellous creatures bees are;
what constant pleasure may be found in watching
their work; what opportunities for skilful use of brain
and hand are afforded by an apiary; what a wide field
of study and information is displayed by these domesticated
insects: and though we shall not hold out
dazzling prospects of a large return of money from
the pursuit we are commending, we shall show by
facts that, in ordinary seasons, the yield of honey
should amply cover the cost of the bees, their homes,
and their requirements.
Nor would we be understood to limit our recommendation
of bee-keeping to men alone. It is an
occupation eminently suited to women. It has none
of the manifest drawbacks of poultry or rabbit-rearing.
The needs of the hives are usually not so
pressing as to involve a disregard of weather or important
engagements. Many operations in apiculture
call for female dexterity of hand and finger. It is true
that a little courage, in which few ladies are deficient,
is necessary in making a beginning of skilful bee-management.
But, duly protected by veil and gloves,
even the timid need have no fear of being stung
or seriously incommoded.
Intelligent boys and girls of fifteen years and
upwards will find a hive or two of bees quite within
their power of management, and the clever and industrious
insects will afford them a surprising amount
- 3 -
of interest, and, it may be, some not unimportant
moral lessons.
In the hope of enlarging popular knowledge of
these wonderful insects, and so of increasing apiculture,
we have written this book. It does not
profess to go exhaustively into the practical part of
bee-keeping; but enough information is given for
ordinary apiarian purposes.
The excellent publications of Langstroth, Cowan,
Cheshire, Neighbour, Hunter, Taylor and Wood will
supply all details intentionally omitted from the present
treatise. To several of the above writers, and
to some others mentioned at the end of Chapter I.,
the author desires to express his obligations for
numerous facts.
Many of the most important illustrations in
Chapters XI. and XIV., and the whole of those
in Chapter XXVI. have been taken, by permission,
from the diagrams published by the British Bee-keepers'
Association. These diagrams are reductions
from drawings made by Mr. Frank Cheshire, who is
so well known as having devoted many years to the
study of apiculture, especially on its scientific side.
To the same gentleman is also due the discovery
of many of the physiological marvels given in
Chapters XI. and XIV., and of the chief facts
embodied in the chapter on "Bees in relation to
Flowers."
- 4 -
CHAPTER I.
HISTORIC SKETCH.
Holy Scriptures—Vedas—Egyptian Monuments—The Koran—Etymological
Considerations—Literature of Subject—Aristotle—Philiscus—Pliny—Virgil—Columella—Other
Classical Authors—Shakespeare—Modern Writers.
Far back in historic time there are records that
man had learnt the value of the bee. The book of
Job—probably the oldest of our sacred Scriptures—contains
a reference to honey. The Pentateuch, the
Chronicles of the Israelites, the Psalms, the works of
Solomon, and nearly all the later books of the Old
Testament, speak of these wonderful insects or their
produce. They are referred to in the Vedas of
Hindostan, the monuments of Egypt, the poems
of Homer and Euripides, and the narrative of
Xenophon's expedition into Persia.
Throughout the ancient civilised world the virtues
of honey were celebrated, and the habits of the bee
served to point a moral for human conduct. It is
remarkable that in the Koran we find Mahomet
representing the Almighty as addressing this insect
alone of all the creatures He had made: "The Lord
spake by inspiration unto the bee, saying, 'Provide
- 5 -
thee houses in the mountains and in the trees, and of
those materials wherewith men build hives for thee;
then eat of every kind of fruit, and walk in the beaten
paths of thy Lord.' There proceedeth from their
bellies a liquor of various colours, wherein is a
medicine for men. Verily, herein is a sign unto
people who consider."
The ancient Egyptians must have known much of
the domestic economy of the hive, for they took the
figure of the insect to symbolise a people governed
by a sovereign, and this so far back as the twelfth
dynasty, or 2080-1920 B.C.
It has been argued on etymological grounds that
in a much remoter period still, the human race had
domesticated the bee; for in Sanskrit ma means
honey, madhupa honey drinker, and madhukara
honey maker. Madhu is evidently the origin of our
word mead. Again, mih or mat, in Chinese, signifies
honey; and it can hardly be a mere coincidence which
has brought about so close a resemblance between the
Turanian and the Indo-European terms above mentioned.
We have rather the indication of the survival
of a name in two branches of a still older language
than either of the Asiatic tongues, from which so
large a proportion of modern speech has flowed, thus
carrying us back to an enormously remote period in
the history of man. The Latin mel, and French miel,
both meaning honey, are, of course, the offspring of
the Greek; and all the above words, according to
some authorities, point to the circumstance of the
constructive power of the insect having impressed
the minds of men emphatically.
In the Teutonic languages biene, bee, &c., are
- 6 -
evidently connected with by—a termination met with
in many English towns, and signifying "a dwelling";
and so we see that it was not so much the sweet
liquid procured and stored by the insects, as the skill
and beauty with which they fashioned their combs,
which struck their human observers; and though we
cannot with certainty affirm that men domesticated
them in these remote times, it seems probable that
races who, before the historic period, had learnt to
make use of most of the animals now under immediate
subjection to the wants and purposes of man, saw
the convenience and wisdom of turning to account
the nectar-collecting habits of the bee. Jacob, seventeen
centuries before Christ, told his sons to take
"a little honey" among their presents to the lord of
Egypt. Again, the land of Canaan was pictured by
God to Moses as "a land flowing with milk and
honey." We should, therefore, probably be justified
in inferring that, as the one liquid was derived from
herds under the people's control, so, too, the other
came from domesticated insects. It may be that
no hives were used at so early a period as the sixteenth
century before Christ, and the reference in
Ps. lxxxi. 16—"with honey out of the rock should I
have satisfied thee"—would seem to indicate that, at
a much later date, the bees were left at large in their
native haunts. Still, the numerous references of the
earlier Scriptures make it plain that honey was an
article of common use, and was obtainable at the
discretion of those in Palestine who wished for it.
With regard to the ancient literature of our subject,
the first treatise on the bee now extant is that of
Aristotle in his History of Animals, written about
- 7 -
330 B.C. Observations of a scientific kind had,
however, been made with regard to these insects by
a philosopher of Asia Minor, who is said to have
devoted a long lifetime to watching their habits.
Unfortunately, the records of his studies in this
department of entomology have not survived to our
day. We have also to regret that later ages lost the
benefit of the labours of Philiscus of Thasos, who is
said to have abandoned the abodes of men for a
forest life, that he might learn all that was possible
of the nature and work of these creatures, which
seemed to him so marvellous in their structure and
their doings. It is Pliny the Elder—the well-known
Roman man of science, who lived near the beginning
of the Christian era—to whom we are indebted for
notices of the workers in natural history just mentioned,
while he himself devotes some considerable
space in his own book to a description of the bee.
Nearly a century earlier, Vergil, the poet of rural
life, as well as of loftier themes, wrote a charming
book—his Fourth Georgic—on the subject of these
our winged friends. We may smile at his wondrous
plan for securing a prodigious swarm, and modern
methods may claim far more reasonableness and
success than those he advocates in apiculture; but we
may rejoice to see how bewitching was the pursuit of
bee-keeping nearly two millenniums ago, and how
true it has been through all the centuries, as the
French writer Gelieu says, "Beaucoup de gens aiment
les abeilles; je n'ai vu personne qui les aima médiocrement:
on se passionne pour elles."
The orator Cicero makes frequent reference
to them in his charming treatise on Old Age,
- 8 -
and other classical writers allude not unfrequently
to these insects.
Columella, who lived in the first century of the
Christian era, gave, in his work De re rusticâ, many
directions for apiarians; and though, of course,
abounding, like Vergil's work, in errors on certain
points, his book shows a decided advance beyond
the knowledge of preceding writers.
We might speak of Theophrastus, Celsus, and
Varro as contributing to the literature of bee-lore,
but it would be beyond the scope of our design to
detail what they have written on the subject.
Coming, however, down to much more recent times,
and to our own country, we cannot resist the temptation
to quote the well-known lines of our most
marvellous poet Shakespeare, whose comprehensive
intellect almost rivalled that of Solomon, for "he
spake of trees, from the cedar-tree that is in Lebanon,
even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall:
he spake also of beasts and of fowl and of creeping
things and of fishes." The passage to which
we now especially refer is to be found in his play
of Henry F., act i. sc. 2:—
"Therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavour in continual motion;
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience: for so work the honey-bees;
Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king and officers of sorts:
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home:
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds;
Which pillage, they, with merry march, bring home
- 9 -
To the tent-royal of their emperor:
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold;
The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
The poor mechanic-porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone."
Of more recent writers we may mention the French
Réaumur; the Swiss, Bonnet; and Huber, of Geneva,
who, with his assistant Burnens, gave the world so
many wondrous details of bee-life and habits. In
our own country, Dr. John Hunter, Dr. John Evans,
who has been called the "poet-laureate of bees,"
Shuckard, Sir John Lubbock, Cowan, John Hunter,
Taylor, Cheshire, Alfred Neighbour, Pettigrew,
Abbott, and many writers in the British Bee Journal,
have largely added to our apiarian knowledge. Not
only in America, but universally, the Rev. L. L.
Langstroth, of Ohio, has a well-earned reputation
for his researches and his practical instructions
with regard to apiculture. In Germany, Dr. Dzierzon
of Carlsmarkt, in Silesia, and Baron von Berlepsch,
of Coburg, stand at the very head of authorities on
all that relates to bees and bee-keeping.
- 10 -
CHAPTER II.
NATURAL HISTORY.
Orders of Insects—Stages of Development—Egg, Larva, Pupa, Imago
or Perfect Insect—Three Classes of Bees: Queen, Drones,
Workers.
It will be observed from the title of this book that
it deals with the honey-bee. The necessity of this
restriction will become immediately evident when we
mention the fact that in Great Britain there are no
less than twenty-seven genera and 177 species of
native bees, none of which have been successfully
domesticated except Apis mellifica, or the ordinary
hive-bee.
The term "insect" has unfortunately been loosely
employed in popular parlance to include such diverse
beings as coral-polyps and house-flies. As the name
itself indicates, it is properly applicable only to such
animals as are more or less distinctly divided into
segments. All true insects, in fact, are plainly divisible
in their perfect state into three portions, the head,
thorax, and abdomen. The most important classes in
this portion of the animal kingdom are distinguished
by the characteristics of their wings, and are—
- 11 -
I. Coleoptera, or those possessing crustaceous
sheathing wing-covers, including all the beetles.
II. Orthroptera, having the wings when at rest in
straight longitudinal folds, comprising such families
as the earwigs, cockroaches, grasshoppers, and
locusts.
III. Neuroptera, nerve-winged, characterised by
four naked, strongly reticulated organs of flight,
as seen in dragon-flies, may-flies, and white ants.
IV. Hymenoptera, membrane-winged, resembling the
Neuroptera in some respects, but with fewer reticulations,
and their organs of flight when in use are hooked
together along the margins, so as to expose a continuous
surface. Another distinguishing character is
the appendage at the tail, in the form of either a sting
or an ovipositor. The chief representative families
are the bees, wasps, gad-flies, ants, and ichneumons.
V. Lepidoptera, having the wings covered with a
scale-like powder, set like the tiles of a house. The
butterflies and moths all belong to this order.
VI. Diptera, or two-winged insects, embracing the
gnats, "daddy-long-legs," blow-flies, and house-flies.
Less important are the Homoptera, which have the
wings of the same consistence throughout, as the
aphides or blight-insects.
The Heteroptera, having the fore-wings coriaceous
(or leathery) at the base and membranous towards
the extremity. These comprise the bug tribe; while
fleas belong to the Aptera, or wingless insects.
Insects pass through four stages during their lifetime:
the egg, the larva, the pupa, and the imago
conditions. The honey-bee exists in each of these
states.
- 12 -
The egg.—All the eggs of the community are laid
by the queen. The cells in which they are deposited
vary in size and in shape, according to whether
queens, drones, or workers are to be developed in
them. In length the eggs are about one-twelfth of
an inch; in shape, oblong, but a little broader at the
upper than at the lower end, and slightly curved;
in colour they are white, with a bluish tinge. Their
external coat is slightly glutinous when they are
first laid, and thus they adhere to the bottom of
the cell in which they are deposited.
Fig. 1.—Egg's and Larva of Bees.
The larva.—Under the genial influence of the
heat of the hive, ranging from 66° to 70° Fahr., the
formation of the larva from the egg-contents immediately
begins; and, in the course of three days, a
tiny worm or grub has been developed, and makes
its way out of its delicate shell. It now lies curled
round, still at the base of its dwelling, and, fed by
the nurse-bees on a jelly-like mixture of pollen and
honey, it rapidly grows. Its food supply is made
strictly correspondent to its wants, and by the time
the larva is ready for its next change not a drop
of the jelly is unconsumed. The fleshy white grub
is in shape at first slightly, and afterwards strongly
- 13 -
curved, and a little pointed at each end. The future
segments of the insect now become gradually visible,
fifteen in number, and ten of them are furnished each
with a minute aperture on opposite sides of the body,
and connected with air-tubes, or spiracles, by which
respiration is carried on. The segments have also a
series of minute tubercles, whose office seems to be to
aid in the motions of the grub, which motions doubtless
contribute to the assimilation of food, and so to
growth. The head of the larva is small, is smooth
above, and is furnished with two little projecting horns,
from which will be developed the future antennæ.
Fig. 2.—Larvæ.
a. Worker larvæ. b. Queen larva. c. Queen cell sealed.
The jaws are small, and articulate below a narrow
lip. They are constantly in motion, probably
to reduce the pollen-grains existing in the so-called
bee-bread, which, with honey, as already mentioned,
constitute their food. Beneath the jaws, and centrally
between them, is a fleshy protuberance, which
- 14 -
has a perforation at its extremity, through which the
larva emits a sticky fluid, similar to that from which
spider's-web or silk is made. With this the grub
spins for itself a cocoon, in which a further and important
transformation takes place in the structure
of the insect.
Fig. 3.—Sealed Cells.
The time occupied in making this silken dress is,
for drone- and worker-larvæ, thirty-six hours. Princesses,
who trouble themselves to make only half-cocoons,
finish theirs in twenty-four hours. So soon
as the grubs are ready for this process, the nurse-bees
form over the entrance to each cell a lid made of wax
and a sticky substance called propolis; leaving, however,
minute perforations for the admission of air.
These coverings are darker than the caps of the
honey-cells. They are also somewhat convex over
worker-larvæ, and over drone-grubs they stand out
almost hemispherically. Hence it is easy to distinguish
the look of brood cells from that of those
- 15 -
containing food-stores. Moreover, the former are
situated usually in or near the centre of each comb,
while the latter, where the two co-exist, are found
near the top. It is very important to learn the
difference in appearance between the two, as several
points of successful manipulation depend upon the
knowledge.
Fig. 4.—A. Larva full grown, viewed sideways.
B. Larva preparing for pupa state.
The nymph or pupa.—In this condition the insect
is at first semi-transparent, and white, with a yellowish
tinge. Hour by hour the various organs of the perfect
bee proceed in their development, and become
more and more discernible through the thin pellicle
enshrouding them. On the head, the eyes and antennæ
assume their ultimate size and marvellous
structure. The legs and wings are clearly seen
folded lengthwise along the thorax and abdomen.
The chitinous covering of the body attains increasing
firmness, and the colour of the exterior deepens to a
greyish brown.
At length, in periods varying in the three classes of
inmates of the hive, maturity is reached. In the case
of queens, sixteen days suffice for complete metamorphosis
from the egg to the full-grown insect. Drones
require twenty-four days, and workers from nineteen
to twenty-two days, according to the warmth of the
weather, to go through all their changes.
- 16 -
Fig. 5.—Worker Larva and Pupa in Comb.
When ready to emerge from the cell, the young bee
nibbles round the lid of its abode, and bursting its
cocoon along the back, it crawls forth in its imago or
perfect condition. Forthwith the busy nurses clean
it from any remains of its silken covering; brush
its legs and antennæ; pull its wings and fuss about
it, as if to urge it to action and to arouse it to a
due sense of its newly acquired powers. Speedily
awakened to its responsibilities, the young bee assumes,
as its earliest duties, the tending of the brood-cells,
the feeding of the larvæ, and the various offices
so recently performed for itself by its slightly older
sisters. Then, as strength increases, the wings are
tried in flight; the locality of its home is reconnoitred,
and in two or three days after its emergence into its
complete condition it issues forth on journeys, nearer
or more remote, in search of stores for the perpetually
recurring wants of the succession of children continually
being reared in the hive.
Each complete community of bees consists of three
classes; first, the queen, who is the parent of all the
offspring; second, the drones, or males; and third,
the workers, which are really undeveloped females.
- 17 -
CHAPTER III.
THE QUEEN-BEE
Early Errors as to Sex—The "Mother Bee"—Distinguishing Characteristics—Functions—Attentions
paid her—Effects of Loss; how
Repaired by Bees—Enmity to Rivals—Length of Life—Egg-laying.
One of the earliest facts ascertained in the study
of bees was that there existed in each colony one
individual differing considerably from all the rest in
appearance and in functions. Early observers, it is
true, mistook even the sex of the one so distinguished.
Vergil says:
"Et circa regem atque ipsa ad prætoria densæ
Miscentur."
And, again,
"Rege incolumi mens omnibus una est."
Shakespeare, in the passage quoted in a previous
chapter, talks of "a king," and other writers were
equally ignorant of the true state of the case. The
headship of the hive is, in fact, held by a solitary
female, to whom the name of "queen" has been
given, both on account of the respect she receives,
and the controlling influence she appears to exercise
over the other inmates of her domain. The Germans,
on perfectly safe grounds, call her "the mother-bee";
and it is, doubtless, owing to the all-important
- 18 -
circumstance of the continued existence of the race
depending upon her, that she is the object of such
intense affection, attention, and devotion.
This is corroborated by the circumstance that it is
only after she has been fertilised, and begins to lay,
that she is much honoured. As princess merely, not
the slightest respect is paid to her. She is not even
fed by the workers, but has to help herself, and in
doing so must scramble over the busy crowd in her
way, not one of whom will trouble to move out of
her path.
Two or three prominent characteristics serve readily
to distinguish the queen from the rest of the bees.
In the first place, her body is much longer and more
tapering towards its lower extremity. Her wings are
shorter in comparison with her length. The upper
surface of her body is of a darker and more glossy
hue than that of her subjects. Her movements are
slower and less anxious in appearance than those
of the workers, except at swarming time, when excitement
quickens her steps, and gives' her an air
of purposeless solicitude; though, in reality, her
anxiety is caused by the desire to slay a royal and
rival daughter, whose co-existence in the hive she
cannot tolerate.
A closer examination reveals several other points
of difference. In our English species, of which we
are now especially speaking, her colour is yellowish
underneath; her head is rounder, her legs are longer,
her tongue is more slender and not so extensile as
that of the other bees; and her sting is curved instead
of being straight, like the formidable weapon of the
workers. It is asserted by some writers that she
- 19 -
has a peculiar odour readily distinguishable, and so
powerfully attractive to her people, that they will
alight on the finger of any one who has been
handling their queen.
Fig. 6.—The Queen of the Hive.
Several characteristics of a negative kind may also
be noted. Her proboscis is not fitted for extracting the
nectar of flowers, and she can only lap food, or take
it from the tongues of her attendants. She, moreover
has no expansion of the gullet for a honey-bag,
since she never requires to collect and carry home
the sweet liquid. She possesses no cysts for the
elaboration of wax, as she takes no part in contributing
to the materials of her dwelling. The last
pair of legs are convex on the outside, containing no
pocket for carrying pollen or propolis; and the other
legs are without the brushes of the workers, which
enable them to clear their bodies of the powdery
discharge of the anthers of flowers, for she never
visits plants. All her wants in the way of nourishment
are supplied by her subjects.
- 20 -
Fig. 7.—Queen Surrounded by Attendants.
The Queen, or Mother-Bee, as in nature, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, and
exhibited in a glass hive to the royal visitors at the British Bee-Keepers' Association
Show at Kilburn, 1879, by Abbott Bros., Southall.
She mates once in her life, when she is a few days
old, with a single drone, and on the wing. That is
the only occasion of her leaving the hive, except
when she leads forth a swarm. Her grand function
is to lay eggs, and every part of her structure and
every power she has is more or less related to this
all-important duty. She is, as we have implied,
freed from every other office. The hatching, the
tending, the rearing, the instruction of her progeny,
are entirely taken out of her hands, and it is doubtful
whether she has any affection for her children. She
is constantly attended by a retinue of ten or twelve
"maids of honour," who all keep their heads turned
towards her, clear the way for her, prevent all crowding
round her, and supply her with the most
nutritious food, previously half digested by themselves.
They caress her with their antennæ, and
seem to find a real joy in mere proximity to their
monarch. Should she, by more rapid movements
than usual, outstrip her retiring attendants, the
bees with whom she thus unexpectedly comes in
contact appear excited and alarmed, and move
- 21 -
hastily from her path. So long as she remains sound
and well in the hive, all the varied works go on
peacefully and incessantly. Should she die or be
removed, immediate consternation is manifested.
Her subjects rush about in excitement and distress.
They buzz around the neighbourhood of the hive, but
all active and productive work ceases. They know
that unless the disastrous loss can be repaired, their
community must perish for lack of new progeny, and
when despair seizes them, they seem to act upon the
motto, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."
But the skilled bee-keeper comes to the rescue
when he has ascertained the death or loss of a queen,
and introduces another monarch to the distressed
community. Care and caution, however, have to be
exercised in this operation; for, until convinced that
there is no hope of the restoration of their rightful
sovereign, the workers will not tolerate a substitute
for her. Even when their hopes are extinguished, it
is much safer to cage the new queen, for thirty-six or
forty-eight hours, on a comb, so that a gradual
acquaintance with one another may be formed before
free intercourse is allowed. Otherwise, it will frequently
happen that the introduced mother-bee will
come to grief by stings or by suffocation. Cases,
indeed, have occurred in which it has been found
impossible to induce a hive to receive a stranger
queen, and it has become necessary to amalgamate
such a community with another already possessed of
a monarch.
But, under certain circumstances, the bees will,
in a marvellous way, provide themselves with a
sovereign. If at the time of discovering their loss
- 22 -
there are worker-eggs in the hive, and these are only
two or three days old, a cell containing one such egg
is selected, and enlarged by breaking down the surrounding
partitions. The shape and direction of the
cell are also altered, being made pyriform, or like a
pear, and with its open end downwards. The royal
cradle, in fact, is made to look like a small acorn-cup
inverted. In this abode is deposited a certain amount
of so-called "royal jelly," a more pungent and stimulating
food than that supplied to other larvæ,
and consisting of a mixture of honey and partially
digested pollen. Under the influence of this nourishment,
the grub, instead of becoming a worker-bee, as
it would have done in the usual course of events,
undergoes all those important modifications which
distinguish the queen from her ordinary offspring;
and, moreover, the necessary transformations from
the larval to the perfect condition of the insect are
so expedited as to take only sixteen, instead of
twenty-one, days. We have said that, if newly-laid
eggs exist, these are preferred by the workers for their
purpose of queen manufacture; but they will, if shut
up to the necessity, thus transform worker-larvæ, if
not more than two or three days old. Usually, when prompted in this
way to provide themselves with a hive-mother, they
begin, not one only, but several, apparently to secure
themselves against all danger of failure. But the
first which comes to maturity assumes the sovereignty,
and, unless the condition of the stock requires the
speedy emission of a swarm, she will be allowed to
gratify her instinctive enmity to rivals, and will destroy
them as they are ready to emerge from their cells.
This hatred of equals is an extraordinary fact,
- 23 -
when we consider that the queen knowingly lays
eggs under conditions in which they will, in the
ordinary course of events, become princesses. Then
another circumstance of peculiar significance, and
very marvellous, is that, notwithstanding the absolute
authority possessed by the queen under other conditions,
and in spite of the usual subjection and
subservience of the workers, they will not allow their
monarch complete liberty in the destruction of her
royal progeny. If the crowded state of their dwelling
makes it evident that the emission of a colony is
necessary, the workers-in-waiting forcibly restrain
their sovereign from indulging in her strong desire to
slay her fully-developed daughters. She resents the
interference, but no assumption of her dignity and
authority will avail, and her absolutism is in this
direction distinctly limited. Incensed at length
beyond endurance, she quits the hive at the head
of a swarm of her faithful subjects, and establishes a
community where again she will have sole sway.
If, on the other hand, circumstances do not necessitate
a division of the population, the old queen is
allowed to destroy the young ones as they issue from
the pupa state.
It is said that the only other condition in which
the workers rebel against their monarch is when she
is growing worn out with age, and seems likely to
fail in power of egg-laying. Then she is believed, in
some instances, to be supplanted; but it is not
known with certainty whether natural death may not
account for her removal, or whether she is slain by
her subjects, or by a young queen preserved by their
intervention.
- 24 -
Should the loss of the queen take place when
there is no brood-comb in the hive, from the season
of the year, or from other circumstances, such as the
cessation of egg-laying, the bees often manifest a
series of almost frantic efforts to repair their loss.
Sometimes they will try to develop a female from
drone eggs. They have been known even to take a
lump of pollen and surround it with a queen cell, in
the absurd hope of getting a monarch so. It sometimes
happens that one of the workers develops the
power of laying eggs, all of which turn to drones—a
marvellous fact in parthenogenesis—and the workers
treat some of these to a royal abode and royal jelly,
in the futile hope of thus raising a sovereign. In
fact, as has been wittily but truly said, "when bees
have lost their queen they lose their head." This
close connection of queen and people is reciprocal,
for the sovereign who is forcibly separated from her
subjects refuses food, pines away, and speedily dies.
It is only in very rare instances (such as those we
have mentioned when speaking of the introduction
of a stranger-queen) that the workers attack and
kill royalty. Queens, on the other hand, are never
known to use their stings against their subjects.
They reserve them for combats with their equals,
thus realising the salutary arrangement, which might
have such practically important political consequences
if adopted in human affairs, "Let those
who make the quarrels be the only ones to fight."
The queen, though developed more rapidly than
the drones and the workers, enjoys a much longer
life than her subjects. In some instances this period
has been known to extend to five or even six years;
- 25 -
but her fecundity is said to diminish after her second
year, or, if it continues, she will in her old age lay a
majority of drone eggs, to the serious weakening
of the community. The skilled apiarian, therefore,
takes care that every hive shall have a queen of an
age when her fertility is greatest.
The process of egg-laying begins from two to four
days after the flight for mating, depending somewhat
on the preparation of cells for that purpose. The
queen, on finding comb adapted to her needs, thrusts
her head into a cell, apparently to ascertain if it is
empty, and of the right depth and size for one of the
two different kinds of eggs—those for workers, and
those to become drones. Satisfied on these points,
she withdraws her head, and, curving herself downwards,
inserts her abdomen, and giving the lower part
of her body a half-turn towards the thorax, she
expels an egg from her oviduct, and then retires in
search of other cells in which to make similar deposits.
She rarely, and only by mistake, lays more
than one egg in a cell. If she falls into the error, the
worker-bees immediately remove all but one.
The examination of each cell by the queen to
ascertain its fitness for the two kinds of eggs is an
essential point; for, in the first place, the nature of
drone-eggs is radically different from that of those
which will produce workers; and the size of the cells
in which the former are hatched is considerably
greater than that in which the latter will be developed,
nineteen ends of the larger covering a
square inch of surface, while twenty-seven of the
smaller will occupy the same space.
It seems an indisputable fact that the queen has
- 26 -
the power of laying which of the two kinds of eggs
she pleases. The essential difference between the
two seems to be, that those which will become drones
are not fertilised by spermatozoa just previous to
leaving the oviduct, while the worker-eggs are thus
specially vivified, and the operation appears to be
under volitional control.
A further remarkable circumstance is that the rate
of egg-laying is also a matter of determination, and
not of necessity, on the part of the queen; for when
a transfer has been made from a weak to a strong
hive, the number of eggs deposited has been known
to vary, within two days, from none to two thousand
in twenty-four hours. In the one case the mother-bee
knew her colony was not strong enough to keep
up the requisite warmth for hatching and developing
her progeny; in the other, she proceeded vigorously
with her functions, the further progress of the young
being secured by the abundance of the population
sufficing to keep up the proper temperature, and to
render all needed attention to the larvæ in their
further development.
The ordinary rate of laying, under favourable
conditions, varies from 600 to 800 eggs a day; but,
under pressure of specially suitable conditions, from
i,000 to 1,200 are not unfrequently deposited.
Langstroth and Von Berlepsch have seen six laid in
a minute; and the latter observer, on supplying a
queen with some new empty comb, found after
twenty-four hours more than 3,000 eggs had been
laid. If this queen on the average got rid of five
eggs per minute, the total number just mentioned
would have been deposited in ten hours, so that she
- 27 -
would have had fourteen hours for rest. The queen
kept up her rate for twenty days, in which time she
had filled 57,000 cells, and, what is very remarkable,
her fecundity is said to have continued for five years,
during which period she must have laid nearly a
million and a-half of eggs. Dzierzon says, "Most
queens, in spacious hives, and in a favourable season,
lay 60,000 in a month, and a specially fertile queen,
in the four years which she on an average lives,
lays over a million eggs." These numbers will give
some idea of the immense expenditure of life that is
continually going on.
To keep up these very great productive energies,
it is evident that large quantities of food must be
consumed by the mother-bee, and, as we should
expect, the amount taken varies in the ratio of the
vigour of egg-laying.
It sometimes happens that, in the very height of
her duties, sufficient cells are not forthcoming as
places of deposit for eggs; and, in that case, the
queen leaves some on the combs, or at the bottom
of the hive. Strange to say, the worker-bees greedily
devour such waifs and strays. In this respect we
observe a great difference between ants and bees.
Among the latter we do not find that passionate
love and care for the eggs and larvæ which so
strongly mark the former. Other circumstances
of a similar kind, to be noted later on, show, on the
part of bees, an intense regard for stores rather than
progeny, notwithstanding their affection and devotion
to the mother-bee, whose functions they thus
acknowledge as all-important to the race.
The egg-laying of the queen goes on more or less
- 28 -
for nine or ten months of the year, under favouring
conditions; but the season of greatest activity is
during April, May, and June. Various circumstances
after that time cause a diminution of the number of
eggs, till in November, December, and January, as a
rule, the queen ceases her motherly functions.
- 29 -
CHAPTER IV.
THE DRONES.
Distinguishing Characteristics—Time of Hatching—Numbers—Purposes
served by them—Destruction by Workers or other means—Unusual Survival.
Fig. 8.—A Drone.
The drones are the male population of the bee-community.
In general form they are more cylindrical
than the queens or workers. They are shorter
than the former, but larger and more robust than the
latter. Their colour is of a deeper brown, and they
are much more hairy, especially at the lower extremity.
Their wings are strong, and greater in
proportion to the length of their bodies than those of
the females or neuters, reaching, indeed, to the full
extent of their abdomen. The posterior expansion
- 30 -
of the lower pair gives a broad backward sweep, and
enables the heavy body of the drone to fly with great
rapidity, and to rise very freely in the air. Another
peculiarity of structure is the vertical enlargement of
the compound eyes. By the meeting of these eyes
over the brow, the drone is able more readily to see
the virgin queen when she issues for her one bridal
excursion. Drones have a strong odour, which
becomes very perceptible when several are confined
together in a box. Their proboscis is not fit for the
collection of honey; moreover they have no receptacle
for carrying the liquid, and, in fact, show no inclination
even to feed themselves from flowers. They
take their nourishment from what is stored in the
cells. As Evans accurately and concisely says of
them, they
"wheel around
On heavier wing, and hum a deeper sound.
No sharpened sting they boast; yet, buzzing loud,
Before the hive, in threatening circles, crowd
The unwieldy drones. Their short proboscis sips
No luscious nectar from the wild thyme's lips;
From the lime's leaf no amber drops they steal,
Nor bear their grooveless thighs the foodful meal;
On others' toils, in pampered leisure, thrive
The lazy fathers of the industrious hive."
This inability to feed themselves from Nature's
sources makes them almost unique among the fully
developed creatures of the animal world. Their
consumption of the stores of the hive is not resented
by the workers till the swarming season is over, and
what is further remarkable is, that they are permitted
to enter without molestation communities other than
that in which they were bred, though strange workers would
be strictly prohibited from such trespassing.
- 31 -
The first drones of the season appear generally
about the middle of April, but they are most numerously
hatched in May and June. The actual number
in a hive varies from 500 to 2,000. Only one or two
of these will become the mates of as many young
queens, and the question is often asked, What can be
the use of such an immense superfluity of males? The
best answer that can be given is, that it is extremely
important, considering the dangers to which a virgin
queen is exposed in her flight from the hive, that
there should be no difficulty for her in meeting with
a spouse. When drones are scarce, and a very early
swarm has issued from a hive, it happens sometimes
that the young queen remaining at the head of the
stock has to make several flights before finding a
mate. As she is liable to be snapped up by birds,
or driven away by gusts of wind, or lost through not
knowing her own hive, it is manifestly far safer for
the supply of drones to be large enough to insure a
meeting on the first occasion of her flying.
It has been suggested by some bee-keepers that
the eggs are fertilised in the cells by the drones, after
the manner of the ova of fishes; but this theory is
utterly untenable in view of the fact that much
brood is found in the hives at seasons when, as a
rule, no drones exist, i.e. in the early spring and
late autumn.
From a reference to drones in the Troades of
Euripides (lines 191-195), it would almost seem that
the ancient Greeks, five centuries before Christ, had
an idea that the male bees were the door-keepers of
the hives, and the guardians of the young. We
know, however, that this is not the case.
- 32 -
Again, certain Polish writers have asserted that
the drones are the water-carriers of the community;
but this notion is as fanciful and groundless as the
preceding idea.
A more sensible supposition is that by their
numbers the warmth of the hive necessary for the
hatching and development of the larvæ is promoted,
and that, in consequence, more of the workers are
freed for honey-getting and pollen-gathering. One
objection to this theory has been made on the score
that, when there is most need for the heat of the hive
to be maintained, viz., in the winter, all the drones
are dead; but the reply to this is, that at that season
there are no stores to be collected, and therefore no
need for the workers to be liberated from indoor
duties.
It is certain that bee-keepers who have taken the
trouble to catch or to destroy hundreds of drones
from their hives, have not found themselves rewarded
by a greater amount of produce or by stronger stocks
through saving what the murdered drones would
have eaten. At the same time, where a honey-harvest
is desired, there is little doubt it is well for
some control to be exercised over the number of
drones hatched in the hive. This can be governed,
to a considerable extent, by furnishing the bees with
"foundation comb," the rudimentary cells of which
are of the size adapted only for workers. Still, there
is no doubt of the practical importance of having a
good supply of males in the hives during the swarming
time. When they are no longer of use, the
workers expel them. By many it has been asserted
that the drones are stung to death; but any one who
- 33 -
takes the trouble to watch what goes on in July and
August, will see that, for the most part, the neuters
seize their brethren by the wing, and drag them
from the entrance of the home. If much resistance
is made, they will persevere in trying to keep them
away; but, at last, when patience is exhausted, they
will bite the wings underneath, and so render them
almost powerless. Harassed in these ways, and
prevented from taking food from the cells, the drones
die of starvation in large numbers. A few may be
stung to death. Many will creep to unfrequented
parts of the comb, in hope of escaping notice; and if
a side box, or unoccupied back of a wooden hive, be
opened for them, they will congregate there. Mr.
Henry Taylor mentions in his Bee-Keepers Manual,
that, on one occasion, he found as many as 2,200
which had thus clustered in an empty side box. He
took them away, and the other bees went to work
with more vigour after having been thus relieved of
their useless population, as if they were glad to be
rid of those who were consumers, but non-producers.
In many instances, especially when food-supplies
are running short, and are not easily replaceable, the
workers will drag out the just emerging drones from
their cells, together with pupæ and larvæ, and will
cast them forth to die.
If no necessity for swarming occurs, through there
being plenty of room in the hive for the extension of
the colony, or for any other reason, either no royal
cells will be made, or the young princesses will be
destroyed as they approach maturity. In this case,
an unusually early destruction of the males will
occur, as the workers instinctively know there is little
- 34 -
use in permitting them to continue alive. Still, some
will be allowed to exist, for the sake of other communities,
as it is now maintained, with much show of
reason, that a young queen selects for her consort
a drone not belonging to her own hive. The importance
of this crossing of breed, for keeping up the
vigour of the race, is one of the best ascertained facts
in natural history. While, then, we cannot suppose
the bees to be aware of the benefits to be derived from
this "selection before marriage," we see in it one more
circumstance indicating the marvellous capabilities of
so-called "instinct"—we would prefer very much to
say one more proof of the all-pervading superintendence
of a Divine Mind, which works throughout
what we call Nature. We might, indeed, expect that
He, without whose supervision not a sparrow alights
on the ground in search of its food, would show to
our intelligent inquiries equally plain evidence of His
universal working, and of His infinitely wise determination
of all that has to do with the welfare and
the permanence of the various classes of the animal
and vegetable worlds.
- 35 -
CHAPTER V.
THE WORKERS.
Distinguishing Characteristics—Supposed Differences of Function
among them—Sir John Lubbock's Experiments—Fertile Workers—Length
of Life—"Black Bees"—Duties of Workers.
Fig. 9.—A Worker Bee.
a. Natural size. b. Magnified.
The workers are by far the most numerous, and,
in some sense, the most important party in the commonwealth
of bees. They are smaller in size than
either queens or drones. Microscopic examination,
and the fact of their occasionally developing the
power of laying eggs, prove that they are really
undeveloped females. It is hardly correct, therefore,
to call them, as has been so often done, neuters. The
chief structural differences to be noted in them, as
compared with the other two classes in the hive,
- 36 -
are, the possession of a long proboscis for gathering
honey, of receptacles for carrying pollen, of a very
formidable straight and barbed sting, and brushes on
the legs for clearing different parts of the body from
the farina of flowers or from dust.
The worker-eggs are deposited by the queen in the
smaller-sized cells of the combs, and are the first
laid in a new colony, or in the spring of the year.
Certain observers have thought they noticed
differences in the size of the full-grown workers, and
supposed that these variations were connected with
diversity of occupations and duties. But as all have
their several organs and their whole structure precisely
alike, and as little direct evidence of special
functions has been adduced, it is tolerably certain
that any peculiarities in regard to size must be otherwise
explained. Nor is it difficult to discover how
these may have been brought about. For, since each
pupa leaves behind it some portion of the silken
cocoon it had spun, it is clear that after a succession
of young bees from the same cells, these must become
sensibly contracted in extent, so that the later
progeny will not have had as much space in which
to grow as their elder-born sisters had, and hence
are, at least when they emerge, smaller in size.
Huber, without reference to the above-mentioned
fact, supposed that separate duties were undertaken
by special bees, at least so far as the gathering of
stores and the care of the young were concerned.
Subsequent observations, however, tend to show that
the latter office is undertaken by the most recently
born young, till they themselves have become strong
enough to fly abroad in search of honey and pollen.
- 37 -
It is said they also see to the making of wax, the
building of comb, and the cleansing of the hive,
during the first two or three weeks of their life.
Some corroboration of this idea is given by the
circumstance that, if there be not sufficient room for
the extension of a very strong population in their
abode, and the conditions for swarming are not satisfactory,
the older bees will remain idle in clusters,
often outside the hive, leaving to the younger ones
the execution of the internal work.
Sir John Lubbock has recorded a series of observations
which seem to indicate that certain individuals
are stationed near the entrances as sentinels. In his
most interesting work on Ants, Bees, and Wasps, he
says:—
"On October 5th I called out the bees by placing
some eau-de-Cologne in the entrance, and marked
the first three bees that came out. At 5 P.M. I called
them out again. About twenty came, including the
three marked ones. I marked three more.
"October 6. Called them out again. Out of the
first twelve, five were marked ones. I marked three
more.
"October 7. Called them out at 7.30 A.M. as
before. Out of the first nine seven were marked ones.
At 5.30 P.M. called them out again. Out of six, five
were marked ones.
"Octobers. Called them out at 7.15. Six came
out, all marked ones.
"October 9. Called them out at 6.40. Out of the
first ten, eight were marked ones. Called them out
at 11.30 A.M. Out of six, three were marked. I
marked other three. Called them out at 1.30 P.M.
- 38 -
Out of ten, six were marked. Called them out at
4.30. Out often, seven were marked.
"October 10. Called them out at 6.5 A.M. Out
of six, five were marked. Shortly afterwards I did
the same again, when out of eleven, seven were
marked ones. 5.30 P.M. called them out again. Out
of seven, five were marked.
"October 11. 6.30 A.M. called them out again.
Out of nine, seven were marked. 5 P.M. called them
out again. Out of seven, five were marked. After
this they took hardly any notice of the scents.
"Thus in these nine experiments, out of the ninety-seven
bees which came out first, no less than seventy-one
were marked ones."
Many interesting questions connected with the
workers remain for future investigation: such, for
instance, as whether the same bee returns to the same
part of the hive after each foraging expedition;
whether the same bees go out in search of stores day
after day, or sometimes take holidays or rest from
out-door fatigues, by applying themselves to some of
the internal labours of the hive; whether those who
become more or less exhausted from long-continued
flights die, for the most part, on their journeys, or
come back home to end their lives.
One point not known to general readers is, that a
bee on each separate going out for stores confines
herself to one particular kind of flower for that expedition.
That is to say, a worker who begins on
violets, will not visit any other flowers than violets
before returning to the hive. If lime-blossoms are
chosen, they will be adhered to. If a bee searching
white-clover heads be watched, she will be seen to go
- 39 -
only to similar sources of supply. This fact may be
verified by any one who will take the trouble to notice
in field or garden the customs of the hive-bee. It
does not seem to be the habit of wild bees thus to
confine themselves to particular flowers for each
journey they make. The importance of this circumstance
in the case of our domesticated species, and its
influence on the vegetable world, will be noted in a
later chapter, when we discuss the relation of bees to
flowers.
We have before alluded to the very remarkable
phenomenon occasionally occurring to the great
annoyance of the bee-keeper, namely, the development
in a worker of the power of laying eggs, which
eggs will produce nothing but drones, so that the
population of the hive dwindles, and becomes extinct.
Various suggestions have been made as to the reason
of this faculty appearing. A very plausible idea is
that some of the "royal jelly" is occasionally, and
possibly by mistake, given to a larva in the neighbourhood
of a queen-cell, and this stimulating food produces
a partial development of laying power. A
second possibility is that sometimes a worker-larva
in too forward a condition is transferred to a queen-cell,
and owing to the difference of treatment not
having been begun early enough, an imperfect and
nondescript kind of bee results. Some corroboration
of this may perhaps be found in a curious fact, which
has been several times noted, and published in
the British Bee-Journal, viz., the finding of workers
hatched in queen-cells. It would be difficult to
imagine such an abnormal event, unless unusual
circumstances had occurred to the young larva.
- 40 -
The birth of a fertile worker in a hive is a great
misfortune; for, not merely will the population
diminish, and at length altogether fail, from the
production of drone-brood only, but, as it is impossible
to distinguish the offending worker, it is
difficult to get rid of her. It has been recommended,
on the discovery that she exists, to amalgamate the
stock with another having a queen. This may
answer, but there is a danger that when the battle
comes to be fought between the actual sovereign
and the fertile worker, who will try to maintain her
prerogative, the latter, as the more active, and as
possessed of a more formidable sting, may prove
victorious. A safer plan, therefore, is to turn out the
whole stock from their hive, comb by comb, if the
bar-frame system is used, and allow them to return
to the old place where the cleared combs may be
put to receive them. The fertile worker, never
having left the colony, will not know her way back,
and so will be happily got rid of, and will probably
perish. Her place must, of course, be supplied by
an introduced queen, or the stock must be united
with another.
The age to which the workers live varies according
to the amount of labour they undergo. During
the winter and the early spring, when little or no
work is done, there is small drain on their vital force,
and they may live for six or seven months. In the
height of summer, when long days and abundant
supplies invite them to many hours of continuous
toil, the industrious insects are believed to exhaust
themselves very rapidly, and to perish, as if prematurely
old, in about five or six weeks. It is quite
- 41 -
evident that the mortality during the middle of the
year must be very great, seeing that egg-laying and
hatching go on at the rate of several hundreds a
day, and during weeks and months in succession:
and yet it frequently happens, where room sufficient
for the growing stores is provided, no swarm will
be thrown off, from which we infer that a period is
reached when the birth-rate and death-rate pretty
closely approach each other.
The older workers are distinguishable from the
younger by their deeper and more glossy colour.
The grey bloom of youth has been worn off, and
frequently their wings, notched or broken in places,
betray the veterans in the battle of life, who, amidst
rains, hail, and wind, have suffered more or less
severely.
Some observers have called attention to certain
individuals in the community, which have been
spoken of as "black bees,"[1] and which have been
supposed to possess special functions. Von Berlepsch
ascertained from his countryman Leuckart that no
anatomical differences existed between these and
ordinary workers; and, from subsequent experiments,
came to the conclusion that the difference in colour
was due to the accidental absence or the loss of the
hairs or down with which bees are ordinarily covered.
This loss may have occurred through getting
smeared with honey, or from stifling, or fright, or
creeping constantly through apertures too small to
admit their bodies readily. Dzierzon, another great
authority, corroborates the above explanation, and
- 42 -
further adds, "as a rule, the glossy black bees are
robbers, which have been pursuing their trade for
some time."
A similar difference in size and colour has been
often noticed in the case of drones; and the explanation
of their occurrence seems to be that such
smaller individuals have been hatched in the cells
intermediate between the normal drone and worker
varieties, a tier or two of such intermediate cells
being frequently made, to shade off the difference of
size between the two kinds.
The duties undertaken by the workers constitute
a series of operations indicating marvellous skill and
apparent reasoning power. It is true that what we
call "instinct"—a word which merely covers our
ignorance—seems to play a large part in the direction
of the doings of bees; but the readiness with
which they adapt themselves to circumstances, the
expedients they adopt to remedy defects in their
dwellings or surroundings, the efforts they make to
repair losses and to provide for the continuance of
the race, appear to transcend the limits of a power
actuated by blind impulse alone.
We have spoken of the brooding over and feeding
of the larvæ, the sealing of the pupæ, the cleansing
of the newly-hatched young, as the special duties of
the workers. All these offices are performed by the
most juvenile members of the family, who thus
become gradually initiated into the responsibilities of
bee-life, and daily gather strength for the next and
more extended duties of citizenship. These consist
of the gathering of supplies of honey, pollen, and
propolis, the elaboration of wax, the making of the
- 43 -
combs, the storing and sealing up of produce, the
cleansing and ventilation of the hive, the guarding
of the entrance, and the driving off or slaughter of
intruders of various kinds.
These various operations are worthy of separate
notice, and we will proceed to give some details
relating to each.
- 44 -
CHAPTER VI.
HONEY.
Origin—How Collected and Stored—Constitution—Poisonous Honey—Best
varieties of Honey—Distances traversed by Bees in search of
Honey—Uses.
Honey is mainly derived from the nectar of flowers.
We say mainly, because bees are able to make use of
many sweet liquids, such as the juices of ripe fruits,
the substances constituting what is called "honey-dew,"
the syrup of sugar, and the solid material of
sweetmeats. Still, by far the larger proportion of
honey is derived from flowers. By means of its long
flexible tongue the bee sucks from the nectaries of
various plants the sweet liquid they contain. In an
expansion of the gullet, which somewhat resembles
the crop of birds, some slight, but important, chemical
changes appear to take place, and while a portion of
the fluid passes into the true stomach for the nourishment
of the insect, the rest is regurgitated into a
cell of one of the combs. At first the honey thus deposited
is very thin, but by evaporation under the
warmth of the hive, a portion of the water passes
off, and a process of what apiarians call "ripening"
- 45 -
goes on, after which the remaining liquid is less liable
to fermentation, when extracted from the comb.
Honey appears to consist mainly of two kinds of
sugar, one of which is closely allied to that contained
in the grape, and which by spontaneous change is
apt to crystallise in contact with air. The other is
uncrystallisable, like the purest treacle, and mingled
with it are slight quantities of colouring matter and
mucilage. These sugars are somewhat apt to undergo
a vinous fermentation, of which advantage has been
taken in the manufacture of mead—a drink much
used by the inhabitants of these islands in ancient
times as a stimulant, and even intoxicant.
The taste of honey varies according to the flowers
or other sources from which it has been chiefly derived.
That procured from flowers, especially those
of the labiate family—from the clovers, the lime-blossoms,
and the heaths—is most esteemed. That
which has been derived from sugar-syrup differs but
slightly from the liquid of its origin. That procured
from what is called honey-dew, or the secretion of
various sorts of aphides, is very worthless in quality,
though bees are extremely fond of the liquid.
It is a remarkable and unfortunate fact, that the
honey collected from certain flowers is, though innocuous
to bees, more or less injurious to the human
body. Xenophon tells us in his Anabasis that his
soldiers found many hives in the neighbourhood of
Trebizonde, and, after eating of the contents, the
men were seized with violent purging and vomiting,
stupefaction, and inability to stand. Those who ate
little became like men very drunk, and those who ate
much, like madmen, and some like dying persons.
- 46 -
In this condition great numbers lay upon the ground,
as if there had been a defeat. None of them died,
and in about twenty-four hours they recovered consciousness.
On the third or fourth day after the
seizure they got up, but were like men who had
taken powerful physic.
Tournefort, when travelling in Asia Minor, recollecting
these historical circumstances, made careful
investigations as to the probabilities of the case.
Two kinds of shrubs were pointed out to him as
bearing flowers, the honey from which was deleterious,
and the very odour of which is still said to produce
headache. These plants were the rhododendron
Ponticum, and azalea Pontica, nearly allied species,
growing abundantly in that part of the world.
Father Lamberti corroborates Xenophon's description,
by stating that similar effects have been
produced by the honey of Colchis, where these
shrubs are common.
We learn from an account published by Dr. Barton
in the American Philosophical Transactions, that, in
the autumn of 1790, several fatal cases occurred near
Philadelphia, from eating honey collected in the
neighbourhood. An official investigation into the
circumstances led to the conviction that the source of
the mischief lay in the flowers of the kalmia latifolia
Still more recently, some persons in New York lost
their lives from, as it was supposed, eating honey
derived from the flowers of a species of dwarf laurel,
common in the vicinity. A further instance of the
influence of the kalmia tribe of flowers is given in the
fact that honey drawn chiefly from the species latifolia,
in New Jersey, is unsaleable, from its intoxicating
- 47 -
qualities, though the bees themselves thrive prodigiously
upon it.
Sometimes the colour is said to indicate the nature
of the liquid, that which is mischievous being distinguished
by a reddish or brown tinge; but this is by
no means a sure indication of quality, for, in Florida
and Carolina, the wild honey having harmful properties
is so like in appearance that which is perfectly
wholesome, that the hunters at first eat very sparingly
of their newly-found treasures, till they have proved, by
experimenting on themselves, what its properties are.
Again, some "blood-red honey," found in Abyssinia,
is said to be quite free from objectionable elements;
and Linnæus tells us that the Swedish honey from
the heath-flowers is of a reddish hue, but excellent in
quality. That obtained in the Highlands of Scotland
is occasionally observed to have a brownish tinge,
but no ill effects are found to result from the use of
it, though some have asserted that it has a soporific
influence.
There is little doubt that the colours of honey from
different localities vary according to the prevalence
of flowers most frequently visited by the bees. Its
aroma and taste are influenced, as we might suppose,
by the same circumstances. As a natural result, we
find also that the excellence of the liquid depends
much on the season at which it is collected. The
primest is the produce of the early summer. That
which is stored in spring excels what is gleaned in
autumn. The produce of the earlier part of the
harvest is better than that which is stored when
flowers grow scarce and fruits are ripening.
The distances to which bees will travel in search of
- 48 -
their food-supplies are very astonishing. They have
been proved to fly four or five miles to favourite pasturage.
A gentleman, wishing to test this fact, dusted
with fine flour his bees as they emerged from a hive.
Then driving to a heath five miles distant, which he
knew to be much frequented by the insects, he soon
found many of those which he had sprinkled at
home. Their instinct, indeed, appears to lead them
considerably afield, and hence it is of slight use to
plant, as recommended by some writers, particular
flowers near an apiary. Moreover, unless such
flowers are grown for seed purposes, or in very
large quantities, the amount of nutriment they will
afford is almost inappreciable.
Fields where the white or Dutch clover abounds,
and heath districts, are, perhaps, the finest sources
of honey-supply. Our fruit blossoms of almost all
kinds also furnish abundant stores to the busy
insects.
The uses of honey hardly require to be pointed
out. Besides being an agreeable addition to the
breakfast or tea-table, as a substitute for butter, it is
often very serviceable as a laxative, when taken in
moderate quantity. It is frequently employed in
medical confections, as a vehicle for the administration
of certain drugs; and its generally wholesome
properties have been thoroughly ascertained. Its use
for the manufacture of metheglin, or mead, is not
now extensive, but in earlier periods of British
history this beverage was held in high esteem.
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CHAPTER VII.
MEAD.
Nature—Method of Manufacture—Metheglin and Mead—Estimation
in former times—Queen Elizabeth's Recipe—Scandinavian liking
for Mead.
The sugar of various vegetables is susceptible of
alcoholic fermentation; so from the sugar of malt we
get beer, from that of the grape, wine. Honey is,
as we have said, a substance containing sugar, which
may also be made to yield a vinous liquor. Usually
only the washings of drained combs are used up for
the manufacture of mead. The saccharine extract
is skimmed, strained, and boiled. Then a certain
proportion of raisins is added, together with a little
ground ginger, and a few bay or laurel leaves for
flavouring. A small quantity of brewer's yeast sets
up the necessary fermentation, and after the liquor
has been put into a barrel, and allowed to "work"
for two or three days, it is bunged up, and at the end
of six months may be bottled, and soon afterwards
will be fit for use. Of course, run honey may be
used for the purpose, but its employment is a more
expensive mode of manufacture.
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Properly speaking, the word "metheglin" was
applied to the superior sorts of mead, the two
beverages being related much in the same way as
effervescing bottled cider and the ordinary draught
cider.
Mead-making seems anciently to have been considered
a matter of great interest and importance,
and we are told by old authors that the Court
brewer of this beverage for Princes of Wales was
the physician of the household, and ranked eleventh
in point of dignity. Æthelstan, King of Kent in
the tenth century, on paying a visit to his relative
Æthelfleda, expressed his satisfaction that there was
no stint of mead. According to an antique rule of
the Welsh Court, there were "three things which
must be communicated to the king before they were
imparted to any other person. First, every sentence
of the judge; second, every new song; and third,
every cask of mead."
Queen Elizabeth was so fond of this beverage as to
have it made regularly every year; and her recipe
has been preserved to our own day. It may interest
our readers to give it entire: "Take of sweetbriar
leaves and thyme each one bushel, rosemary half a
bushel, bay leaves one peck. Seethe these ingredients
in a furnace full of water [containing probably not
less than 120 gallons], boil for half an hour; pour
the whole into a vat, and when cooled to a proper
temperature [about 75° Fahr.], strain. Add to every
six gallons of the strained liquor a gallon of fine
honey, and work the mixture together for half an
hour. Repeat the stirring occasionally for two days;
then boil the liquor afresh, skim it till it becomes
- 51 -
clear, and return it to the vat to cool. When reduced
again to a proper temperature [about 80° Fahr.],
pour it into a vessel from which fresh ale or beer has
just been emptied; let it work for three days, and
then barrel it. When fit [after fermentation] to be
stopped down, tie up a bag of beaten cloves and
mace [half an ounce of each], and suspend it in the
liquor from the bung-hole. When it has stood for
half a year, it will be fit for use."
Mead remained in favour long after the introduction
of malt liquors, and the northern inhabitants of
Europe drank it habitually till comparatively modern
times. Even so late as Dryden's day, it would appear
to have been in much more common use than
now: for he says of its employment for tempering
strong wines:—
"T'allay the strength and hardness of the wine,
Let with old Bacchus new metheglin join."
It was probably the liquor called by Ossian the
joy and strength of skulls, and which so much
delighted his heroes. It was the ideal nectar of the
Scandinavian nations, which they expected to drink
in heaven, using the skulls of their enemies for
goblets, while they were to regale themselves also
on boars' flesh. So we read in Penrose's Carousal
of Odin:—
"Fill the honeyed beverage high,
Fill the skulls, 'tis Odin's cry!
Heard ye not the powerful call,
Thundering through the vaulted hall?
Fill the meath, and spread the board,
Vassals of the grisly lord!
The feast begins, the skull goes round,
Laughter shouts the shouts resound."
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A quantity of mead sufficient for the very
mundane tastes of these celestial heroes was supposed
to be daily supplied by a goat, called
Heidruna, of whom Cottle says:—
"Whose spacious horn would fill the bowl
That raised to rapture Odin's soul;
And ever drinking—ever dry—
Still the copious stream supply."
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CHAPTER VIII.
WAX.
Origin—Production—Chemical Constitution—Comb Building—Detailed
Description—Amount of Wax in Hives—Commercial Value—Properties.
Fig. 10.—A Worker Bee, showing the Scales of Wax.
It was long thought that wax was a product
derived, like honey, immediately from flowers. Not
only did popular ignorance suppose that the pellets
of pollen carried on the thighs of the worker-bees
consisted of this substance, but even some authors
on apiculture fell into the same error. It is now
ascertained with certainty that wax is a sort of
animal fat, elaborated from honey by certain internal
organs of the bee. It exudes in a liquid form from
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sacklets on the under side of each of the four intermediate
ventral segments of the abdomen. There
are two of these pockets to each segment, one on
either side of the carina or elevated central part.
They are trapeziform in shape, and impart the same
form to the tiny plates which emerge from them.
On reaching the air the liquid thickens, and dries in
flakes like fish-scales. The secretion of wax is carried
on by the workers only, queens and drones being
destitute of the apparatus necessary for the purpose.
No direct communication has been traced between
the stomach and the wax-sacks, but it has been conjectured
by Hunter that the secretion is effected by
the network of vessels lining the receptacles as a
membrane covered with hexagonal cells, somewhat
like the second stomach of ruminating quadrupeds.
Chemically considered, wax consists entirely of
carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen; and, as before mentioned,
is elaborated wholly from honey. Some
authors have maintained that pollen is necessary for
its production, but this is the case probably only
indirectly; that is to say, the nitrogenous constituent
of pollen may be necessary for the nutriment and
stimulation of the secreting organs. It certainly
does not enter into the constitution of the wax
itself.
The quantity of honey required for this process of
wax-making is very large. It is generally believed,
in fact, to be from fifteen to twenty times the weight
of the material derived from it; in other words, for
every ounce of wax produced, at least a pound of
honey is consumed by the bees. During the oxygenation
of so large a quantity of saccharine matter, much
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heat is evolved a fact frequently noticed when comb-building
is going on rapidly in a hive.
Fig. 11.—Festoons of Bees Suspended from the Roof of the Hive.
When wax is required for the abode of a fresh
swarm, or for filling up vacant spaces with comb,
the bees hang in festoons or chains, crossing the hive
in different directions. Remaining almost motionless
for about twenty-four hours, the wax-makers
proceed with their business. Then, as soon as the
little scales are of the proper consistency, they are
withdrawn by the pincers on the hind legs of the bee, and carried
between the fore-legs to the mouth. There, worked
up with a small quantity of saliva, the substance is
softened ready for use, and being conveyed away by
those who have prepared it, and deposited in small
masses, it furnishes the materials from which the
comb-builders do their share of the duties of the
hive. Possibly some of the individuals of the lower
parts of the festoons, or clusters, may pass up their
portions of wax to those above them for transmission
- 56 -
to the top of the hive; but the fact is not thoroughly
ascertained. Evans graphically says:—
"Lo, filtered through yon flutterer's folded mail,
Clings the cooled wax, and hardens to a scale.
Swift, at her well-known call, the ready train
(For not a buzz boon Nature breathes in vain)
Spring to each falling flake, and bear along
Their glossy burdens to the builder-throng."
It often happens that the fine scales fall by accident,
or perhaps, when superabundant in quantity,
on to the floor-boards of hives, and it does not
appear, from our observation, that those bees who
happen to come upon these little portions of material
carry them up for employment in cell-formation.
The wax is used in comb-building, and the subject
is one of great interest on many accounts, but
especially from the following considerations: the
nature of the material; the organs by which it is
produced; the implements with which it is fashioned
into shape; the manner in which the work is done;
the form of the cells, the mathematical characters of
which are most surprising; their different sizes and
shapes, according to the purposes for which they
are destined; their perfect adaptation to the needs
of the bee community.
With regard to the nature of the material, in addition
to the facts already mentioned, we may note
that it is a substance easily moulded, especially when
exposed to a gentle heat, such as is generated in a
hive. It is light, so as to add little to the weight of
the contents which will be stored in the cells. It is
also a very slow conductor of heat, a matter of great
- 57 -
importance both in summer and in winter. For, if it
readily both absorbed and radiated heat, the temperature
would, in the former season, become too high;
while, in the winter, too great effort, and a large
additional amount of food, would be needed by the
bees to keep up the temperature of the hive to a
point of safety for its inhabitants. Again, wax is a
material which, by means of propolis (of which we
shall presently speak), admits of being fastened in
position so securely as to be able to bear a great
weight of brood, honey, and bee-bread, in the
cells.
The organs by which wax is secreted, and the
implements with which it is fashioned, will be described
fully in the chapter devoted to the physiology
and anatomy of the bee; but we may say here that
they are exceedingly simple, and that it is wonderful
such beautiful work can be accomplished by means
of them.
But the manner in which comb-building is done
is so marvellous, that it merits a detailed description.
It is to Huber that we are indebted for the full
exposition of this subject, and we cannot do better
than quote his account of the process, as given by
Kirby and Spence. We must premise, however, that
the great naturalist thought there were two distinct
classes of workers, the one of which he called the
wax-makers; the other, the nurse-bees. Observations
continued since his day have rendered it certain that
this is a mistaken distinction. As a general rule
the care of the young devolves, as we have already
said, on the most recently hatched of the community,
who are unfit, for some days after emerging from the
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cell, to take distant flight in search of stores from
flowers. The older and stronger workers, on the
other hand, go abroad for supplies, and then, on
their return, secrete whatever wax is needed in the
economy of the hive.
Fig. 12.—Cluster of Bees.
The process of comb-building is described by
Huber as follows:—"The wax-makers having taken
a due portion of honey or sugar, from either of which
wax can be elaborated, suspend themselves to each
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other, the claws of the fore-legs of the lowermost
being attached to those of the hind pair of the
uppermost, and form themselves into a cluster, the
exterior layer of which looks like a kind of curtain.
This cluster consists of a series of festoons or garlands,
which cross each other in all directions, and
in which most of the bees turn their back upon the
observer.... The wax-makers remain immovable
for about twenty-four hours, during which period
the formation of wax takes place, and thin laminæ of
this material may be generally perceived under their
abdomen.
Fig. 13.—Wax-Worker Commencing a Comb.
"One of these bees is now seen to detach
itself from one of the central garlands of the cluster,
to make a way amongst its companions to the middle
of the vault, or top of the hive, and by turning itself
round to form a kind of void, in which it can move
itself freely. It then suspends itself to the centre of
the space which it has cleared, the diameter of which
is about an inch. It next seizes one of the laminæ
of wax with a pincer formed by the posterior metatarsus
(last joint of the leg), and tibia (last joint but
two), and drawing it from beneath the abdominal
segments, one of the anterior legs takes it with its
claws and carries it to the mouth. This leg holds
the lamina with its claws vertically, the tongue
rolled up serving for a support, and by elevating it
or depressing it at will, causes the whole of its
- 60 -
circumference to be exposed to the action of its mandibles
(or jaws), so that the margin is soon gnawed
into pieces, which drop as they are detached into the
double cavity, bordered with hairs, of the mandibles
(jaws). These fragments, pressed by others newly
separated, fall on one side of the mouth, and issue
from it in the form of a narrow riband. They are
then presented to the tongue, which impregnates
them with a frothy liquor like a bouilli. During this
operation the tongue assumes all sorts of forms;
sometimes it is flattened like a spatula, then like a
trowel, which applies itself to the riband of wax. At
other times it resembles a pencil terminating in a
point. After having moistened the whole of the
riband, the tongue pushes it to make it re-enter the
mandibles, but in an opposite direction, where it is
worked up anew. The liquor mixed with the wax
communicates to it a whiteness and opacity which it
had not before; and the object of this mixture, which
did not escape the observation of Réaumur, is,
doubtless, to give it that ductility and tenacity which
it possesses in its perfect state.
"The foundress-bee—the name which this first beginner
of a comb deserves—next applies these prepared
parcels of wax against the vault (or top of a
frame) of the hive, disposing them with the point of her
mandibles in the direction which she wishes them to
take; and she continues these manœuvres until she
has employed the whole lamina that she had separated
from her body, when she takes a second, proceeding
in the same manner. She gives herself no care to
compress the molecules of wax which she has heaped
together. She is satisfied if they adhere to each
- 61 -
other. At length she leaves her work, and is lost in
the crowd of her companions. Another succeeds and
resumes the employment, then a third. All follow
the same plan of placing their little masses, and if
any one, by chance, gives them a contrary direction,
another coming removes them to their proper place.
"The result of all these operations is a mass or
little wall of wax, with uneven surfaces, five or six
lines (twelfths of an inch) long, two lines high, and
half a line thick, which descends perpendicularly. In
this first work is no angle nor any trace of the figure
of the cells. It is a simple partition in a right line
without any inflection.
"The wax-makers having thus laid a foundation
of a comb, are succeeded by the nurse-bees [here
Huber is wrong[2]], which are alone competent to
model and perfect the work. The former are the
labourers, who convey the stone and mortar; the
latter the masons, who work them up into the form
which the intended structure requires. One of these
bees now places itself horizontally on the vault (or
bar-frame) of the hive, its head corresponding to the
centre of the mass or wall which the wax-makers
have left, and which is to form the partition of the
comb into two opposite assemblages of cells; and
with its mandibles (jaws), rapidly moving its head, it
moulds in that side of the wall a cavity which is to
form the base of one of the cells, to the diameter of
which it is equal. When it has worked some minutes
it departs, and another takes its place, deepening the
cavity, heightening its lateral margins by heaping up
the wax to right and left, by means of its teeth and
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fore-feet, and giving to them a more upright form.
More than twenty bees successively employ themselves
in this work.
"When arrived at a certain point, other bees begin
on the yet untouched and opposite side of the mass,
and commencing the bottom of two cells, are in turn
relieved by others. While still engaged in this
labour the wax-makers return, and add to the mass,
augmenting its extent in every way, the builders
again continuing their operations. After having
worked the bottom of the cells of the first row into
their proper forms, they polish them, and give them
their finish, while others begin the outline of a new
series.
"The cells themselves, or prisms, which result from
the reunion and meeting of the sides, are next
constructed. These are engrafted on the borders of
the cavities hollowed in the mass. The bees begin
them by making the contour of the bottoms, which
is at first unequal, of equal height. Thus all the
margins of the cells offer an uniformly level surface
from their first origin, and until they have acquired
their proper length. The sides are heightened in an
order analogous to that which the insects follow in
finishing the bottom of the cells, and the length of
these tubes is so perfectly proportioned that there is
no observable inequality between them."
Thus writes the great Swiss observer of bees.
Without quoting at greater length from his published
observations, we may give some additional
particulars relating to the geometrical characters of
honey-comb.
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The cells of the first row laid down are pentagonal
in shape. This gives them a stronger attachment to
the hive than if they had had the hexagonal figure
of the succeeding rows. But no form besides the six-sided
prism would have answered all the conditions
of the problem "how with the least expenditure of
material to secure the greatest available space with
the best arrangement for the purposes to be served."
Fig. 14.—Diagram of Cells.
Fig. 15.—Supposed Circular Cells.
Approached from the purely theoretical side, the
question has been investigated by mathematicians.
It requires no great acumen to determine that a
hexagon of some sort is the geometrical figure which
must be adopted. An equilateral triangle would
make a very unsuitable abode for an insect with a
nearly round body. A square cell would hardly be
more convenient. A series of circles would, of course,
leave interstices between them, causing a useless
expenditure of space, material, time and strength.
- 64 -
A further difficulty would arise with regard to the
storage of the honey, which finds points of attachment
in the angles of a hexagon, and so is less liable to
run out of the cells.
Fig. 16.—Arrangement of Cells.
The next matter then to settle
is, the magnitude of the angles at which the sides of
the hexagon should slope towards each other, so as
to be the most advantageous. Réaumur put the
problem in mathematical language before M. König,
a skilful geometrician, thus:—"To determine by calculations
what ought to be the angle of a hexagonal
cell, with a pyramidal bottom, formed of three similar
and equal rhomboid plates, so that the least matter
possible might enter into its construction." The result
of his investigations was that the angles of the rhombs
must be 109° 26′ and 70° 34′. Cramer, professor of
mathematics in the University of Geneva, also undertook
the problem. His calculations, made on somewhat
different principles from König's, gave for the
angles 109° 28′ 16″, and 70° 31′ 44″. Maraldi, a third
- 65 -
mathematician, assuming the equality of the angles
of the trapezia forming the sides of the hexagon
adjacent to the rhombs and those of the rhombs
themselves, and that the solid angle at the apex of
the pyramid, composed of equal obtuse angles, is precisely
equal to each of the three angles at the base,
also composed of three equal obtuse angles, came to
the conclusion that the angles must be 109° 28′ and
70° 32′.
These three sets of results, so remarkably accordant,
when we consider the minuteness of the differences
between them, in figures so small as the actual
honey-comb cells, show the closest correspondence to
the actual measurements of the work of the bees.
Maraldi found the angles of the latter to be 110° and
70°, as nearly as could be ascertained. We have
dwelt at some length upon this point, because it illustrates,
in a most marvellous manner, the power of
that inborn faculty we call instinct, which arrives,
without training, at results so precisely agreeing
with those of the highest efforts of our intellectual
reasonings. To the devout mind, the conclusion is
inevitable that Divine Wisdom is the inspiring force
which energizes the mental operations of the bees in
their cell-building.
A further advantage of the actual shape of the
honey-comb prisms is that, thereby, strength is combined
with economy. No other form would so efficiently
have carried the heavy weights constantly
stored in the forms of honey, brood, and bee-bread.
The bottoms and sides of the cells are made of wax
as thin as a sheet of writing-paper; but as walls of
this thinness at the entrances would break down
- 66 -
under the weight of the constantly passing insects,
the margin at the opening of each cell is made four
or five times thicker than the walls. Then, as the
cells are lengthened, this thickness is reduced, always
remaining the same, however, at the actual margins.
Dr. Barclay also discovered that, though the tenuity of
the divisions is so great, each, in point of fact, consists
of two distinct layers agglutinated together. This
gives, again, an increase of strength, as any practical
builder would know who, in his "bressummers,"
adopts the same method of attaining lightness and
power of sustaining great weights.
Fig. 17.—Diagram Showing Slope of Cells.
The actual size of the cells in a hive varies considerably,
as we might expect. Without regarding
those for queen-progeny, we should anticipate that
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those in which young drones are to be developed
would be considerably larger than those prepared for
workers. This is, indeed, the case. But as an abrupt
change from the one kind to the other would be
impossible without waste, the bees prudently graduate
the difference by interposing a suitable series of
intermediate sizes, whose bottoms, of course, have to
depart from the normal conditions, and sometimes
consist of two rhomboids and two hexagons, varying
in size and form, and corresponding with four, instead
of three, opposite cells. In these, stores are often
found, instead of brood. If eggs are laid in them,
they are generally those which will develop into
males, and the space for development being smaller
than usual, the drones occupying such cells are not
so large as the average size.
As a rule, the hexagonal ends of twenty-seven
worker cells, or nineteen drone cells, occupy a
surface of one square inch. All the cells lie not
quite horizontally, but sloping slightly downwards
from the mouth towards the bases. This arrangement
is designed to prevent the honey from easily
flowing out. As the cells are filled with the liquid,
the lower edge of each is first raised, and, in due
time, the whole of the once open end is sealed over
with a coating of wax mixed with a little propolis.
This covering not only keeps the contents from running
out, but prevents fermentation or candying, from
contact with the air.
Each comb consists of a double layer of cells, back
to back, and forming a sort of flat cake. At first
this is lenticular in shape, the middle part being
advanced rather more rapidly than the ends.
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It is a curious fact that the bees do not, on being
put into a hive, or when working in a bell-glass, begin
several combs at once; but, having thoroughly laid
the foundation of one, and having made some progress
with this, they then start one on each side of
the first, and, after a time, one on the outer side of
each of the last begun. Usually, therefore, the combs
hang in parallel series. If any obstruction occurs, a
deviation from the normal direction takes place, but,
manifest intelligence is shown in surmounting the
difficulty, whatever it may be.
Fig. 18.—Arrangement of Combs in a Bell-Glass.
At first, the substance of the cells is of a dull, semi-transparent,
white colour, soft, and very brittle. After
a time, a yellow tinge spreads over the comb, and,
with age, this hue deepens to brown, and if some
years old, becomes almost black. The colour, therefore,
furnishes a tolerably safe guide as to the age of
comb. The darkening seems due, partly to a chemical
change from contact with the air, but still more to
the constant traffic of the bees over it, and its getting
smeared with dirt and propolis.
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It occasionally happens that, owing to a great
in-flow of honey, the weight of the combs endangers
their security, and the bees, seeing the danger of
their breaking down, resort to a most clever method
of rendering their treasures safe. Gnawing away a
small part of the topmost row of the combs on one
side, they lay a broader foundation, and then, with a
strongly glutinous mixture of wax and propolis, they
fasten afresh the upper cells to their points of attachment.
Having completed one side, they then proceed
in the same way with the other, till they are satisfied
of the firmness of the whole structure.
Again, if the supply of food outruns the capacity
of their store-houses as first made, they will often
lengthen the cells, till, especially in the case of
supers, they reach the length of even two inches—more
than twice the normal size.
Fig. 19.—The Queen Cell.
The queen-cells are remarkably distinguished from
those for workers or drones, in respect to size, direction,
shape, and amount of material. They occupy
at least as much space as half a dozen ordinary cells.
They are directed downwards, instead of lying horizontally.
They are irregularly oval or pyriform in
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shape, and are made up of a sort of mosaic of wax,
which material, so sparingly used elsewhere, seems
lavished on the royal nurseries. The reasons for this
are, probably, to secure the young queens from
danger while passing through the larval and pupal
conditions, and to keep up the warmth necessary for
their more rapid development. Wax being a very
bad conductor of heat, the thick walls prevent the
chilling of the brood, and, at the same time, allow of
considerable clustering of nurse-bees, and consequent
generation of warmth, without the danger of the cells
being broken down by the pressure.
Fig. 20.—Queen Cells in Situ.
Bees-wax forms a not unimportant article of
commerce. From Germany, Greece, Cyprus, and
still more largely from North America, we derive
what is needed to make up the deficiency in our
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home production of it. Its uses are numerous. For
household purposes, especially for polishing furniture,
for some varnishes and unguents, for candles and
matches, for modelling, particularly in dentistry, it is
consumed in great quantities. Since the introduction
of paraffin and similar substances for lighting purposes,
the amount used for candles has diminished, though
the demand for it in other directions does not appear
to have fallen off. Bee-keepers now use it greatly
for "foundation-comb."
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CHAPTER IX.
POLLEN, OR BEE-BREAD.
Origin—Collection—Conveyance—Deposition—Quantity Stored—Uses—Artificial
Substitutes.
Honey consists, like most saccharine substances,
of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen. It is fitted, therefore,
as a food to supply the waste in the body of the
bee produced by respiration; but for the nourishment
of muscular tissue, and so for the growth of the
larvæ and pupæ, some nitrogenous material is required.
This is obtained by the insects from the
pollen of flowers. This substance, we need hardly
say, is the fertilising powder necessary for the production
of seeds in plants, and growing on the
anthers, or tops of the stamens, within the corolla
of most flowers. The workers in search of honey
rub off this farina with their hairy bodies and with
the bristles of their legs. Then, on taking wing, they
clear it off by rapid combings of their limbs; and
rolling the powder into little pellets, they deposit it
in pockets situated on the outside of the middle
joint of the hindmost pair of legs. When filled,
these receptacles with their loads appear like coloured
balls on the laden workers. Sometimes the bees get
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so covered with pollen from plants containing large
quantities of it, that they cannot clear themselves of
the powder till they return to their homes; and, in
some cases, they need the assistance of their fellows
to brush off what adheres too tightly, or in places
not easily reached by the individual herself.
Fig. 21.—Hind-leg of a Bee.
When the pollen-laden bee has reached the combs,
she searches for a cell already containing the same
material as that she is carrying, or which is suitable
for her purpose. Then, having found what she wants,
she inserts her hindmost legs into the cell, and, by a
dexterous movement, detaches the little balls, and,
on retiring, gives herself some vigorous shakes, as if
to clear herself of still adherent flower-dust. Then
another worker, whose duty it is to see to the proper
storing of the bee-bread, rams it down with her head
into a compact mass, and the process goes on till the
cell is filled.
No particular portion of the combs seems selected
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for the deposit of this substance, nor is it ascertained
that what is procured from any particular kind of
plant is placed apart; but a mixture of various
pollens appears to be made, though during the prevalence
of any special flower yielding the material,
certain colours predominate, as might be expected, in
the stores of bee-bread.
The quantities collected by a prosperous colony
must be very great. Some writers put the amount
at twenty pounds in the course of a season. The
carrying in of this produce is usually a sure sign that
there is brood in the hive. The absence of a supply
going in generally raises the suspicion that no young
are developing, owing to the loss of the queen. The
amount seen to be carried in is, therefore, a rough
indication of the prosperity of the community.
In early seasons its collection begins as soon as
February. During April and May, i.e. in the height
of the blossoming time, the largest quantities are
stored; and this period corresponds with the most
rapid and extensive increase of the population of
the hive.
The nurse-bees take some portion of the pollen
immediately it is brought in, and, working it up with
honey and saliva, prepare the food for the larvæ. In
some cases, they partially digest it before giving it to
the young brood. It is believed that the queen,
when laying her thousands of eggs, needs copious
supplies of nitrogenous nutriment, and that her
attendants diligently feed her with honey mixed with
bee-bread, which has been partly prepared in their
stomachs for quick assimilation in the body of their
monarch.
- 75 -
When plant-blossoms are scarce, the skilful apiarian
supplies his stock with some substitute for pollen.
Dr. Dzierzon was the first to propose fine rye-meal for
this purpose; and he was led to make the suggestion
by having noticed, that, in the early spring, before
flowers were blooming in sufficient quantity to satisfy
the wants of his bees, they entered a neighbouring
mill, and returned to their hives well powdered with
rye-flour. Pea-meal has been tried with much success
for this purpose. The method of using it recommended
is to put the meal into a soup-plate, or
shallow dish or trough, among shavings. The bees
may be enticed to take to it by a little honey placed
on the rim of the receptacle, or by showing a few
individuals the way to it. When once the treasure
has been discovered by the workers, they make
abundant visits to it. They, indeed, prefer the pea-flour
to the old stores of bee-bread remaining in the
hive; but, so soon as the natural supplies of the
plant-blossoms are sufficient in amount for the wants
of the brood, the substitute is quite neglected.
In extracting honey from combs by pressure, it is
well to avoid any admixture of the bee-bread, as its
taste is by no means a pleasant addition to the
flavour of the sweet liquid. By using any of the
"extractor" machines now in vogue, all danger of
having the pollen mingled with the honey is
avoided.
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CHAPTER X.
PROPOLIS.
Derivation of Word—Sources—Nature—Purposes—Quantity Collected—Adaptation
of Materials to Wants of Bees.
Another substance carried in, and largely used
by the bees, is an exceedingly sticky material called
propolis, from two Greek words signifying "before
the city," as it was observed, in early times, that it
was employed in strengthening the outworks of their
fortress-home, or, at least, in firmly securing the rim
of their hives to their floor-boards.
It was formerly a matter of considerable discussion
whether this substance was a natural vegetable product,
or whether it was elaborated, as wax is. There
is now little doubt that it is chiefly a sort of resin
derived from plants, and especially from the leaf-buds
of certain kinds, like the horse-chestnut, the alder,
birch, willow, and hollyhock. Huber, to whom we
are indebted for so many interesting and careful
observations on apiculture, tried the experiment of
placing in pots branches of the poplar, before the
buds had opened, and these he put near his apiary.
The bees, settling on them, separated the folds of
the largest buds, extracted the resinous matter in
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threads, loaded it on their thighs, as they do pollen,
and carried it to their hives. In the spring one may
often notice a loud humming round the foliage of
deodars, firs, and other coniferæ; and some wonder
may, at first, be felt as to what the busy insects can
want from such absolutely honeyless trees. When
we remember the turpentinous exudations which are
so abundant in these cone-bearers, all difficulty disappears.
It is for supplies of propolis the workers
are searching. Evans says on this subject:—
"With merry hum the willow's copse they scale,
The fir's dark pyramid, or poplar pale;
Scoop from the alder's leaf its oozy flood,
Or strip the chestnut's resin-coated bud,
Skim the light tear that tips Narcissus' ray,
Or round the hollyhock's hoar fragrance play."
It is most probable that, with the resinous substances
collected from trees, they knead up a certain
proportion of wax, to increase the tenacity. The
resulting product is one of extraordinarily glutinous
quality. With it the bees stop every chink and crack
and cranny in their abodes. With it they stick down
skeps to floor-boards, fasten, if they can, frames to
the top of bar-hives, firmly fix the combs to their
points of attachment, strengthen weak places in their
dwellings, and, in some cases, where glass has been
inserted in the walls of hives for observation purposes,
the panes are found completely coated with
propolis, so as to exclude the light.
In colour, this cement is greenish yellow, darkening
with age to brown. Its odour is balsamic and somewhat
powerful, resembling that of storax. It was
formerly supposed to possess medicinal properties,
- 78 -
and was kept in the shop of the apothecary. When
smeared on the fingers, it is very difficult of removal.
Soap has no effect upon it; water fails to wash it off;
but spirits of wine readily dissolve it, and are the
most easy and effectual means of getting it off
the skin.
Bees usually choose the middle of the day for
gathering this substance, as the warmth of the air,
by softening the resinous material, facilitates the
obtaining of it from the trees, and prevents its too
speedy hardening before it reaches the hives. Sometimes,
indeed, the resin becomes so firm in consistency
by the time the collectors of it get home, that they
require the assistance of their fellow-workers to
detach it from their thighs.
One very remarkable use to which propolis is
occasionally put by the bees, is for the covering up
of mice, snails, frogs, or other intruders, whose expulsion
is impossible, or who have died after entering
the hives. Réaumur relates that, on one occasion, he
observed a snail thus glued down to a piece of glass
in one of his hives; and, in another instance, where a
slug had been stung to death, and was far too large
for removal by the insects, these clever sanitarians
completely enveloped the mollusc with a coating of
propolis-varnish, to prevent the emanation of any
noxious vapours when decomposition set in. It was,
in fact, a distinct instance of embalming. Huish
mentions that a mouse was similarly treated by one
of his stocks of bees.
The quantity of propolis collected is sometimes
very large, particularly where spaces are left at the
top, sides, or bottoms of bee-dwellings. At present,
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this substance has not been turned to any serviceable
human use.
In reviewing these various products gathered or
elaborated by bees, we cannot fail to be struck with
the marvellous adaptation of different materials to
the wants of the community, the skill displayed in
the application of them to the general purposes of
the commonwealth; and, above all, the wondrous
suitability of means to ends, shown by the workers
of the hive. If we refuse to allow the possession
of reason to these extraordinary insects, we must
admit the existence in them of some faculty almost
more to be admired; and, in any case, we can but
bow in reverence before the all-comprehensive Divine
wisdom and goodness, which have endowed creatures
so small with powers so surprising which have made
them subservient to human needs or comfort, and
which have enabled the bees to work even to better
advantage under the tutelage of man, than when left
to their natural habits and surroundings.
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CHAPTER XI.
PHYSIOLOGY OF THE BEE.
Nervous System—The Head—Eyes—Compound and Simple—Uses
and Powers—Sir John Lubbock's Experiments—The
Antennæ—Structure and Uses—Mouth—Detailed Description.
Before proceeding to detail the most important
facts connected with the internal economy of the
hive, it will be desirable to describe with some minuteness
the physiology and anatomy of the inhabitants,
so that it may be more easy to understand the
means by which various processes are accomplished,
and the most important events of the community are
brought about. Much that has been hitherto said
will become more readily comprehended by attention
to the structure of the various organs we are now
about to describe.
It will hardly be necessary to enter into a more
minute account, than we have already given, of the
egg, the larva, and the pupa. We shall, therefore,
confine ourselves to detailing the most interesting
points in the physiology of the perfect insect.
It has been noted, in an earlier chapter, that the
members of this division of the animal kingdom are
characterised by having three very distinct segments
- 81 -
in their bodies the head, the thorax, and the abdomen.
As the nature and arrangement of the nervous
system forms one of the soundest bases of classification
in the highest of the three kingdoms in nature,
we shall first direct attention, in each case, to this all-important
matter of detail.
Fig. 22.—Nervous System of Privet Hawk-moth.
Fig. 23.—Nervous System of Larva of Bee.
The general arrangement of the nerve-matter in the sub-kingdom
- 82 -
Articulata, to which all true insects belong, is that of
a double cord, with knot-like protuberances, called
ganglia, at more or less regular intervals. The two
filaments are in some cases close together: in others,
quite distinct; while the larger nerve-masses—the
previously mentioned ganglia—also vary in juxtaposition,
according to the greater or less importance
of the functions they regulate. In the illustration of
the larva of Sphinx ligustri (the privet hawk-moth)
(Fig. 22), the nervous cord is nearly uniform throughout
its length, though at its upper portion a separation
takes place into three loops. The ganglia also occur
at almost equal distances. A very similar disposition
of the nerve-structure is seen in the larval condition
of the bee; but we may note the absence of loops, the
larger development of the cephalic masses, without
- 83 -
the separation of their filaments to inclose the gullet
together with a more plainly-defined distance between
the cords which run parallel through the rest
of the body.
Fig. 24.—Nervous System of Perfect Insect.
In the perfect insect we observe some decided
modifications to have taken place. The head portions
have grown proportionally larger, and show a
loop for the passage of the Å“sophagus, while two
large ganglia in the thorax indicate the seat of impressions
and impulses connected with the organs of
motion—wings and legs—which had no existence in
- 84 -
the larval condition. As the functions of the abdominal
region, viz., those of digestion and circulation
chiefly, remain much the same in the different states
through which the individual passes after the hatching
of the egg, we find, as we might expect, little
change in the nervous system of the posterior
segment of the body.
From each nerve-mass will be observed filaments
branching on either side to the outer edges of the
body. By means of these communication is kept
up between all parts of the frame. Sensations are
received and conveyed to the sensorial organs, and
return-stimuli are sent to the organs whose movements
depend for regulation on the different ganglia.
This branching of the nerve-fibre is directly proportional
to the variety and force of the several functions
subserved by the various structures to which they
proceed.
The Head.—We will now describe in some detail
the structure and functions of the highly-important
organs contained in the anterior segment, or head.
And first in order let us take the
Eyes.—On either side of the head may be observed
an oval lobe, convexly rounded and immovable,
brown in colour, covered with a horny tunicle, and
exhibiting to the unassisted eye a vast number of
distinct points. These points, under a high-power
magnifying-glass, are seen to be facets, hexagonal in
shape, so as to occupy all available space, without
interstices, and each connected with a minute tube
and a thread of nerve-matter leading to the cephalic
ganglia or brain. These compound eyes, as they are
called, are common to most true insects. They may
- 85 -
be easily seen in flies, bluebottles, moths, butterflies,
&c. The numbers of the facets vary greatly in
different families of the Articulata. In the common
house-fly there are, it is stated, about 4,000; in the
white cabbage-butterfly, 17,000; in the dragon-fly,
24,000. It has been computed that in each compound
eye of the bee there are about 3,500 of them.
Fig. 25.—Eyes of a Bee, Greatly Magnified.
Behind the horny covering, or cornea, which consists
of two plano-convex lenses, is a layer of dark
pigment, which gives the characteristic colour to
these eyes. This is pointed like the neck of a vase,
and serves the purpose of the iris in the higher
animals. This is traversed by a minute aperture or
pupil, through which the rays pass by a longer
conical lens to the optic nerve. A vertical section
shows that each ocellus (or little eye) is the frustum of
a pyramid, the large end or base of which is bounded
by the cornea, while the other and pointed end
- 86 -
terminates against an expansion of the optic nerve.
The eminent physiologist, Dr. W. B. Carpenter, says,
in describing the minute structure of these organs:
"The interior of this pyramid is occupied by a transparent
substance, which represents the vitreous
humour (of the eyes of vertebrates), and the pyramids
are separated from each other by a layer of dark
pigment, which completely incloses them, save at
the pupillary apertures, and also at a corresponding
set of apertures at their smaller ends, where the
pigment is perforated by the fibres of the optic nerve,
of which one proceeds to each separate eye.
Fig. 26.—Facets of Eye of a Bee.
"Each facet, or 'corneule' of the common cornea, is convex
on both its surfaces, and thus acts as a lens, the focus
of which has been ascertained, by experiment, to be
equivalent to the length of the transparent pyramid
behind it; so that the image produced by the lens
will fall upon the extremity of the filament of the
optic nerve, which passes to its truncated end. The
rays which have passed through the several 'corneules'
are prevented from mixing with each other
by means of the layer of black pigment which surrounds
each cone; and thus, no rays, except those
which correspond with the axis of the cone, can reach
the fibres of the optic nerve. Hence it is evident
that each separate eye must have an extremely
- 87 -
limited range of vision, being adapted to receive but
a very small pencil of rays proceeding from a single
point in any object; and as these eyes are immovable,
they would afford but very imperfect information of
the position of surrounding objects, were it not for
their enormous multiplication, by which a separate eye,
so to speak, is provided for each point to be viewed.
No two of these, save those upon the opposite sides of
the head, which are directed exactly forwards, can form
an image of the same point at the same time; but
the combined action of all of them may give to the
insect, it may be imagined, as distinct a picture as
that we obtain by a very different organisation." We
venture to suggest that another reason for the vast
multiplication of the numbers of "ocelli" is to enable
the insects to see in what would be to us darkness.
Nearly all the operations carried on in the interior of
the hives are done, during the day-time, in very dim
light; and in the night-time, when work is by no
means intermitted, there would, to our eyes, be absolute
darkness. To the bees, however, the scanty
rays received by so many sensitive points may be
sufficient to enable them to see with considerable
clearness. If the simple enlargement of a single
pupil, such as takes place in us on emerging from a
strong into a dim light, makes so great a difference
in our power of vision a fact with which we are
all familiar on going from a well-lighted room into
what seems for the first few seconds complete darkness
we may well believe that the permanent means
of entry into the sensorium of an immense number of
separate rays may give greatly enlarged powers of
seeing scantily illuminated objects.
- 88 -
Still, an opposite view is held by many naturalists,
for it seems very doubtful whether there is any power
in the bee of focusing these eyes, so as to adapt their
range to different distances. The probability is that
no such faculty of adjustment exists in them. We
should expect this from the structure of the visual
apparatus. Yet it seems possible that the compound
eyes act as telescopes, and serve for great range of
vision, but not for near objects. For, while bees dart
homewards from far-off fields with the directness of
an arrow, they will frequently fly against persons or
things in the direct line of their course, without
apparently having seen them at a little distance off.
Moreover, when they have alighted within an inch or
two of the entrance to their hives, they often fail to
perceive its position, and constantly wander to one
side or the other, searching for their way in. We
might conclude, therefore, that these compound eyes
confer distinctness of vision afar, and possibly ability
to use up scanty light, rather than any great discernment
of objects near at hand.
In addition to these "facetted" eyes, bees have,
on the top of the head, three simple ones, called by
some writers "coronets," by others "stemmata."
Their position and arrangement are shown at g in
Fig. 27, p. 98. The focal length of their lens is said
to be short, and they are supplied with numerous
filaments from the optic ganglia. The special
purpose of these simple organs is not well ascertained.
If their focal length is short, this would
seem to imply that their range of vision is also very
limited. But it is very possible they may possess
a focusing power, which would adapt them for seeing
- 89 -
at all distances. Réaumur thinks they may, with their
hemispherical lens, act as microscopes. This point
needs further investigation, as the subject of the uses
of these two kinds of visual apparatus is, at present,
very far from satisfactorily elucidated. One remarkable
fact relating to the "stemmata" must be
mentioned. It is that, if they be covered with a
little opaque paint, the bee, on being let go, will fly
continually upwards. Dr. W. B. Carpenter considers
this curious fact due to automatic movements initiated
by the ganglia connected with flight, uncontrolled
by the visual impressions which the simple eyes
convey in their natural condition. Neither kind of
eye has a lid, but both are protected from dust by
numerous small hairs growing round them, and in
the points of junction of the facets.
How far the eyes of bees enable them to distinguish
colours is still a moot point. On a priori grounds
we should expect that one very definite object in the
hues of flowers is to attract the notice of insects,
just as we have strong reason to believe that odours
exhaled in the vegetable world serve this purpose.
Sir John Lubbock has detailed a series of experiments
on this point, the following summary of which
is abstracted from his work on Ants, Bees, and Wasps.
He says, p. 304: "In recording the results I marked
down successively the order in which the bee went
to the different-coloured glasses (on which honey
was placed). For instance, in the first journey from
the nest, as recorded below, the bee lit first on the
blue, which accordingly I marked I; when the blue
was removed, she flew about a little, and then lit on
the white; when the white was removed she settled
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on the green; and so on successively on the orange,
yellow, plain, and red. I repeated the experiment a
hundred times, using two different hives one in
Kent, and one in Middlesex and spreading the
observations over some time, so as to experiment
with different bees, and under varied circumstances.
Adding the numbers together, it, of course, follows
that the greater the preference shown for each colour,
the lower will be the number standing against it.
"The following table gives the first day's observations
in extenso:—
| Journeys. |
Blue. |
Green. |
Plain
Glass. |
Orange. |
Red. |
White. |
Yellow. |
| 1 |
1 |
3 |
6 |
4 |
7 |
2 |
5 |
| 2 |
5 |
4 |
7 |
6 |
1 |
2 |
3 |
| 3 |
1 |
4 |
7 |
6 |
5 |
3 |
2 |
| 4 |
2 |
4 |
6 |
7 |
5 |
1 |
3 |
| 5 |
1 |
4 |
7 |
2 |
6 |
5 |
3 |
| 6 |
1 |
2 |
3 |
6 |
5 |
4 |
7 |
| 7 |
2 |
1 |
4 |
7 |
3 |
5 |
6 |
| 8 |
3 |
4 |
6 |
2 |
7 |
5 |
1 |
| 9 |
5 |
1 |
7 |
4 |
6 |
3 |
2 |
| 10 |
1 |
6 |
7 |
5 |
3 |
2 |
4 |
| 11 |
4 |
6 |
5 |
2 |
7 |
3 |
1 |
|
26 |
39 |
65 |
51 |
55 |
35 |
37 |
"In the next series of experiments the bees had
been trained for three weeks to come to a particular
spot on a large lawn, by placing from time to time
honey on a piece of plain glass. This naturally
gave the plain glass an advantage; nevertheless, as
will be seen, the blue still retained its pre-eminence.
It seems hardly necessary to give the observations
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in detail. The following table shows the general
result:—
| Series. |
No. of
Exp. |
Blue. |
Green. |
Orange. |
Plain. |
Red. |
White. |
Yellow. |
| 1st. |
|
|
11 |
26 |
39 |
51 |
65 |
55 |
35 |
37 |
| 2nd. |
May |
30 |
15 |
38 |
57 |
59 |
72 |
66 |
58 |
70 |
| 3rd. |
July |
2 |
16 |
44 |
76 |
82 |
73 |
53 |
53 |
67 |
| 4th. |
" |
4 |
15 |
43 |
61 |
64 |
80 |
66 |
50 |
56 |
| 5th. |
" |
5 |
10 |
36 |
47 |
39 |
40 |
40 |
36 |
42 |
| 6th. |
" |
6 |
2 |
2 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
14 |
6 |
7 |
| 7th. |
" |
20 |
11 |
33 |
39 |
50 |
47 |
49 |
41 |
49 |
| 8th. |
" |
23 |
10 |
31 |
46 |
48 |
52 |
37 |
35 |
31 |
| 9th. |
" |
25 |
10 |
22 |
54 |
38 |
52 |
33 |
35 |
46 |
|
100 |
275 |
427 |
440 |
491 |
413 |
349 |
405 |
"The precautions taken seem to me to have placed
the colours on an equal footing; while the number
of experiments appears sufficient to give a fair
average." As this table differs in form from the
other, it may be as well to explain the first line of
figures in illustration of the whole. The first series
consisted of eleven experiments. The preferences
were noted as before, and when the numbers indicating
these were added up, the results were that
twenty-six represented the total for the blue glass,
thirty-nine for the green, fifty-one for the orange,
sixty-five for the plain glass, fifty-five for the red,
thirty-five for the white, and thirty-seven for the
yellow the blue being again manifestly the most
attractive colour to the bees. Some practical bee-keepers
consider the question by no means settled.
The field is doubtless open for further exploration.
- 92 -
The Antennæ. In the front part of the head are two
organs, which appear to supplement, in some remarkable
way, probably by touch-sensations, the power of
vision, and also to possess other capabilities constituting
a sense to which we have nothing strictly
analogous. These organs are called antennæ. They
spring from origins near together, at equal distances
from the medial and anterior point of the head, and
are connected, by distinct and somewhat large filaments,
with the nerve matter forming the cephalic
ganglia. Externally they consist, first, of one segment
nearest the head, much longer than the rest. This
part is called the scape. Then, forming a sort of elbow
with it, is the flagellum, consisting of eleven joints in
queens and workers, and of twelve in the drones.
These segments are tubular, and so attached to each
other as to give the greatest possible freedom of
motion. Their extremities are wonderfully sensitive,
and it is probable that there is a very delicate power
of feeling in each of the joints. For the cleansing
of these organs, special provision is made in the
construction of the fourth and fifth joints of the
most forward pair of legs. At the anterior part of the
tibia, or fourth joint, is a spur, within, and at the
base of, which is a small angular projection, called the
velum or sail. At the base of the next joint, and
opposite the play of this velum, is found a deep notch.
From the fact of its being fringed with hairs, this is
called the curry-comb. Upon this notch the velum
can act at the will of the insect, and, when shut over
one another, they form a circular orifice, just large
enough to take the antennæ. When the latter organ
needs cleansing, it is laid within the notch: the velum
- 93 -
is pressed over it, and being drawn through the round
space, dust and other soilures are removed from its
surface. So particular are the bees about keeping
their antennæ thoroughly clean, that they may often
be observed continuing this operation of drawing
them through the curry-comb till perfectly satisfied
with their condition. Doubtless, the delicate nature
of the impressions to which these organs are susceptible,
supplies the reason for the care taken in
freeing them from all extraneous substances.
The uses served by the antennæ are various and
very remarkable. Their first function seems to be
to supplement vision. Endowed with exceeding
flexibility, they are kept by the insects in constant
motion; and when their eyes fail to guide them to
particular spots, such as the entrance to the hive, or
as to the nature of objects with which they come
into contact, the antennæ appear to supply the
necessary information. There is little doubt that
these "horns" or "feelers," as they are commonly
called, are sensitive, also, to impressions from objects
at some distance. Vibrations of the air too feeble
to affect our organs affect them. It may even be
that other qualities of the atmosphere are apprehended
by them. The shape of the cells; the
suitability of these for brood of various kinds, for
honey or for bee-bread, is ascertained by the antennæ.
Every want and every duty is recognised by them;
the presence or absence of the queen is discovered
by their use, and intelligence is conveyed from one
individual to another by means of them.
Of these facts, Huber has given the following
striking evidence. He divided a stock hive into two
- 94 -
parts by metal network, sufficiently fine to prevent
the passage of the bees, but with meshes wide enough
to allow the antennæ to be passed through. At first,
by a pair of such gratings at a little distance apart,
he separated the two portions, so that no communication
whatever could take place between them.
Very soon that half from which the queen was
excluded showed signs of commotion and distress,
and even began to prepare queen-cells, to supply
themselves with a new sovereign; but when, by the
removal of one grating, Huber allowed the feelers to
be used to convey intelligence between the bees on
opposite sides of the remaining division, he saw
the insects by hundreds making inquiries as to what
had happened. Then the queen was observed on
the grating, and the bees being assured, by crossing
antennæ with her, that their mother was still in the
hive, though shut off from free access to one set of
her subjects, they all quieted down, left off making
the royal cells, and resumed their various avocations.
Huber tried the further experiment of depriving
two queens of their antennæ, and introducing both
into the same hive. The population did not seem
able to recognise their own sovereign from the
stranger, and both were let alone; but, directly he
put in a third queen, unmutilated in these organs,
the workers fell upon her, and slaughtered her.
The antennæless queens lost all purpose, laid eggs
at random, and wandered about the hives as if they
had "lost their heads."
Another very curious fact is, that if a worker is
deprived of her feelers, and then allowed to fly, she
becomes incapable of recognising her hive, even
- 95 -
when near to it, and is hopelessly lost as to her whereabouts.
From this circumstance we are inclined to
conclude that the antennæ are possessed of sensibilities
to which we have nothing strictly analogous—that,
in fact, there resides in them a sense, or senses,
with which mankind is not endowed, one of which
we are disposed to call the "homing-sense."
Numerous observations show that by the antennæ,
also, distinct information can be given. We have
ourselves tried the following experiment in confirmation
of this point. Having placed near the
entrance of a hive a dead humble-bee, we first
noticed one of the sentinels rush to the body, and
with her feelers investigate its nature. Finding it
was a lifeless creature, and one, therefore, simply to
be got rid of, she began to tug at it, to move it
towards the edge of the floor-board. At once
discovering that the weight was too great for her
strength, she went to the entrance, and meeting a
friend, by crossing their feelers, the one was
made aware of the difficulty of the other. The
second then went to the aid of the first; but, as the
body was too great a burden for their united efforts,
the new-comer gave up her attempts to move it, as
if the duty did not concern her much. The first bee,
however, would not be baffled till she had fetched
several other individuals, one at a time, to the
work in hand. But, at length, as she could get no
combined action, and as no two were sufficiently
strong to haul away the large carcase of their distant
relative, she gave up the task in despair, and retired
to the hive in apparent disgust.
On a moonlight night the sentries may be observed
- 96 -
marching eagerly about the entrances of their abodes,
and vigorously moving their antennæ, to ascertain
whether moths, or other unwelcome intruders, are
trying to get inside the hives. The presence of an
enemy being detected, he is soon chased away.
By some naturalists the feelers have been thought
to afford the capacity of smell. It is, however, more
probable that this sense resides in the mouth itself,
or in its immediate neighbourhood.
Whether or not bees appreciate sound, is another
moot point. It is, indeed, doubted by many observers
whether hearing is possessed at all by insects. Sir
John Lubbock records a series of experiments which
he conducted on this point, to which we shall make
reference a little later on. Those writers, who credit
bees with the ability to distinguish sound waves,
incline to the belief that the power resides in the
antennas. As modern science has shown that all
our physical impressions are modifications of vibration,
variously interpreted, according to the means
by which they are conveyed to the sensorium, we
may readily imagine that more than one faculty may
reside in these jointed organs of which we have been
speaking, and that each separate part may possibly
have its own specific function; while, by combined
action, such differences may be made as are analogous
to chords, and harmonies, or discords in music,
as compared with the striking of single notes.
We have dwelt at considerable length on the
subject of the antennæ, not simply because what is
known of them is so remarkable, but because we
wish to draw attention to the fact that there is here
a most interesting field for further investigation.
- 97 -
Much remains to be done to clear up the mysteries
still unsolved, and to harmonise the various observations
already made respecting the nature and properties
of these organs, which, not only in bees, but
in many other families of insects, play such an important
part in their life-history.
The Mouth.—Passing next to the mouth, we find a
somewhat complex structure; for it consists of many
parts, each of which has its ascertained function.
We find first, the labrum, or upper lip; the epipharynx,
or valve closing the aperture of the gullet; the
pharynx, or gullet, forming the true mouth, as well
as the entrance to the Å“sophagus, or food-pipe;
the hypopharynx, lying just below the gullet; the
labium, or lower lip; and the proboscis, or true
tongue. These are all single parts; but there are
also pairs of mandibles, or upper jaws, and maxillæ, or
lower jaws, besides palpi—certain jointed, sensiferous
organs, whose functions are not well understood, but
which are possibly connected with the sensation of
taste.
The labrum, or upper lip, has a vertical motion,
and when not in use falls over the organs beneath it;
while it is covered, in its turn, by the mandibles,
which are jointed on to the cheeks, and act laterally.
The pharynx is a cavity lying beneath the
epipharynx, and can be closed by the latter, over
which the two previously described parts lap, so that
the entrance to the Å“sophagus is trebly protected.
The labium, or lower lip, is capable of being pushed
forward and retracted, and lies, when not in use,
within the under cavity of the head.
On either side are the maxillæ, or so-called jaws,
- 98 -
which form the under sheath of the rest of the
lingual structures when in repose.
Fig. 27.—Head of Bee, With Antennæ.
a. Antennæ.b. Compound eyes. c. Jaws.
d. Maxillae. e. Labial palpi. f. Ligula,
or tongue. g. Stemmata.
The true tongue is attached to the middle point
of the lower lip, having the labial palpi at its sides.
It is much elongated when thrust out in use. While
at rest, the anterior part folds back upon the posterior
portion, when it is covered by the maxillæ, which
seem then like a part of the tongue itself. The back
is much larger than the front. The whole is flattened,
when not sipping liquid. It is then much broader
than its thickness, but its edges are rounded. It
- 99 -
narrows from its base to its extremity, at which there
is a slight inflation, which seems to have a perforation
in its centre, and is surrounded by hairs. The
tongue has also a large number of cartilaginous
rings, each bordered with minute hairs, which appear
to be the means used for sweeping up the last
remains of any fluid which has been almost exhausted.
The act of imbibition is performed, not
so much by suction, as by lapping. Its motions
being free in all directions, it can easily draw liquid
into the mouth on all sides. We notice, however,
that when the supply of food being taken is very
considerable, the segments of the abdomen have a
vibratory motion, or, rather, are alternately lengthened
and shortened, as if fluid were being pumped into
the body. It is, therefore, possible that, under some
circumstances, suction as well as lapping may go on.
Still, it is remarkable that a bee does not insert the
tip of its proboscis into a drop of honey or other
saccharine material, as it would do if it intended to
draw liquid through a tube. It much rather uses the
middle of the upper surface of the tongue, curving
round the point as if not to employ it. If, however,
the honey or syrup be very thick, the fore-part of the
tongue is thrust into it, possibly to dilute the liquid
with saliva, and thus to render it fit for lapping. In
all cases the insect tries to load the upper surface,
whence the fluid passes backward under the sheaths
to the gullet; and we see no reason to believe that the
proboscis constitutes a tube for imbibition. A further
confirmation of this conclusion is given by Shuckard,
who says, "By pressing towards its origin, I have
detected the liquid which gave it its extension; but
- 100 -
all my pressing would never make the liquid pass
through the extremity, although the pressure has
sometimes made it almost rend the membranes to
give it an opening to escape by."
A further use of the tongue is for shaping the
pliant wax in comb-building; and it appears to be
employed much as a trowel is by a bricklayer, or,
perhaps, we should rather say, like a finger by a
moulder of plaster of Paris.
As we have mentioned, the jaws open vertically;
but the mandibles and maxillæ work horizontally.
They are thus enabled to seize and tightly hold any
object they can grasp. The mandibles of the drone
and the queen have two notches or teeth. Those
of workers are not thus furnished, probably because,
for shaping and smoothing the cells, an unbroken
edge is much more convenient than a notched one.
These organs are, however, very strong, and enable
their possessor to grasp enemies, drones or queens;
to nibble hard kinds of food; to break away pieces
of damaged comb; and to mould wax for building
purposes. In the last of these operations they are,
doubtless, aided by the shear-like maxillæ.
- 101 -
CHAPTER XII.
HEARING, TASTE, AND SMELLING.
Hearing—Sir John Lubbock's Experiments—Sounds uttered by
Queen—Effects produced by them—Smell-Organs—Purposes—Liking
for, and Antipathy to, certain Effluvia—Discovery
by Bees of Nectar and Honey
With regard to the sense of hearing, Sir John
Lubbock says: "The result of my experiments on
the hearing of bees has surprised me very much.
It is generally considered that, to a certain extent,
the emotions of bees are expressed by the sounds
they make, which seems to imply that they possess
the power of hearing. I do not by any means intend
to deny that this is the case. Nevertheless, I never
found them take any notice of any noise which I
made, even when it was close to them. I tried one
of my bees with a violin. I made all the noise I
could, but, to my surprise, she took no notice. I
could not even see a twitch of the antennæ. The
next day I tried the same with another bee, but
could not see the slightest sign that she was conscious
of the noise. On August 31st I repeated the
experiment with another bee, with the same result.
On September 12th and 13th I tried several bees with
a dog-whistle and a shrill pipe, but they took no notice
- 102 -
whatever; nor did a set of tuning-forks, which I tried
on a subsequent day, have any more effect. These
tuning-forks extended over three octaves, beginning
with A below the ledger-line. I also tried with my
voice, shouting, &c., close to the head of a bee;
but, in spite of my utmost efforts, the bees took no
notice. I repeated these experiments at night, when
the bees were quiet; but no noise that I could make
seemed to disturb them in the least. In this respect
the results of my observations on bees entirely
agreed with those on ants."
These experiments do not appear by any means
conclusive. It may well be that sounds which are
merely loud or shrill would pass unnoticed by the
insects, as conveying no meaning to them. In like
manner, a clap of thunder, the firing of a cannon or
gun, the playing of a brass band, will produce no
manifest effect upon them; but, if the queen utters,
as she sometimes does, a peculiar sound, an instantaneous
and very remarkable recognition of it takes
place. The sound referred to is usually heard at the
time when the young princesses are ready to emerge
from the cells in which they have been developed.
When thus emitted by the young queens, no attention
appears to be paid to it by the workers, who, however,
restrain the mother-queen from destroying her royal
daughters. But, when these are released from their
natal captivity, and the queen, standing with her
thorax against a comb, makes, with her wings crossed
over her back and in rapid vibration, a certain sound,
it receives immediate attention. Huber tells us that
bees which had been plucking at, biting, and chasing
the queen, hung down their heads when this
- 103 -
peculiar noise was uttered, and remained altogether
motionless; and whenever she had recourse to this
assertion of authority, the same effects followed.
Again, unless observers are fanciful in their interpretation
of the sounds to be heard at various times
in a hive, we must conclude that certain feelings,
such as those of anger, grief, consternation, satisfaction,
joy, &c., are expressed in distinct tones. If
this is the case, we can only conclude that, difficult
as it may be to localise the organ of hearing, such
an organ must exist. Nor, in all probability, shall
we be mistaken in assigning its position to the
antennæ; for recent investigations into the anatomy
of these organs in ants,[3] lend much support to the
theory that an auditory apparatus is situated in them.
Taste.—Next as to taste. We have already
spoken of the close connection between this sense
and the preceding; but, whatever doubt may be entertained
as to the possession of the former, there can
be none as to the latter. Huber, indeed, from the
fact that bees are often seen lapping stable-liquid and
sewage, thought the sense of taste could exist in them
to only a very small degree. It must be remembered,
however, that, like many other creatures, they are
fond of certain salts, and to this, no doubt, may be
ascribed their visits to the above-mentioned liquids.
On a priori grounds we should conclude that the
possession of this faculty was most important, for the
detection of nectar suitable and unsuitable for the
purposes of the hive. Moreover, we find a marked
preference shown for flowers which produce the best
honey; and the eagerness with which they will lap up
- 104 -
any thoroughly sweet liquid confirms the idea that
they taste very readily.
Smell. Probably of all the senses of bees none
is so acute as that of the perception of odours. Not
only do they distinguish the citizens of their own
hive from those of other communities; not only do
they discriminate between the fragrance of various
flowers; not only can they detect the aroma of honey
concealed from their sight, though not from their
olfactory nerves, but they show a marked antipathy
to certain human individuals, which can only be
accounted for by supposing that from these persons
proceeds an effluvium disagreeable to the bees, though
not perceptible by, or unpleasant to, man.
A remarkable anecdote in confirmation of this well-known
fact is given by Bevan, on the authority of
M. de Hofer, Councillor of State to the Grand Duke
of Baden. This gentleman's father had for years
kept bees, and had devoted much personal attention
to them. He had, indeed, attained such familiarity
with them, and such skill in their manipulation, that
he could, without fear of being stung, search for and
find the queen, and take her in his fingers. Unfortunately,
he fell ill with a severe fever, which kept
him for a long time a prisoner to his house. After
his convalescence he visited his bees, returning to
them with his old confidence and pleasure. Greatly
to his surprise and dismay, he found their feelings
towards him entirely changed. They would no
longer allow him to approach the hives, much less
to perform any of his former manipulations; and
that this was not the effect of a change of the population,
through the natural perishing of the workers,
- 105 -
but was due to some alteration in him, was shown by
the fact that he was never again able to resume his
old familiarity with his favourites. Some change in
his blood, brought about by the fever, made the
emanations from his skin permanently offensive to
the bees, though no such difference was perceptible
to any of his human friends.
M. Feburier and other observers assert that a
certain antipathy is manifested towards persons with
red or black hair. We have reason to doubt the
correctness of their opinion as to the latter class,
and we more strongly incline to think that fair-complexioned
people are less agreeable to bees than
those who are darker. As a corroboration of this,
we may mention the case of two brothers, one of
whom could always approach the hives with impunity,
while the other could not come near them without
danger of being stung. Though both of them were
dark, the obnoxious one was decidedly the fairer.
A further evidence of their sense of smell is the
anger they manifest on the crushing of one of their
number. Like the terror inspired into an ox by the
smell of freshly-drawn blood in the slaughter-house,
is the odour of a bruised comrade to bees. Again,
the smell of the liquid from one of their poison bags
excites them strongly. A wound just made by a
sting rouses others to inflict more wounds; and, if the
fluid be presented to them at the entrance of their
homes, it at once stirs their fury. If, however, it be
allowed to crystallise, and thus to become incapable
of emitting any odour, it will be quite disregarded by
the bees. Sir John Lubbock tried various experiments
with eau-de-Cologne and rose-water, and found
- 106 -
that, till the insects had become habituated by
frequent use to these liquids, they always came out
to the entrance, to ascertain the meaning of the
odours which had penetrated into the hives. It is
well known, also, that they dislike the smell of paint
so much, that it is not advisable to place a swarm in
a freshly painted box, lest they should forsake it, from
its unpleasant odour.
We may well conclude that it is owing to the
keenness of this sense that they perceive the presence
of flowers containing nectar; and, guided by
it, they wing their flight to distant fields where the
white clover attracts them, or to more barren districts
where the heath promises them abundant pasturage.
It is very certain that the fragrant aroma of honey
is at once perceived by them at many feet from their
dwellings; and in taking their sweets from them it is,
for this reason, necessary to avoid all exposure of
broken combs, or the dripping of their contents.
Great trouble is, in fact, often occasioned by the
readiness with which they thus detect the presence
of their own produce. Within our personal knowledge,
at a provincial show of bees, hives, and honey,
the fragrance of the liquid attracted bees from the
neighbourhood in such immense numbers that they
carried off, during one afternoon, some seventy pounds
of honey from the tent in which it was being exhibited.
The position of the organ of smell is not clearly
ascertained. By some, as we have said, the antennæ
have been credited with the power; but,
though many observations may seem to favour this
opinion, we must remember that we have on record
some striking facts, which would seem, at least, to
- 107 -
show that powerful odours are able to be recognised
by other portions of the body. Lehmann and
Cuvier came to the conclusion that the spiracles, connected
with the respiration of bees, are the means by
which the sense of smell is exercised. The idea was
based on the notion that odours can only be perceived
by the inhalation of air. This, of course, is
not a sufficient ground for the inference arrived at.
Kirby and Spence, again, inclined, as we have already
mentioned, to the belief that the organ of smell lay
in or near the mouth. This supposition was partly
founded on the close relation between taste and
smell. Huber's experiments lent some confirmation
to this theory. He presented a camel's-hair brush
with a little oil of turpentine on its tip to every
part successively of the abdomen, trunk, and head,
without producing any discomfort to the bee. He
then tried the eyes and antennæ, without any apparent
effect; but, as soon as he directed it a little
above the insertion of the proboscis and close to the
mouth, immediate signs of annoyance showed themselves.
This experiment, repeated with other strongly-smelling
liquids, gave similar results; but, when the
mouths of the insects experimented upon were
stopped with paste, the perception of odours appeared
no longer to exist.
For the present, then, the matter remains in doubt;
but we may suggest to our readers that observations
on this point, carefully and patiently conducted, may
lead to much useful information being obtained.
It is impossible to pass from an examination and
description of the head-apparatus of the bee, without
being struck with the marvellous beauty, and equally
- 108 -
wonderful adaptation, of each of its parts to the varied
functions required of them. Whether observed by the
unassisted eye, or by a lens of low or high power, we
cannot fail to see how exquisitely each minutest
portion is fashioned; how remarkably the various
organs are protected according to their delicacy;
how supplied with nerve-fibre in proportion to the
sensitiveness required in them; how supplementary
one to another in their diverse duties; how harmonious
in their working; and how fitted as a whole
to the wants and the instincts of the insects to which
they belong. Nor, as it seems to us, is it possible to
believe that any force of evolution, unguided by
a distinctly controlling and Divine creative power,
could ever have elaborated organs so precisely what
might have been expected to result from the exercise
of infinite wisdom and manifest purpose.
- 109 -
CHAPTER XIII.
THE THORAX.
Detailed Description—Legs—Wings—How used in Flight—Hooking
together—Employed for Ventilating.
The thorax of the bee is divided into three sections,
or imperfect rings. Of these, that nearest the
head is called the pro-thorax, the middle one the
meso-thorax, and the hindmost the meta-thorax. To
the first of these are attached the most forward pair
of legs; to the second, another pair of legs and one
pair of wings; to the third, the last pair of legs and
the other pair of wings. These organs of locomotion
constitute, in fact, all that is worthy of special
interest in this segment of the body, and we will,
therefore, give a short account of them.
The legs of all insects consist of five parts, or
joints, and in the case of the bee they are not only
the means of walking or crawling, but, like some of
the head organs of which we have spoken, serve
several purposes. The first of the leg-segments is
called the coxa, or hip, and is short and round,
appearing, indeed, to be little more than the joint
by which the limb is articulated to the body. The
second is named the trochanter, and is very similar
- 110 -
to the coxa. One purpose effected by these two
portions is to give great freedom of motion to the
whole member. Next comes the femur, or thigh, a
longer and flatter division. This is followed by the
tibia, or shank, a stouter and thicker division, which,
especially in the hind-legs, becomes gradually wider
downwards, and in the workers is adapted to a very
special use, as we shall directly see. Then in succession
we have the tarsus, or foot, consisting of five
joints, the first very much stouter than the rest, and
as long as the remaining four. It is terminated by a
pair of hooked claws, with a cushion or pulvillus.
|
|
|
|
|
Fig. 28.—Lower Segments of Hind-Leg
of Bee, Considerably Enlarged.
|
|
Fig. 29.—Complete Hind-leg
Of Bee.
|
We have already spoken of the remarkable apparatus
found in the in the hind legs, adapted to
- 111 -
the purpose of cleansing the antennæ. At the junction
of the fourth and fifth segments (the tibia and the
tarsus) of the hind leg of a worker a cavity is formed
by the uppermost edge of the latter and the lower
of the former. The cavity can be opened or closed
at the will of the insect. Above this, on the outside of
the tibia, is a pocket, or pollen-basket,
lined along its upper edge with a row of
lancet-shaped hairs, which aid in detaining the tiny
balls of pollen, as they are successively deposited on
the leg. Like a series of prong-tines, they can be
pressed into the yielding bee-bread, and keep it from
falling off; while, as they point downwards, they
present no obstacle to the brushing off of the whole
mass by the bee, on its return to the hive. The
slight hollowing of the tibia and the tarsus at the
approximating ends, affords more space for the
gathered pollen, and also assists in its safe carriage
to the cells.
The last joint of the tarsus is armed with a pair of
double claws, and between them lies a hollow cup-shaped
cushion, somewhat like that which enables
the house-fly to walk on glass or other very smooth
surfaces, only that the pulvillus of the fly is double.
The edge of the cup is fringed with ciliæ, or very
minute hairs, of such delicacy that a powerful lens
is required to see them. Under the microscope, the
object is one of great interest.
The claws serve for hanging from the roof or sides
of hives, and for clinging to each other at swarming
or wax-making times, the cushion for walking on
smooth surfaces. It is worthy of remark that all the
joints of the legs are covered with hairs more or less
stiff, and all pointing downwards. Their uses are to
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collect pollen, and to act as brushes and combs to all
the external parts of the body, which need constant
cleansing from flower-dust, and other matters less
useful to the bee.
Fig. 30.—Wing of Bee.
Passing now to the wings, new marvels and beauties
await our observation. These organs are four in
number, the forward pair being considerably larger
than the hinder. Each wing consists of a double
membrane, dotted all over with fine hairs, whose
purposes are to protect the delicate structure from
wet, and from particles of various kinds which
would adhere to it, and injure its surface. As a
support for this expanded tissue, there is a ramification
of stronger material, constituting nervures, and
acting like the ribs of an umbrella. With these are
associated air-vessels, or tracheæ, for the circulation
of air, and, possibly, to assist in giving buoyancy to
the organ. By another set of tubes a portion of
the nutritive fluid is conveyed to certain parts of the
wing, though no general circulation seems to take
place in it. The substance of which the expanded
portion, as well as the nervures, is composed, is
very tough, and, as our readers may remember, the
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natural order to which the bees are assigned is named
Hymenoptera, from the strongly membranous wings
they possess.
We can readily understand the importance to these
insects of having their organs of flight powerful, and
yet not weighty, tough without being clumsy. Considering
the length of their daily journeys, and the
constant and rapid movements they require to make,
we easily discern how well suited to their needs is
the structure of their wings. But we must call
attention to a remarkable provision for the further
utility of these organs. Under a lens of medium
power may be seen, along the anterior edges of the
hind wings, a series of booklets of hair, while on the
posterior edge of the front wings is a rib, or bar,
which the booklets can grasp. By this means the
two wings, when used for flight, become practically
one, thus presenting unbroken resistance to the air,
and, in consequence, greatly increasing the power
of propelling the body. When at rest, the unhooking
of the edges enables the wings to be folded out
of the way—no mean advantage in the crowded
hive.
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Fig. 31.—Hooklets of a Bee's Wing.
But there is a further benefit thus conferred on the
insect. During hot weather, and when the population
is very dense, ventilation is constantly and vigorously
carried on by the workers, who, fixing themselves
firmly by their claws to the floor-board at the entrance,
some outside and some just within their homes, direct
numerous currents of air into the hive. Of course
there must issue a quantity corresponding to what
is driven in, and thus a perpetual and free circulation
is kept up. Now, if the wings worked independently,
not only would a smaller quantity of air be affected
by each stroke, but the two sets of motions would, to
some extent, counteract each other. As it is, the
hooked wings act like well-constructed and well-used
fans. By the simple experiment of slitting such an
implement down the middle, the comparative advantages
of a broken and an unbroken surface, for
fanning purposes, can easily be put to the proof.
Thus, again, we are struck with the fact that the
more closely we examine the organs of any segment
of the body of the insect, the more reason do we find
to admire the skill, and the care for His creatures,
manifested by the infinitely wise and the infinitely
good Maker of them all. Beauty, adaptation, perfection,
are the words which are continually suggested
to our minds by the contemplation of the structure
of the bee.
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CHAPTER XIV.
THE ABDOMEN.
Respiratory Organs—Circulation of Nutritive Fluid—Digestion
and Nutrition—Secretion of Wax—Reproductive Organs—Detailed
description of Sting—Effects of Poison—Queen's Sting.
The abdomen constitutes the largest and hindmost
segment of the body, and is important as containing
several structures which have most essential functions
in the economy of the insect. Among these are the
chief parts of the respiratory apparatus, the digestive,
the wax-making, the reproductive, and stinging
organs.
First, it must be noted that the bee has nothing
strictly analogous to our lungs, heart, liver, and other
structures making up a true circulating-system. At
the same time there is a real oxygenation of the
fluids of the body, with a consequent evolution of
heat, water, and carbonic acid gas.
The breathing apparatus has not its aperture for
inspiration and expiration situated in the head, as is
the case in the higher animals; but air is admitted
and expelled through apertures along both sides of
the body. In the thorax are two pairs of such
openings, and there is a pair on each ring of the
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abdomen. These air-holes are called spiracles, or
stigmata, and lead into two minute chambers, one
behind the other, the outer being provided with a
number of short hairs, to prevent the entry of
foreign particles likely to obstruct the important
passages.
Fig. 32.—Abdomen of Bee, Showing Respiratory Organs.
a, Air-sac. b b b, Spiracles.
From these vestibules the air is conducted by
tubes, or tracheæ, into sacs or bladders communicating
with each other. The largest pair of these
cavities is found in the abdomen, and from these two
main trunks lead, one into the thorax, and the
other to the termination of the abdomen. From the
latter there branch out subsidiary tubes, leading into
the minuter chambers, called sacculi, or little sacs.
Those going upwards do not subdivide till they
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reach the head, in which are found two air-chambers
of considerable size. Reasons for this distribution of
the secreting vessels may be found, on the one hand,
in the need of the oxygenation of the tissues,
especially those connected with the nutrition of the
ganglia of highest functions; and, on the other, in
the requirements of buoyancy in the segments
relatively the heaviest, and destitute of organs of
support in the atmosphere, such as the wings furnish.
A confirmation of the second of these purposes is
derived from the remarkable fact, that in the queen
bee, who does not fly more than once or twice in her
life, the great air-sacs of the abdomen are almost
obliterated, their space being needed for the large
ovaries.
Fig. 33.—Air-sacs of Worker.
The structure of the tracheæ is very remarkable.
Under a powerful microscope they are seen to consist
of a double membrane, between the two coats of
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which are coils of an elastic thread, which act like the
spiral wire frequently used for keeping open and
strengthening india-rubber tubing. By means of this
structure the air-pipes are maintained in a condition
for the free passage of the atmosphere, and if closed
by pressure, the elastic fibre reopens them directly
the pressure is removed.
Fig. 34.—a, Air-sacs,
b, Ovaries, of the Queen.
With regard to the circulation of the nutritive
fluid in the system, considerable obscurity prevails.
What is known is, that along the back of the insect
runs a vessel called, from its position, the dorsal
vessel, attached to the outer covering of the body by
bands of ligamentous tissue. The portion of this
tube contained in the abdomen is enlarged at
intervals into chambers communicating with each
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other by valves, which allow the fluid to go forward
to the head, but not back towards the other extremity.
Passing by a simple elastic tube through the
thorax, the blood, if we may so call it, is propelled to
the anterior segment of the body. Its subsequent
course is not very clear; for, while some anatomists
speak of a small vessel leading back to the hinder part
of the body, others consider that the sanguineous, or
nutritive, liquid finds its way from the cephalic parts
to other vital organs, and after bathing them, returns
to the dorsal vessel by a second set of valves permitting
its ingress only.
Fig. 35.—a, Tracheæ;
b, Elastic Spiral of Tracheæ.
Turning next to the nutritive organs, we have
already spoken at sufficient length of the mouth and
its appendages, and have mentioned that the nectar
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of flowers is conveyed first to an enlargement of the
gullet, analogous to the crop of birds. From this,
some is regurgitated by the workers into the cells, for
storage, while another portion passes on to the true
stomach.[4] A certain amount of nitrogenous food,
chiefly pollen, also finds its way to this cavity, and
there undergoes a second mastication by the so-called
gastric teeth. These consist of silica, and are
therefore very hard.
After undergoing considerable digestion in the
stomach, the chyle, as we may now consider it, passes
into a short intestine, where it receives fluid from the
so-called "biliary ducts." Further on is an expansion,
called the colon, after traversing which the
portions of food not absorbed into the system, together
with the waste products brought to the
intestines, are expelled from the body. It is probable
that the nutritive parts of the aliment find their
way through the walls of the intestine, and mingling
with the sanguineous liquid returned from the
cephalic extremity, pass with it into the dorsal vessel.
Closely connected with the digestive apparatus is
that which is concerned in the making of wax. By
pressing the abdomen of the bee, so as to cause its
extension, there can be seen, on the under side of the
four medial ventral segments, two trapeziform whitish
pockets, one on either side of the carinæ, or elevated
central part. These are of a membranous texture,
and are covered with a reticulation of hexagonal
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meshes, reminding one of the inner coat of the
second stomach of the sheep, and other ruminating
animals. There is no direct communication between
the stomach and these pockets; but Hunter suggested
that the secreting surface is in the membrane just
alluded to.
Fig. 36.—Under Side of Abdomen, Showing Wax Scales.
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Fig. 38.—Scales.
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Fig. 37.—Bee, Showing the Wax Scales.
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We cannot follow the process by which
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the change from honey to wax is effected, any more
than we can account for the elaboration of bile,
saliva, and the pancreatic liquid, from our blood by
the different organs connected with their production.
All we can say is, that the membrane of the wax-receptacles
is endowed with the peculiar power of
transforming the nectar of flowers into an oil. The
actual chemical change may be stated in general
terms thus: Honey and sugar contain, roughly
speaking, equal chemical equivalents of oxygen,
carbon, and hydrogen. In wax, the quantities of the
first of these elements is diminished to about an
eighth part, while the carbon and hydrogen are more
than quadrupled. In other words, the saccharine
material suffers very great de-oxidation in passing
into the condition of wax.
The wax-oil, when it has filled the pocket in which
it is secreted, passes out of the body of the insect in
laminæ or scales, which take the shape of the bags in
which they have been produced. In contact with the
air, the wax absorbs a small quantity of oxygen, and
loses an equal amount of carbon. When about to be
used by the bee, it is picked off the under segments
of the body by the hind-legs, passed on to the fore-feet,
and by them is conveyed to the mouth, where,
by being mixed with saliva and well kneaded, it is
rendered pliant, ductile, and more tenacious.
The reproductive organs of the queen consist, first,
of two large bags, one on each side of the abdomen,
and called ovaries, in which the eggs are generated.
When mature, these eggs pass by a tube from each
ovary to a common duct, on one side of which is
found a small yellow vesicle, called the spermatheca.
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On examination under the microscope, this is found
to be filled with a viscous fluid, in which, with a lens
of high power, may be seen moving thousands of
spermatozoa derived from the drone.
Fig. 39.—Ovaries and Spermatheca of Queen.
By voluntary effort on the part of the queen, each egg, as it passes
this vesicle, may be touched with a most minute drop
of the fluid just mentioned. Then this very marvellous
fact results. An egg thus fertilised develops
into a queen or a worker, according to the conditions
under which it is hatched; while those eggs which
are not brought in their passage into contact with
the fluid, and receive no spermatozoa, become
drones. Herein lies the explanation of fertile
workers giving birth to drones only, and of queens,
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hatched after the drones of a season are dead, also
laying eggs which will develop only into male bees.
We are absolutely unable to account for these most
extraordinary circumstances, which open up interesting
fields for future investigation. Not the
least wonderful point is the exercise of will, on the
part of the queen, in the production of the particular
kind of egg which, without making mistakes, she lays
in the cells specially provided for the three classes of
her offspring.
The last of the abdominal organs we have now to
describe, is one which is not essential to the life of
the individual, but has been conferred by the Creator
as a means of offence and defence, viz., the sting.
Those who have frequently felt its effects have no
need to be told how formidable a weapon it is; but
few probably are fully acquainted with the structures
which give it such potent force. If a bee be irritated,
and made to thrust out its sting, we observe a dark
brown and sharply-pointed dart. This, when magnified,
is seen to be the sheath, in which the true sting
lies and is moved. The sheath is divided down the
centre, and between the two parts the real piercers
work, though the sheath itself is thrust into the
wound. It consists of two horny scales, smooth and
closely adherent to the true darts. These last are
stiff filaments, barbed along their outer edge. They
are not quite equal in length, so that the teeth of the
one do not lie exactly opposite those of the other.
They work side by side, and, possibly with alternate
motion, pierce deeper and deeper into the punctured
material. The teeth give a firm hold to the imbedded
weapon, and prevent its easy withdrawal. In fact,
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when plunged into human flesh, or into thick leather
gloves, these barbs hold so tightly that the insect is
unable to free itself, and if forcibly detached, or if by
a vigorous effort it escapes, the sting is left behind,
and frequently attached to it are portions of the
viscera. The bee thus loses its life, and the injury
it inflicts is the more severe.
Fig. 40.—Sting of a Bee, greatly magnified.
The mere puncture of
the weapon, however, would be a quite unimportant
matter, were it not that, connected with the groove
in which the dart works, is a short tube leading from
a bag containing a liquid of the most acrid and
poisonous nature. By powerful muscles, attached to
the upper part of the sting, the barbs are thrust out;
the sheath follows them into the pierced substance,
and then, by the pressure of other muscles, a drop of
the poison-liquid runs down into the wound, and
immediately sets up a violent pain and inflammation
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of the surrounding parts. So powerful is the action
of the irritant, that numerous cases are on record of
death ensuing through its influence. We are, however,
bound to say that, by many authorities, such
fatal consequences are considered to result from
syncope produced by fright, rather than from the
direct effect of the poison on the nervous system.
Still, there is no doubt of the very formidable nature
of the liquid, as may be generally seen in the amount
of swelling and discomfort caused by the exceedingly
minute portion injected by the sting of a
bee.
Fig. 41.—Barbs of a Bee's Sting, very highly magnified.
The most remarkable function of the sting-apparatus
has, in modern times, been discovered to be the insertion of
a minute drop of the poison in each honey-cell when filled.
This acts as an anti-septic, and prevents fermentation in
the sweet liquid.
The poison is secreted by tiny glands, from which
it is conveyed, by tubes or ducts, into the reservoir,
where it is stored ready for use. Chemically, the
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liquid is said to have an acid reaction. Hence the
application of ammonia, and other alkaline solutions,
will most effectually counteract its effects.
The sting of the queen differs from that of the
worker, in having its barbs curved, instead of straight.
This modification makes it a much less formidable implement.
Moreover, it is very seldom employed. It
is, indeed, almost impossible to make a queen sting
the hand, even by great provocation. Almost the
only circumstances in which her majesty employs
the weapon are, first, for mortal combat with a rival,
and second, for murdering, if permitted by the
workers, the princesses before they emerge from the
cells in which they have developed.
The drone is without a sting, and, indeed, seems
never to show fight at all. Its jaws might furnish no
despicable weapons, but the insect seems to lack
spirit to use them, even in self-defence, and when
attacked by the mandibles only of the workers,
manifests no inclination to employ its own against
its tormentors. Struggles to escape, and haste to
flee, seem to betray its absence of courage; though,
possibly, an instinctive knowledge that its assailants
have in reserve a more deadly piece of armour than
strong jaws may make "discretion the better part
of valour."
With regard to the sting of the bee, Paley aptly
remarks that it "affords a beautiful example of the
union of chemistry and mechanism: of chemistry in
respect to the venom, which, in so small a quantity,
can produce such powerful effects; of mechanism, as
the sting is not a simple but a compound instrument.
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The machinery would have been useless, had it not
been for the chemical process, by which, in the insect's
body, honey is converted into poison; and, on the
other hand, the poison would have been ineffectual
without an instrument to wound, and a syringe to
inject the fluid."
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CHAPTER XV.
THE DISEASES OF BEES.
Dysentery: How Produced—Indications—Treatment. Foul-Brood:
two kinds—Nature—Propagation. Mr. Cheshire's
Discoveries and Treatment—Fatal Effects of Disease—Detection—Vertigo—Analogy
of Human and Bee Diseases.
How far the diseases of domesticated animals are
due to the conditions to which they are subjected by
man, and which are always, to some extent, contrary
to the natural mode of life of the creatures, we are
at present unable to say. We can, however, point
with some certainty to cases in which birds and
quadrupeds, which are made subservient to our needs
or our convenience, suffer in consequence of our
treatment. In some degree, this is true with regard
to bees. In a wild state their habitations may,
indeed, expose them to risks they do not run in
hives, but these artificial dwellings, on the other
hand, tend to the development, or the extension of,
at least two maladies to which their occupants are
subject. These are the deadly evils of dysentery
and so-called "foul-brood."
Dysentery has been known in apiaries from the
time of Columella, in the first century of our era,
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who attributed it to the effect of food derived by the
bees from the elm and the spurge. Other more
recent writers have ascribed it to over-indulgence in
spring-honey, wheresoever derived: others, again, to
the consumption of stores which had candied in the
cells during the winter. More recent investigations
show that there are several means by which this
trouble may be generated. In the first place, ineffective
ventilation, by permitting the condensation
of moisture on the combs, and its admixture with
the food stores, is a prolific source of the mischief.
During the winter, the low temperature is constantly
reducing to a watery condition the aqueous vapour
given off by respiration. This vapour, like our own
perspiration, contains matter derived from impurities
in the circulating fluid, and is the natural vehicle for
their removal. If, then, such moisture again enters
the body of the bee, it is simply a poison, whose
effects become manifest by producing diarrhœa,
distension of the abdomen, and more or less speedy
death.
Again, if the stocks be supplied in the late autumn
with syrup too watery for the bees to seal over in the
cells, contact with air sets up a chemical change, and
a certain amount of acid is generated, which makes
the honey most prejudicial to the health of the
stock, by deranging their digestive functions.
Thirdly, if during the winter time, when the insects
are closely confined to their dwellings by the weather,
and when they are, under ordinary conditions, very
quiescent, they be disturbed and excited, they are apt
to gorge themselves with food; and having no natural
means of working off the extra quantity they have
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taken, the system is overloaded, and the stomach and
intestines suffer from the too great burden thrown
on them.
The occurrence of this malady is indicated by the
altered appearance and odour of the excrement,
which, instead of being reddish yellow, becomes of
a muddy black colour, and has an intolerably foul
smell. It is, moreover, deposited by the weakened
insects, contrary to their cleanly habits, on the combs,
the inner walls of the hives, on the floor-board, and
at the entrance of their dwellings.
The avoidance of the causes of the generation of
the disease is a comparatively easy matter. The
means of cure are, first, the removal of the reasons
for its occurrence, and, secondly, the immediate and
thorough cleansing of all parts of a hive soiled by
the sick bees. It is still better, if possible, to remove
the stock into a perfectly fresh dwelling; and it is
advisable to take away all combs with unsealed
honey, and substitute sealed stores, or to feed the
bees with barley-sugar.
"Foul-brood" is a much more formidable malady,
and is often encountered. It is, indeed, a terror to
apiarians, for not only is it very fatal to any stock in
which it appears, but, from its ready contagiousness,
it may depopulate any number of previously healthy
communities, and may extend from one apiary to
several others in the neighbourhood.
As the name implies, it has been thought to be a
disease of the larvæ, and there are said to be two
kinds, called respectively the dry and the wet. The
former of these is much less serious, and is not
contagious. The young merely die in their cells;
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their bodies desiccate, and there is an end of the
matter. In the other variety, the brood remains
dark and shiny in the hatching-places, and emits a
most offensive odour, perceptible at some distance
from the hive. When the mischief is very great,
combs are sometimes removed which are masses of
corruption and fœtor.
Microscopical investigations led to the belief that
the source of this dire pest was a microbe, allied to
micrococcus. If the germs of this lowly organism
find a lodgment on the tender skin of a larva, they
propagate with immense rapidity, and cause the
death of the young insect. Then, wafted about the
hive by the currents produced in ventilation, they
pass from one part to another; or, attaching themselves
to the bodies of adult bees, they are carried
from cell to cell, and each of these thus infected, in
its turn, becomes a new centre of deadly plague.
Dr. Schönfeld in Germany made a series of interesting
experiments, which he considered conclusive
on the question of the origin and spread of this
disease. From a small piece of foul-brood he propagated,
by suitable means, large quantities of the
fatal so-called micrococcus, and with it he was able to
infect a healthy stock. He, moreover, established the
fact that the dried germs float readily in the air.
Placing some of the foul-brood in a bell-glass, in
which he inserted lightly a plug of cotton-wool, he
caused a gentle atmospheric current to pass into the
glass, and out by the tube. Then, moistening the
cotton-wool with water, and putting some of the
liquid under a microscope, he detected what he
concluded to be numerous spores.
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This circumstance throws a light on the contamination
of the different hives in an apiary, through one
that has become infected; as, no doubt, during the
process of ventilation, many germs of the disease find
their way out of the entrances. It is probable that
robber-bees are also very frequently the carriers of
contagion. Taking advantage of the dwindling down
of a stock suffering from the disease, these plunderers
pilfer the honey, and, in so doing, receive on their
bodies the fatal seeds of the malady, which they
then carry to their own stocks. In this way the
existence of the pest in one community may become
the cause of its extension throughout a neighbourhood.
It is, therefore, of the utmost importance that
the signs of the appearance of the evil should be
constantly watched, and very stringent measures
applied whenever its existence is ascertained.
Until quite lately it was thought that no means of
cure, strictly so called, existed. The germs are so
minute, and are capable of such diffusion and adherence
in a hive, that half-measures proved, as usual, of
no avail. The removal of the combs and bees to a
fresh hive, and thoroughly sprinkling them with salicilic
acid and water, has been recommended as a remedial
course; but bee-keepers found that nothing short of
the complete destruction of the infected community
was likely to be really effective, and the first loss, in
such a case, might save the entire destruction of all
the stocks in the apiary. The very honey stored in
the combs had to be sacrificed also; for in it the
dangerous germs settle, and being used by the nurse-bees
for feeding the larvæ, become the continued, and
possibly unsuspected, source of mischief to any hive
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to which it is imparted. If the disease appeared in
a straw skep, it was considered desirable to destroy
it with fire. If it found its way into a bar-frame
hive, every frame, every portion, even every crevice,
must be treated. Thorough boiling in a copper has
been found helpful in eradicating the mischief, but
could not alone be relied upon. A strong mixture
of chloride of lime and water, or of salicilic acid and
water, applied carefully to every part, has been found
more effective. The important facts to be remembered
are that, owing to the extreme minuteness of
the germs, their multitudes, and their great vitality,
it is very easy for some to escape destruction, and
to become the sources of future mischief, unless the
most radical methods of destruction are applied
to them.
A new light has, however, just been thrown on this
important subject by Mr. Frank Cheshire, of Acton,
who has done so much good work in the anatomy of
bees, and in their practical management. He has
now satisfied himself, by long-continued and careful
microscopic investigation, that the origin of foul-brood
is a bacillus, not a micrococcus,[5] and that the
disease extends to all the inmates of the hive. But
what is of far greater moment to apiarians is, that
Mr. Cheshire claims to have discovered a means of
completely curing the dire plague. This consists in
the administration of phenol, which is one of the
components of carbolic acid. Syrup is made with
3 lbs. of loaf-sugar to a quart of water, and to this is
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added 1/500 part of pure phenol. By removing the
stored honey, and pouring the syrup into cells around
the infected parts of combs containing foul-brood, the
bees are induced to consume the medicated food.
The "nurses" supply it also to the larvæ, and the
result is, that not only is the progress of the disease
stopped, but renewed courage and hope are infused
into the community, who remove the dead larvæ,
clear out the polluted cells, and bring about an entire
renewal of healthy conditions. Should further facts
prove all that Mr. Cheshire expects, he will be regarded
by apiarians in future with as much admiration
as Jenner, the introducer of vaccination, is
looked upon by the medical world. His generous
publication of his discoveries, so that all interested
may have the benefit of them, lays all bee-keepers
under great obligations to him.
As an example of the terrible results of this pest
to the bee-keeper, the case of the well-known German
bee-master, Dzierzon, may be mentioned. In the
year 1848 the disease broke out in his apiary, and
more than 500 stocks were destroyed by it; in fact,
only ten hives escaped the pestilence. John Hunter—the
author of a good Manual of Bee-Keeping—records
that from a friend, who had complained of
not finding his bees profitable, he purchased all his
stocks, some twenty in number, and removed them
to his garden. They proved to have foul-brood in
them, and not only did the whole of them perish, but
all Mr. Hunter's own stocks, and, in addition, two or
three years of trouble were required to eradicate the
mischief from the apiary.
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The late Mr. Woodbury, whose name is "a household
word" among bee-keepers, was unfortunate
enough to have this disease among his hives in the
spring and summer of 1863. He published a graphic
account of his trouble in the Journal of Horticulture
of July 21st, 1863, entitled, "A Dwindling Apiary."
By very vigorous measures he was able to get rid of
the pest; but the conclusions to which he came were
the following: "First let me endorse the opinions of
both Dzierzon and Rothe, that, except under very
especial circumstances, it is unadvisable to attempt
the cure of a foul-broody stock: better, far better,
to consign its inhabitants to the brimstone-pit: the
hive itself, if a straw one, to the flames: the comb to
the melting-pot: and appropriate the honey to any
purpose except that of feeding bees."
It is now known that this treatment is by no means
always successful when the bacilli have reached the
"resting" or "spore" stage.
The detection of signs of the disease is not very
difficult, especially in hives with movable frames.
If, during the working season, a stock seems not
only not to increase, but to diminish in numbers;
if fewer and fewer bees appear active about the
entrance; and if, above all, a peculiarly disagreeable
odour is perceptible, at even one or two feet from
the entrance, it is time to look to the condition of
the interior. An infected comb, on examination, is
seen to be dark and unwholesome-looking. If the
caps covering the brood be distinctly sunk, so as to
show a concave surface, the existence of the disease
is almost a certainty; and if the covering of one or
more of these cells be removed, there will be found
dark coffee-coloured, slimy liquid, the remains of the
larvæ destroyed by the bacillus.
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From what we have said of this disease it will be
seen that it is most important for any one about to
commence bee-keeping to be sure the stocks he may
purchase are not only themselves free from disease,
but come from an apiary absolutely uninfected
by it. Many a beginner in apiculture has been so
disheartened, and has suffered such severe loss from
foul-brood in his hives, that he has given up bee-keeping
in disgust. We need hardly say that any
man who knowingly sold hives with foul-brood in
them, would deserve to be visited with penalties for
damages, which we have no doubt his victim could
obtain by legal process.
Some writers enumerate vertigo, or giddiness and
staggering, among the diseases of bees. We incline
to the belief that cases of the kind observed were
due to the individuals having been stung in fighting,
though it is possible that mistakes in pasturage may
occasionally be made, and that the nectar of certain
flowers may induce disorder in the bee-constitution.
We, however, doubt the likelihood of the quick senses
of the insect being at fault with regard to food which
will prove hurtful.
One other malady has been occasionally noticed,
viz., the swelling of the terminal segments of the
antennæ. The occurrence of this mischief is too rare
to need further remark, beyond the suggestion that
it may be the result of microbe germs having made
a lodgment in the tender organs affected.
There is a striking analogy in the results of insanitary
conditions, and the propagation of zymotic
disease among the human family and among bees.
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Unwholesome food, defective ventilation, the diffusion
of poisonous germs, produce, among both orders of
beings, similar disastrous effects; and this sketch of
the diseases of one class of domesticated insects may
serve to point a moral for the guidance of mankind
in social economy. The same inexorable laws of
health and sickness prevail in the highest and the
inferior orders of animal existences, and with unvarying
steadfastness is proclaimed the solemn warning
"Be not deceived: God is not mocked. Whatsoever
a man soweth that shall he also reap."
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CHAPTER XVI.
THE ENEMIES OF BEES.
Birds—Mice—Moths—Braula cÅ“ca—Hornets and Wasps—Spiders—Toads—"Robber
Bees"—Prevention of robbing.
It might well be imagined that creatures armed with
such deadly weapons as bees, would have few enemies
who would dare to contend with them. The fact is,
however, that they are exposed to dangers from
numerous sources. Various kinds of wild birds,
domestic fowls, mice, certain species of moths, hornets,
wasps, ants, spiders and toads, are more or less
destructive to them.
Among the common birds fond of these insects
as food, may be mentioned the titmouse tribe. Mr.
Hunter says he has found hundreds of stings of bees
adhering to a fence, evidently extracted by these
active and clever little birds previous to swallowing
their prey. Their depredations, however, are usually
not great, and they are often satisfied to regale themselves
on the dead insects which are carried out of
the hive. In America, the King-bird (Tyrannus
muscicapa) is mentioned by Langstroth as devouring
scores of our winged friends, which he does not
hesitate to seize on flower-blossoms, showing, indeed,
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a sensible preference for those who are distending
their honey-bags with nectar. The swallow was
credited by the Greeks with being a robber of
apiaries, as the address of the old poet indicates:—
"Attic maiden, honey-fed,
Chirping warbler, bear'st away
Thou the busy buzzing bee,
To thy callow brood a prey?
Warbler, thou a warbler seize?
Winged, one with lovely wings?
Guest thyself, by summer brought,
Yellow guests whom summer brings?
Wilt not quickly let it drop?
'Tis not fair; indeed, 'tis wrong,
That the ceaseless warbler should
Die by mouth of ceaseless song." [6]
We have no reason to charge our swallows with
the crime of bee-eating. Domestic fowls will sometimes
regale themselves with a meal of live bees, it
they can reach the entrances to the hives, so that it is
advisable to forbid their access to them. Mice occasionally
effect an entrance, especially into skeps, and
annoy the inhabitants by their disagreeable odour,
and by gnawing the combs, and eating brood and
honey. The winter is the time when there is most
danger from these plunderers, as the bees are then
too torpid with the cold to notice and to attack the
intruders. It is easy to prohibit their inroads, by
sufficiently contracting the entrances, and preventing
their gnawing the rims of the hives, or getting under
the top coverings.
Moths, being active at night, require constant
watchfulness on the part of the bee-sentinels to
exclude them from their abodes. Attracted partly
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by the favourable conditions for egg-hatching, through
the steady warmth kept up in the hives, they lay their
eggs in crevices, and along the borders of bee-homes.
The larvæ, when able to crawl, make their way over
the combs, which, with their contents, they greedily
devour, and if attacking in large numbers they sometimes
prove fatal to a stock.
Fig. 42.—The Enemies of Bees.
The two kinds most destructive are the British
wax-moth, Achroia grisella, and the Galleria mellonella.
The latter is more troublesome in Italy than in our
own country. If the population of a hive be strong
and in thoroughly sound condition, there is not
much danger to be apprehended from either of these
foes. Should, however, a colony be weak, and still
more if queenless, such a hold may be gained by
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these their lepidopterous enemies, as will be wholly
ruinous. Combs in store are yet more liable to their
attacks, but the moths may be dislodged, and their
eggs or larvæ destroyed, by exposing such combs to
the fumes of burning brimstone. An examination of
hive-coverings and floor-boards in the spring and
autumn, and the destruction of all grubs found about
them, will often save much trouble from the moths.
The presence of these intruders among the combs
may be detected by the occurrence of their excrement,
resembling grains of very fine gunpowder, on
the floor-boards.
The death's-head moth, Acherontia Atropos, is also
said, by some writers, to be troublesome to apiarians;
but it is too rare an insect to be seriously destructive.
A parasitic louse, called Braula cœca, is occasionally
found in considerable numbers in hives on
the Continent. Happily, the English climate does
not appear to suit its constitution well, so that its
occurrence is not very frequent, and is generally the
result of the introduction of Ligurians and other
foreign varieties into an apiary.
Pre-eminent among the enemies of bees stand
hornets and wasps, particularly the latter in the
autumn of the year. They are active, courageous,
and persistent robbers; and, unless the hive-entrance
be well guarded, they will slip in, and, escaping
notice, will pilfer the honey without stint. So determined
are their attacks, that they will utterly ruin
weak colonies, and will sometimes so dishearten even
tolerably vigorous ones, as to make them desert their
hives. When once they have learnt there are stores
to be plundered, they do not fail to come in numbers
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if they know that only a feeble resistance will be
offered to them. Various means of stopping their
depredations may be adopted. The most radical
measure is to destroy queen-wasps in the spring.
They are the only ones in existence then, and are
considerably larger than their worker-daughters.
Again, every wasp's nest in the neighbourhood of an
apiary should be got rid of, by pouring gas-tar into
the entrances, and ramming earth over it. Thirdly,
by hanging a narrow-necked bottle of sweetened
beer near the bee-hives, many wasps will be attracted
to the liquid; and, becoming surfeited and silly, will
be unable to escape, and will be drowned. A fourth
precaution is to narrow the entrances of the hives, so
that one or two bees can defend them. The sentinels
are able to master these their enemies in fair fight;
indeed, the wasps rarely show any inclination for a
battle. They trust to their activity and boldness,
rather than to any real courage. The best preventive
measure is to keep the stocks of bees strong. It is
usually only the weak who suffer serious attacks
from their insect enemies.
Spiders prove a nuisance and destructive, chiefly
by spinning webs into which the weary workers fall
when returning home, or into which they unwarily
rush on emerging from their abodes. Care in sweeping
away the cobwebs will remove danger from this
source.
Toads are credited, or charged, with a love of
honey-filled bees, and may sometimes be seen watching
their opportunity of making a meal near the
entrances, where they are said to pick up many a
dainty morsel with honey-sauce ready made. These
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slowly-moving creatures may easily be caught and
taken away, so as to do no more mischief.
We must not pass from this part of our subject
without speaking of the aptness of bees to rob one
another. If an unfortunate individual makes the
mistake of going to a hive not its own, it will immediately
be seized as an intruder. In the hope of
propitiating the assailants, it will extend its proboscis,
and offer some of its internal honey-store.
Nor will the custodians refuse to accept what is
evidently intended as a peace-offering; but they will
not cease their attempt to drag off or to kill the
interloper, who is happy if able to escape from the
onslaught. This kind of robbery is, in a manner,
to be regarded as justifiable.
Such is not the case, however, with the organised
or desultory pillage which frequently goes on when
the inability of a stock to defend itself has been
discovered by its neighbours. We have known the
contents of a hive completely cleared out by "robber-bees"
in a few hours, crowds of them rushing in and
filling themselves. Then, having carried the spoil to
their own homes, they will return again and again,
till there is nothing left for them to plunder. Of
course the community attacked wholly perishes in the
battle or from starvation. Nor is this the worst of
such an occurrence; for, when once these unhallowed
sweets have been tasted, when these insects—it must
be confessed, of very low morality—have discovered
that robbery is much more easy and more productive
of results than honest work, they appear seized with
a perfect mania for living as freebooters, and will
attempt hive after hive, when their first onslaught
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has been effective. Terrible mischief is often the
result; for, not only is the habit of ordinary nectar-seeking
broken off, but fierce battles are fought with
strong stocks, and many hundreds of the combatants
perish. Moreover, the ordinary avocations of an
assailed colony are completely interrupted, and general
disturbance, if not complete disorganisation, prevails.
Such a disastrous state of things is sometimes
begun by carelessness on the part of the bee-keeper,
in allowing pieces of honey-comb to lie about within
reach of any of his stocks. The taste of the sweet
liquid, for which they have a perfect passion, seems
to act like a glass of gin on an abstainer who has
formerly been a drunkard. Their thirst for more is
fired, and, once enkindled, will not easily subside. It
is particularly necessary, therefore, especially in the
late summer and the autumn, when supplies from
flowers begin to fall short, to take care not to provoke
the lust of having honey at all hazards, by allowing
any to be exposed to the smelling or other perceptive
powers of the bees. It is equally important in feeding
stocks to prevent any exposure of the syrup, and not
to permit stranger-bees to get at the feeding-bottles.
If the mischief of robbing is detected in its early
stage, much may be done to stop it by narrowing
the hive entrances, so that only one bee at a time
can get in. This will enable the sentinels to examine
each one who tries to enter, and to turn back
strangers. If, however, the evil has taken a serious
hold, it is better to close the attacked hive altogether
for a time, and to hang near the entrance a sponge
or cloth soaked in diluted carbolic acid, or some
liquid potent and disagreeable in its odour. If these
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methods are of no avail, it will be better to remove
the colony to a distance, or to a dark cellar; and by
taking care to secure ventilation, and to give a supply
of syrup, the community, which would otherwise
surely perish, may be rescued. If returned in three
or four days to its former stand, it is well to take the
precaution of placing a sloping board before the
entrance, so that its exact position may escape the
notice of would-be robbers. These can often be
detected early in their operations by their hovering
restlessly in front of a hive, without the courage to
settle, or, perhaps, because they do not know precisely
where the opening is. A shower from a
watering-pot will sometimes send them about their
own proper business.
Another method for stopping robber-bees from their
plundering is to put at night into the hive attacked
a small quantity of some strongly-smelling substance—a
little musk, for example. The unwonted odour
seems to rouse the inhabitants, and if they have a
healthy queen, they will, in the morning, resolutely
meet the robbers. Moreover, if any of these get in,
the musk will so scent them that when they return
to their own hives they will not be recognised by
their own people, but will be put to death; and thus
a double check is put on their depredations.
It is a remarkable fact that, if a robbed colony be
queenless, or if the queen is killed in the mélée,
survivors from the fight will often fall to on the
remnants of the stores, and, joining the forces of the
conquerors, will convey the honey to the hive whose
inhabitants are the plunderers, and will be peacefully
accepted as citizens among its population. Of course
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the absence or the slaughter of a queen much more
readily exposes her disheartened subjects to attacks
from other bees; and this is another reason for seeing
that no such calamity as queenlessness has befallen
any stock when food is scarce.
In the facts recorded in this chapter we have
striking evidence of "the struggle for existence"
which seems to have been ordained as "a law of
nature" in this world. We can readily discern some
useful purposes connected with it, both as regards
conquerors and vanquished. For, on the one hand,
it is for the benefit of the race that the strongest
individuals should, as a rule, survive to propagate
it; and, on the other, it is better for a sharp and
speedy end to occur to a weak community, rather
than that it should perish by the slow pangs of
hunger, or from inability to continue the rearing of
a progeny. But, even in this respect, as in several
others, bees furnish a serious difficulty to the theory
of evolution. For it is not the strong and victorious
community which propagates the race, but the
individual queen; and she, of course, may be weaker
than the one whose stock has been destroyed by the
more numerous robbers. The case evidently is not
a genuine one of "survival of the fittest," so far as
the succeeding generations are concerned; nor do
we find any special adaptation for future advantages
secured. The battle is lost and won, but there can
be no impress made, even by successive victories, on
the general physical condition of the stronger party;
for the fight is never undertaken by a single drone
or queen, who alone can transmit any qualities to
posterity.
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CHAPTER XVII.
HIVES.
Natural Abodes of Wild Bees—Taking Honey from Roof of
House—Straw Skeps—Cottager's Hive—Supering—Nutt's
Collateral Hive—Village Hive—Woodbury Hive—Abbott's
Hives—Sectional Supering—Stewarton Hive—Carr-Stewarton
Hive—Observatory Hives—Bee-houses.
In a state of nature bees avail themselves of hollow
trees, crevices in rocks, or other cavities of various
kinds. Swarms escaped from apiaries will frequently
find an entrance to the space between the roof and
upper ceilings of houses, and extraordinary quantities
of comb, brood, and bees have been taken from
such places. Two gentlemen, well known to the
writer, have given the following account in The Bee
Journal for July 1, 1882, of their successful taking of
bees, brood, comb, and honey, from the roof of a
house at Lockinge, near Wantage, Berks.
"The house is very old, and built of lath and
plaster in the old style, with gables. There was a
bricklayer at our service to open walls where suggested.
We commenced at the back gable, and the
bees were situated, one lot in the roof, and two others
in the walls.
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"No. 1 in the wall was the first opened. There was
a space eight or nine inches wide, and five feet long,
and there was disclosed to us a wonderful
sight In front of us were continuous
honey and brood-combs, four feet six
inches long, and as wide as the opening.
The combs were four in number. Then
we took No. 2 (next above), and in a
similar opening found a quantity of brood,
honey, and bees, the combs being smaller.
Then we ascended to No. 3, where
the bees entered by the eaves. After taking some
splendid honey, some gathered by a swarm a month
old, the bees took a turn further in the roof, and we
left them. In the front gable we commenced cutting
away the lath and plaster of the top lot, and opened
a space six feet long and eight or nine feet wide;
and here we were surprised in the extreme: a comb five
feet six inches long (exactly one foot more than the
other) was in front, and the combs were three feet
deep, nearly as wide as the opening. We captured two
queens and a large quantity of bees, and brought
away a lot of brood as well. The whole of this work
was done from a ladder; and had not our time been
precious, we should have liked another day at it, as
there were a quantity of bees, &c., still left behind.
The combs were measured in the presence of the
host and a friend, as well as ourselves, and I vouch
for the correctness of my statement."
From the time that man learnt the value of the
bee as a domesticated insect, habitations more or
less suitable for securing honey have been furnished
to the industrious workers. It is unnecessary to
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detail the various kinds of abodes which have been,
or still are, in use for the purpose in different
countries. It will be more interesting to our readers
to know what are the principal forms of hives
at present in use among us. Of these the most
antiquated, and, we fear we must say, still the commonest,
is the old-fashioned dome-shaped straw skep.
We shall not enlarge upon its merits, though we are
prepared to admit some; but, as it is almost universally
condemned in its primitive form by skilled
apiarians, we prefer to speak of some easy modifications
of it which render it less objectionable.
Fig. 43.—Straw Skep.
In the first place, it must be borne in mind that
every system which requires the slaughter of the
bees for securing honey from them, is radically bad,
and therefore wholly to be discountenanced. At the
same time, every bee-keeper expects, and rightly, that
he should get honey; and this can be managed even
with straw hives, if they have a flat top and a perforation
in it sufficient to allow the population to
go up into supers, wherein to store their produce.
Fig. 44 shows such an adaptation. The lower and
larger receptacle is for brood and the maintenance of
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the stock. The top one, much smaller, and not so high,
is for the surplus honey, which the bees will carry up
when the population is becoming crowded below.
The middle and smallest is merely a covering for the
other two, and for the sake of keeping all warm,
dry, and snug.
Fig. 44.—Flat-topped Hive and Straw Super.
An improved Cottager's Hive (Fig. 45) differs from
the preceding chiefly in the substitution of a glass for
a straw super, and the addition of a window at the
back,[7] closed by a door, for observing the internal
conditions of the stock portion.
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Fig. 45.—Neighbour's Improved Cottager's Hive.
A still better modification is shown on the opposite
page (Fig. 46), and is called, from the inventor and
maker, "Neighbour's improved Cottager's Hive." In
this the lower part has a stout wooden top with
three perforations, which may be closed, at the will
of the owner, by a metal slide. Over each opening is
placed a bell-glass, and admission to these is given
to the bees either singly, or by two or all three apertures.
In use, the bell-glasses are encased with flannel,
felt, or some other good non-conducting substance,
and then the upper hive is let down over the glasses
on to the board. There are three windows in the
lower hive, each closed by a hinged shutter, so that
inspection may be afforded at more points than one.
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Fig. 46.—Neighbour's Improved Cottager's Hive.
- 154 -
Each bell-glass is furnished with a ventilating tube
of perforated zinc, and a ventilating cap is fitted
to the top cover. There is also in the middle of
the back window a thermometer fixed, for ascertaining
the temperature of the stock-hive. By these arrangements
the affairs of the community may, to a certain
extent, be regulated by the master, and pure honey,
free from bee-bread or brood, may be secured without
the destruction of any of the workers.
The three hives now described are, perhaps, the
best for those who have not the requisite time and
skill for the more approved methods of apiculture.
But they should, in other cases, be looked upon as
merely the stepping-stones to systems of bee-management
of a really scientific character.
Passing now to the notice of some of these, we will
draw attention first to "Nutt's Collateral Hive"—named
from its first maker, who may be considered
a pioneer in the improved modern methods.
It consists of three boxes side by side, and having
thin wooden partitions, with six or seven perforations,
to admit of the passage of the bees from one compartment
to another. These may be stopped by
zinc slides. In the centre of the top is a wooden
cover, to contain a bell-glass for supering. A ventilator
over each of the side-boxes secures the proper
temperature of these. "The grand object," as explained
by Mr. Nutt, "is to keep the end boxes and
the bell-glass cooler than the pavilion or middle
box, so as to induce the queen to propagate her
species there only, and not in the depriving (i.e.
honey-storing) part of the hive. By this means the
side and upper combs are in no way discoloured by
brood. The queen requires a considerable degree of
warmth. The bees enjoy coolness in the side-boxes,
and thereby the whiteness and purity of the luscious
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store are increased." When the centre box is filled,
access to the super and one side-box may be given
by opening the slides. The glass is likely to be
filled first, if kept warm by suitable coverings, and
can be removed when the honey is sealed in the
combs. If the season be very productive, one or
both of the side-boxes may also be taken before the
end of the summer, if sufficient stores are left in the
central stock-portion, or if any deficiency be made
up by judicious feeding.
Fig. 47.—Modern Hives. Nutt's Collateral Hive in the Foreground.
The next and most important modification to
which we come is the introduction of movable frames
into hives, admitting of separate removal, either for examination
as to conditions, or for the taking of honey.
Bevan whose admirable work on The Honey Bee,
published nearly half a century ago, is the foundation
of modern systems of apiculture in this country—speaks
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of a straw hive with bars, instead of a solid
top, invented by Mr. Golding, and named by him
"The Village Hive." Even now we consider this
variety might well be the cottager's introduction to
the more enlightened methods of procedure; and it
would, at the same time, satisfy, in large measure,
old-fashioned prejudices in favour of straw for the
material of the stock-hive. If the bars are properly
furnished with "guides," straight and symmetrical
combs may be secured, and the depriving of surplus
honey-stores may be easily effected without murdering
the workers.
Previous to this invention, Réaumur, Bonnet, and
Huber had suggested, and tried, the use of boxes
with movable bar-frames. The last named apiarian
is said to have borrowed his idea from the inhabitants
of Candia, and he called it the "leaf-hive." In its
original form it had eight frames, secured to each
other by hooks and eyes, the external ones being
glazed, and covered with a shutter.
The idea of frames removable separately having
once been established, various improvements were
speedily effected. In 1841 Major Munn, an English-man,
obtained a patent in France for his Bar-and-frame
Hive, an account of which was published in
this country in 1844. In America, the distinguished
apiarian Langstroth made known his modifications
of Huber's hive, and Dzierzon, in Germany, a little
while before, and quite independently, had adopted
the same principle of bars with certain special features,
while Von Berlepsch, in 1853, added frames to
his countryman's bars. In England the bar-frame
system was not really known till its re-introduction
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by Tegetmeier, in 1860. Mr. Woodbury, to whom
reference has been already made more than once,
afterwards brought out the frame-hive which met
with the first general acceptance by apiarians in
this country.
Fig. 48.—The Woodbury Hive.
Fig. 49.—Woodbury Straw Bar-Frame Hive.
As originally made, it consisted of a wooden box,
141/2 inches square on the inside, and 9 inches deep.
The frames were ten in number, each 13 inches long
by 71/4 inches high. The ends projected, and fitted
into notches at the back and front; but this arrangement
was found to be objectionable, from the secure
manner in which the bees were able to glue them
down with propolis. As facility of lifting without
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jarring the frames is of great importance, better
means of keeping them in place had to be, and have
been, devised.
Subsequently to his first introduction of the above-described
hive, Mr. Woodbury suggested that the
sides, back, and front should be made of straw, as
being a better non-conductor of heat, affording a
little ventilation, and absorbing the moisture of
respiration more readily than wood. We give a
figure on page 157 of this modification.
Various improvements on the original of Mr. Woodbury's
pattern have been made. Of these we will
mention first Mr. Cheshire's bar-frame hive, and we
had better, perhaps, describe it in his own words:—"It
consists of two main portions—the super-cover,
the upper half of what may be denominated the
body, and the hive proper, in the lower portion of
which breeding is carried on, and where the bees pass
the winter. In front of the lower part may be seen
the porch, with its roof consisting of a stout piece of
pine, about three inches wide, and running completely
along the hive-face. This is chamfered off towards
the end, the more effectually to carry away drip, and
has a channel near its front edge, which acts as a
gutter, by which the rain is conveyed to its ends.
This gutter is shown in the cross-section at E. The
bottom board of the hive projects 21/2 inches along the
front, so as to form a very convenient alighting board.
Ten inches of the central part of this is grooved,
so that, should it be reached by driving rain, the
convex parts remain free of water, affording the bees
a dry passage to the interior. The flight-hole is ten
inches in length, and is formed by cutting from the
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hive-wall a piece a full quarter of an inch deep. There
are two sliding shutters (shown in Fig. 50), by which
the entrance-way may be regulated as occasion may
require. The super-cover is hinged, and so contrived
by the aid of a chain, that it can only open until its
lines, horizontal when in situ, become perpendicular,
and vice versâ.
Fig. 50.—Cheshire's Bar-Frame Hive.
"The walls of the hive are double,
and have between them a space containing dead air.
As heat is conducted by air with extreme slowness,
these means prevent the escape of that generated by
the bees during rigorous weather, while they also
exclude the ardour of the sun's rays during summer.
In order to give room for the ears of the frames, the
inner skin, front and back, is made an inch shallower
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than the outer one. Standing three-eighths of an inch
above the former are two strips of zinc (1 and 2 Fig. 51)
each about an inch wide, and which serve to carry
the frames so that they cannot be propolised, while
they can be slid backwards and forwards with the
greatest ease during manipulation. The depth of
the hive is 83/4 inches, the width 141/2 inches inside.
The length will vary with the number of frames used."
Fuller details are to be found in Mr. Cheshire's
excellent book called Practical Bee-keeping.
Fig. 51.—Cheshire's Bar-Frame Hive (sectional view).
Mr. Abbott, the well-known maker of apparatus
of all kinds for apiculture, who was the editor and
proprietor of The Bee Journal for many years, has
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also made various arrangements and improvements
to secure advantages beyond those of the original
Woodbury hive. We cannot detail all these modifications;
but among them may be mentioned that
the ends of his frames are so notched as to
render them easily held by the fingers when it is
required to lift them, and to replace them. Mr.
Abbott also makes hives of various degrees of cheapness,
according to the conveniences required and the
neatness of workmanship demanded. We may safely
attribute to him a vast influence on scientific bee-keeping,
and a visit to his works and apiary at
Southall, not far from London, on the Great Western
Railway, will well repay any one interested in
apiculture.
Fig. 52.—Abbott's Standard Frame.
Fig. 53.—Abbott's Standard Frame (top view).
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All the hives we have just been describing are
adapted for supering, i.e. for getting honey stored in
receptacles above the stock portion. The usual and
most convenient form of such receptacles is that of
small oblong cases, without front or back, cut in one
flat piece of wood, and easily folded into shape, their
slotted ends fitting, by pressure, tightly into one
another. At the top of each, when folded, a small
piece of guide comb is attached, as a help and an
attraction to the bees in beginning their work
in them.
Fig. 54.—Neighbour's Sectional Super (Open).
Fig. 55.—Frame Super.
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Fig. 56.—Glass Frame Hive, with Super.
It is usual now to pack a certain number of these
into a frame or "crate," so that they may conveniently
be placed upon, or removed from, the top
of a hive. If kept properly warm, and well protected
by their cover, not only do the bees, when
needing room for storage, readily take to them, but
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they afford means of collecting, in a very neat,
attractive, and convenient form, large quantities of
purest and sealed honey. Thousands of hundred-weights
are now annually secured in this manner in
our own country, and tons of such filled sections
are every year imported from America, from which
country, we believe, was derived this ingenious little
invention, which has done so much towards the
promotion of the pleasure and profit of bee-keeping
among us.
Some people, however, still prefer to secure their
super-honey in bar-frames similar, except in point
of depth, to those of the stock hive. Such an
arrangement may be seen on the preceding page,
which represents one made by Messrs. Neighbour
and Son.
A form of hive first brought out at Stewarton, in
Scotland, and named after the place of its original
manufacture, is a great favourite with many bee-keepers,
and certainly often yields admirable results
in the way of super-honey. We are warranted,
therefore, in giving some account of it.
It consists (see Fig. 57) ordinarily of four octagonal
boxes. Three of these, A, B, and C, are called
"body-boxes," and serve as abodes for the bees, for nurseries
and supplies of food, for rearing the young and for
winter use. Each is fourteen inches in diameter in the
widest parts, and five and a-half inches deep inside.
Nine bars range along the top of each. These are
not movable, but serve as guides to the bees for
building straight combs. Between them, and beyond
the outer ones, are ten narrow strips made to slide
in grooves in the bars, so that the top is completely
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and securely covered. The figure represents the way
in which the slides shift. The top box D is that in
which the honey to be taken by the bee-master is
stored. It is four inches in depth, its other dimensions
being similar to those of the boxes below it. It is
furnished with only seven or eight, instead of nine
bars, the object being to induce the bees to build longer
cells for depositing honey in. This not only secures
a greater quantity for less expenditure of wax, but
prevents the queen laying eggs in them, if she should
go up into the top box.
Fig. 57.—Stewarton Hive.
For her majesty, finding
it impossible to reach the bottom of the cells to
place her eggs as she has been accustomed to do,
will retire to the lower boxes, where she finds places
perfectly adapted to her instincts or her needs. The
honey is thus kept free from brood, and it presents
a massive and rich appearance. Bees seem greatly
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to appreciate this form of hive, and a strong swarm
will often fill the two lower boxes with comb in ten
days. To get the full advantage, however, of this
system, it is best to put a swarm into each of the
lower compartments, or in the first and third, if two
colonies of bees cannot be procured on the same
day. If they be kept asunder a few days by slides
with perforations, to let their odours commingle,
they may be allowed to join their forces, and the
queens will settle the sovereignty by a battle, ending
in the death of the weaker. When the stock-boxes
have become well filled with bees, admission may be
given to the honey-box, and, in a good season, splendid
combs of honey may be secured in this way. We
have seen supers of great weight and beauty taken
from the Stewarton hive. Its merits have been well
described from time to time in The Journal of
Horticulture and The Bee Journal, by a
"A Renfrewshire Bee-keeper."
Mr. C. W. Smith designed a modification of the
above hives which he named the Carr-Stewarton. In
it the square form is substituted for the octagonal,
so as to secure the interchangeability of all combs—an
important matter in the practical affairs of
an apiary.
The chief points of recommendation in the Stewarton
hive seem to be, its excellence as winter
quarters for its inhabitants, and the readiness with
which large quantities of super-honey are stored
in it.
In order that some of the wonders of bee-work
may be seen in the process of performance, various
arrangements have been made, constituting what are
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called "Observatory Hives." In these glass is substituted
for wood in the sides, shutters being fixed
over them to exclude the light. In some cases
Venetian blinds are used instead of shutters. The
frames with the combs are sometimes arranged
vertically in one or two series, and sometimes
laterally a dozen or more standing one behind
another. In the latter instance both the top and
the sides are of glass.
Fig. 58.—The Carr-stewarton Hive.
The whole hive may be made
to revolve by means of two iron wheels, the one fixed
to its bottom, the other to a stout board running its
whole length. In the centre of the floor-board there
is an opening into a passage below, which leads to
the open air. This arrangement enables the hive to
be turned in any direction without interfering with
the egress and ingress of the bees. If the queen
with her attendants cannot be found on one side of
the combs, the other side may be brought into view
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by rotating the hive, and the different classes of the
population can be studied, and their work surveyed
in security and continuously.
Fig. 59.—Unicomb Observatory Hive.
The unicomb hive may be stocked in various ways.
The simplest plan is to take from a bar-frame hive
the comb on which the queen is, and put it into the
unicomb hive with as many more empty frames as
will fill all the space intended for their reception.
In this way new clean comb will be made, giving a
much better appearance to the colony. Another
plan is to take brood-comb in frames sufficient in
number to fill the hive at once. The bees will then
make a queen for themselves, and the interesting
process may be watched in all its stages, provided, of
course, that there are some freshly-laid worker-eggs
in the cells.
It is not advisable to try to keep the bees alive
in an observatory hive during the winter, because so
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much heat is lost by absorption through the glass
sides and top. It is best, therefore, to replace the
frames and their tenants, early in the autumn, in the
ordinary wooden hives.
Much discussion has taken place among apiarians
as to the merits of bee-houses. Those who advocate
their use do so on the following grounds: Firstly,
the protection afforded by a permanent building to
contain the stocks, secures them from dangers of
severe storms of wind, hail, rain, and snow. The
first kind of tempest is apt to overthrow hives; the
second to terrify the bees by the violence of the
impact of the ice-drops; the third to saturate the
floor-boards, and even to penetrate the top coverings;
and the last will sometimes choke up the entrance-holes,
and cause the suffocation of the bees.
Secondly, for manipulating purposes in all weathers
the shelter of a bee-house is very convenient, beside
diminishing the danger of chilling the brood under
examination. Thirdly, hives under cover of a roof
are less affected by sun and moisture, and last
longer without requiring paint, than if exposed
to all weathers.
Those who advocate the placing of each hive on a
separate stand in the open air, allege the following
objections to bee-houses: Firstly, that of expense.
Secondly, that they form a shelter for mice, moths,
spiders, &c. Thirdly, that they promote dampness.
Fourthly, that they encourage robbing by the bees.
Fifthly, that they are inconvenient for manipulating,
by causing disturbance in neighbouring hives while
operations are going on. Sixthly, that they tend
to the loss of young queens returning from their
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marriage flight, by the sameness of appearance in
the entrances, and the nearness of the hives to
each other.
We cannot discuss the replies given to most, if not
all of these objections; but must content ourselves
with saying that we advise all who have a shed which
can be converted into a bee-house, or who do not
mind the expense of putting up a building, to secure
the advantages of such a shelter, and to take the
easy precautions against possible inconveniences.[8]
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CHAPTER XVIII.
NATURAL SWARMING.
General Facts connected with Swarming—Reconnoitring—Settling—Hiving—Curious
Incidents—Transferring Swarms to
Bar-Frame Hives—Division of Swarms—Placing Swarm in
Permanent Position-Number of Bees in Swarming—"Casts"
and Later Swarms—Prevention of Swarming—Feeding of Swarms.
The facts detailed up to this point will enable the
subject of swarming both natural and artificial to
be understood very clearly, and we will now speak of
this most important matter in its various bearings.
Firstly, it must be mentioned that swarming is the
result of so great an increase in the population of a
hive that work cannot efficiently be carried on, in
consequence of the crowd of bees. In ordinarily
good seasons the queen has produced so large a
progeny by the second or third week in May, that a
colony will be ready to start. The workers, being
previously impelled by the growing numbers of the
hive, will have prepared some royal cells. As the
time for the emerging of the princesses approaches,
the old queen, in her rage at the thought of coming
rivals, attempts to destroy her future compeers.
In this, however, she is thwarted by her otherwise
obsequious attendants. In her wrath, she utters a
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succession of shrill, angry notes, having the sound of
"peep, peep." To this one or more of the unhatched
queens will reply in similar tones; and these constitute
what is known to bee-keepers as "piping." It
is especially noticeable previous to the issue of
swarms after the first, and may be heard, particularly
in the morning and evening, on placing the ear to
the side or back of a hive about to send off another
colony, and especially about the eighth day after the
first issue.
Another indication of the approach of swarming is
the clustering of bees in idleness near and outside the
entrance of the hive. This is specially observable
if, through unfavourable weather, an enforced delay
occurs in the departure of the colony.
When the old queen has become sensible that
she must depart with a portion of her subjects, she
usually chooses a fine morning for her exodus; and,
under ordinary circumstances, takes her flight between
the hours of ten and one in the day. Occasionally,
however, from some cause, she will delay her start,
and the writer has had one instance in his own experience
in which the swarm came out at the unusually
late hour of a few minutes after five in the afternoon.
All the bees who are about to accompany their
sovereign, take the precaution of securing a supply of
food sufficient to last them several days; for they
instinctively know they will be so occupied in wax-making
and the internal preparations of their new
home, that there will be no opportunity for them
to get supplies out of doors, while, of course, they
expect to tenant an empty dwelling. When all is
ready, and their honey-bags are distended to the full,
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they rush to the entrance, from which they excitedly
pour by hundreds and thousands. Among them is
their proper sovereign; for, as we have already
hinted, it is always, except in the rarest cases, that
the old queen heads, or rather accompanies, the
swarm. Dzierzon records one case in which the old
queen refused to quit the hive, and three strong
swarms were led forth, within a few days of each other,
by her royal daughters.
Fig. 60.—A Swarm.
And now, when the main body of the emigrants
has issued from their quarters, the whole air seems
alive with the excited, flitting, buzzing insects. The
noise of their humming can be heard for many yards
away, and a novice may well wonder what is to be the
end of the commotion. Ordinarily, however, within a
few minutes, after their exodus, it will be observed that
a gathering of a thicker crowd is taking place at some
particular spot most frequently on some low tree or
bush. There her majesty has settled, and at once
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her loyal subjects assemble around her, and form a
living cluster. Quickly, from all sides, they continue
to gather, and in a quarter of an hour or twenty
minutes a dense mass will be hanging one to the
other, till it seems wonderful the queen and those in
the interior of the living ball are not suffocated.
Fig. 61.—"Tanging."
In country places it is still the custom to beat
warming-pans, tin kettles, frying-pans, or other
unmusical vessels, with keys or sticks or hammers,
while the bees are swarming, under the idea that the
noise makes them settle the more quickly. That any
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effect is produced on the insects is not any longer
believed by apiarians; and there is good reason for
thinking that the origin of the practice was altogether
different from its supposed use. The probability is,
that it indicated at first nothing more than that some
one wished to proclaim to the neighbours the fact of
his bees having swarmed, so that he might lay claim
to them wherever they might settle.
It sometimes happens that the inclination to cease
flying is delayed beyond the usual time. It is said
by Langstroth that the throwing of a few handfuls of
dust into the air, or the flashing of sunlight by a
mirror among the bees, will have the effect of
bringing them down. Vergil, nineteen centuries ago,
pointed out that, in what he called their battles, but
which were probably only the confusions of swarming,
the flinging of dust or earth among them would
have a quieting effect.
Sometimes, unfortunately, a strong and wayward
queen will lead off her colony far beyond the precincts
of the apiary in which she has been living.
The writer has, during the past season (1883), had to
regret the vagaries of such a queen, who, the previous
year, came into his possession through her abandoning
her former master, without giving any clue as to
her ownership; and this year, after twice settling,
and being once hived, within some two hundred
yards of the apiary, took wing again, and was entirely
lost, though followed more than half a mile. Few
things are more vexing to the bee-keeper than such
mishaps; and it becomes necessary to take all precautions
which are possible against them. When,
therefore, a swarm has once decidedly gathered into
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a cluster, it should be shaded from the direct rays of
the sun; for the excitement, the close massing, combined
with the natural warmth of the surrounding
air, will raise greatly the temperature of the mass;
and, to escape suffocation, a second flight is sometimes
undertaken. A wet sheet, an umbrella, a sack
supported on stout sticks, and many another simple
expedient will answer the purpose of promoting a
requisite coolness.
Next, immediate preparations should be made for
hiving. As a rule, bees, when swarming, are very
good-tempered, because they are gorged; and, like
Englishmen, improve in disposition under the influence
of good food. Some curious stories, indeed,
have been told of the perfect inoffensiveness of these
insects when thus forming a colony. We will give
two of these, narrated by Bevan.
A gentleman wishing to hive a swarm that had
settled on the branch of an apple-tree, gave the hive
in which he was going to place them into the hands
of a maid-servant She, being a novice, and somewhat
timid, covered her head and shoulders with a
cloth, to protect her face. On shaking the tree, most
of the bees fell upon the cloth, and quickly crept
under it, covering the girl's chest and neck up to her
very chin. Her master instantly impressed her with
the necessity of being perfectly quiet, and refraining
from all buffeting, while he began to search for the
queen. Having found her majesty, he gently removed
her; but, to his disappointment, the swarm showed
no signs of following her. Suspecting at once that
there was a second queen in the cluster, he made
another search, and found his supposition was correct.
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On securing her, and placing her with a small cluster
of bees in the hive, the rest followed in crowds, till,
in two or three minutes, not a single one was left
on the girl, who was thus relieved from her anxious,
and what might have proved most dangerous position,
had she excited and alarmed the insects.
The other incident is no less striking. A skilled
bee-master had a little friend who was very much
afraid of being stung. One day, a swarm having
come off, the queen was observed to settle by herself
at a short distance from the cluster. The gentleman
at once called the child to him, that he might show
her the queen. Becoming interested in the somewhat
uncommon sight, the girl desired to observe
the royal insect more closely; so the bee-master,
having made her put on gloves, placed the queen in
her hand. Immediately the whole of the bees in the
swarm thronged around. With an admonition to the
child to remain motionless and speechless, and without
fear to retain her self-possession, the gentleman
quietly covered her head and shoulders with a very
thin handkerchief, and made her stretch out her
right hand, in which the queen was. The swarm at
once began to settle, and hung from the girl's hand
and arm as if from the branch of a tree. Delighted
at the novelty of the affair, and finding herself
unstung, the child then requested to have her head
uncovered. After a while, when the bees were all
quiet, a hive was brought. By a vigorous shake the
swarm was made to fall into their abode, and every
one of the insects was got rid of without the infliction
of a single wound.
Probably it would not often happen that such
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completely harmless results would follow such
occurrences: for, it is not unfrequently the case that
a few bees, perhaps having joined the swarm without
having had the opportunity to fill themselves
with honey, prove somewhat spiteful; and, notwithstanding
the general quietness of a just-emerged
colony, even experienced apiarians by no means
always escape punishment when dislodging a swarm.
It is, however, quite easy to secure complete protection
by means of a properly made veil to guard the
face and neck, and gloves to cover the hands. We
strongly advise all novices, therefore, to make use of
these preservatives from stings, when proceeding to
get the bees into the hive intended to receive them.
Some persons advise that the skep into which the
swarm is to be brushed or shaken, should be dressed
with a mixture of beer and sugar, applied with a
wisp of elder-branch and leaves. It is just possible
that the sweetened liquid may be drunk by some of
those not quite satiated with honey, and that thus
an increased quieting influence is exerted upon the
whole mass; but the most skilled apiarians have
given up the practice, in the belief that it is useless,
if not positively mischievous, by wetting the bees,
rendering many of them helpless, and probably
destroying numbers of them.
The facility of hiving depends altogether upon the
place chosen by the cluster for settling. From the
end of a bough, or from a low shrub or bush, there
is no difficulty in securing the swarm. Taking a
clean skep in one hand, and holding it just under
the mass of insects, a sharp shake is given with the
other hand to the branch, and nearly the whole of the
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bees will fall into the hive. Comparatively few will
fly, the vastly larger proportion having clung too
tightly to one another readily to disengage themselves.
As soon as possible, a floor-board should be
quietly and gently placed over the open end of the
skep, which must now be inverted, so as to rest on
the board. One side may be slightly propped, to
afford the flying bees opportunity of more speedy
admission to the interior than the ordinary entrance
hole would give them. Another quarter of an hour
or twenty minutes will suffice for all but a small
number of stragglers to join their companions inside.
Meantime, a shade should be again provided, till all
have entered.
Fig. 62.—Hiving a Swarm.
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If it is intended to locate the colony in a bar-frame
hive, this should have been also previously
made ready, the frames being furnished with sheets
of guide-comb. The coverings being then removed
from the top, and the skep containing the bees held
above the frames, by a sharp jerk downwards, and a
rap or two on the top and sides of the straw hive,
all the bees may be made to fall on the bars of the
frames. They will speedily crawl down on to the
sheets of guide-comb, especially if a light cloth be
gently laid above them.
Another method of transferring them from the
skep is to spread a sheet, or newspaper, in front of
the bar-frame hive, which should be slightly raised
in front from the floor-board. Then, by a smart
jerk, as before, the bees are thrown on to the sheet
or newspaper, close to the entrance, and they will
immediately run in and up on to the comb-foundation.
Sometimes a swarm will divide into two parts,
each of which will settle separately. In such a case,
it is tolerably certain that two queens have emerged
together, as very often happens with second or later
swarms. When such a division of forces occurs,
unless each portion is sufficiently large to form a
stock by itself, it will be advisable to hive them
separately, and then speedily to unite them, leaving
the rival sovereigns to fight for the supremacy.
Occasionally a colony settles around the stem of a
tree, or some place equally inconvenient for being
detached. The difficulty may sometimes be met by
brushing as many bees as can be got at into a hive,
or by holding a hive above the place of settling, and
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by smoke driving the insects upwards, till they learn
the whereabouts of comfortable quarters. At other
times there is no resource but making the swarm
take to flight, in the hope that a more suitable place
will be chosen by them for their next assemblage.
There is a danger, however, that if thus compelled
to move, a too distant excursion may be made, and
the whole colony thus be lost.
As soon as all, or very nearly all, the bees have
gone up into the skep, or into the quarters they
are to occupy, it is advisable to move them to the
stand intended for their permanent position. Some
apiarians, however, recommend waiting till evening
for taking this step. We must dissent from their
opinion for two reasons: firstly, because it often
happens that, in a place away from the apiary,
something may occur to disturb the bees, and they
will forsake the hive. In fact, last season (1883) we
have ourselves lost a valuable colony, which, through
not being brought home at once from the place
where they had settled, were meddled with by a
passing dog, and took another flight far away, and,
though followed long and diligently inquired after,
they were not again discovered. Then, too, the
sooner the bees are placed in their proper position,
the sooner will those going in quest of supplies learn
their new home. If left so little as six or eight
hours in the spot at which they first settle, many
will continue to hover about it all the succeeding
day, and even longer. For these reasons, therefore,
we advocate a speedy carrying of a swarm to the
site selected for it.
It is an established fact that, previously to swarming,
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bees often send forth scouts to select a place for
settling. Neighbour records a curious instance of
this kind. He says: "A lady, who lived about a
quarter of a mile from our apiary, sent to us to say
that a swarm had gone in at a hole over her stable,
and to ask us to come and hive them. On our going
to do so, her gardener told us that he had seen, three
days previous, two or three bees as if reconnoitring;
next day several came, and about eleven o'clock on
the third day the whole swarm went in, and took up
their position between the rafters [? joists] under the
flooring. The difficulty was now to get at them. A
carpenter was sent for, the boards were taken up, a
hive was set over, with a brood-comb placed in it
attract them, and by dint of smoke and brushing
to with a feather, the queen and her retinue were
coaxed to ascend into the hive. Some of the bees
had already gone out to forage, and there were many
flying about that had not settled; so, to secure these,
and to make it easy for them, we brought the hive
out, and erected a sort of platform on a pair of steps
close to the hole, which we stopped. By night-time
all the out-flying bees had joined the swarm, and
were easily removed."
The number of bees in a swarm varies considerably,
but the usual amount is from 10,000 to 15,000.
In rarer cases, there will be from 20,000 to 25,000.
Von Berlepsch, by careful experiments, estimated
that about 4,000 gorged bees weighed 1 lb.: so that
a good swarm will weigh from 3 lbs. to 5 lbs. As
may be easily understood, the more numerous the
bees, the better for the future of the colony, provided
there is space in the hive for them to work in.
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The hive which has sent forth a colony usually
contains large quantities of brood and eggs, and
some cells in which princesses are more or less
developed, so that queens would be provided in
proportional succession. If the stock has been so
weakened that it is not intended, by the workers
remaining, that another colony should issue during
the season, the first queen who emerges is allowed
to destroy all her royal sisters remaining in the cells,
and she, at once, avails herself of the opportunity of
so doing. If, on the other hand, the amount of the
on-coming brood is very large, and it is manifest that
again the hive will become too crowded, the queen is
restrained from her murderous propensities. She
resents this interference by uttering the sharp cries of
"peep-peep," previously mentioned, and is answered
in similar tones by her still imprisoned rival sisters.
This is a sure sign of the approaching emergence of
a second colony. Within two or three days of the
piping being heard, the expected event takes place,
though occasionally it may be delayed, by cloudy or
wet or cold weather, till the fifth day. Such a second
exodus is called a "cast." Sometimes in the excitement
of "casting" several young queens, who have
been under guard, will escape; and as many as five
have been known thus to issue with a second swarm:
indeed, Langstroth mentions one instance of eight
queens having thus left the parent stock at one time.
Of course, when such an event occurs, if all are
hived with the general cluster, they will fight till
one only is left to enjoy supremacy in the community.
If the settling of the swarm takes place in
two or three places, it is pretty sure that more than
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one queen has come forth. It is best then to search
for one or more, and to remove them, to be used, if
necessary, in other hives, and then to unite the
separate clusters.
To third and later swarms from the same hive,
the fanciful names of "colts" and "fillies" have been
given, but they are going out of general use.
Swarms subsequent to the first are usually less
than it in amount of bees. For this reason it is
advisable not to make them into separate stocks,
unless very strong, but either, after removing the
queen, to return them to the parent hive, or to unite
two or more casts, so as to form one strong colony.
It may be remarked that there is this advantage
about a cast, that all the bees, queen included, are
young, and so are likely to work with vigour; and
if sent off early in the season, and naturally or
artificially strong in numbers, they may become a
powerful community: but everything will depend
upon the two conditions just mentioned.
Where it is not really wished to increase the
number of stocks, it is much better to prevent
"casting," by cutting out all queen-cells five or
six days after the first swarm. The reason of the
delay in the operation is, that, by that time, all eggs
and larvæ left by the old queen will have advanced
to a stage at which the workers cannot convert them
into queens, even if they desire to do so.
Another reason, besides the weakness of after
swarms, why efforts should be made to prevent
casting is, that the old stock often becomes, by the
swarming mania, too greatly diminished in population
to prosper, and a double loss is incurred—loss
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of honey, which would be stored largely by a stock
restrained from self-diminution, and loss of general
strength, through there not being bees enough to
collect food for store, and to look after the constantly
hatching brood.
A curious illustration of sagacity in the workers
is, that casts and after-swarms, if allowed to build
in a box as they please, select a corner, instead
of the middle, for beginning, knowing that, through
the smallness of their numbers, they are unlikely
to fill their abode with comb, and so taking
the precaution to secure the snuggest and warmest
position for such combs as they will be able to
construct. They feel that their only chance of surviving
as a colony is their being able to keep up
sufficient heat to hatch the eggs, and to bring forward
the brood in the early autumn and the next
spring. First swarms, confident in their strength,
commence their work in the middle of a hive.
We have already mentioned that the bees, in
swarming, start with their honey-bags full. This
supply will last them about three days. If, at the
end of that time, the weather should be dull and
unfavourable for flying abroad, great benefit will be
conferred on the young colony by giving a supply
of syrup. We shall speak later on of the method
in which it is to be administered. As bees waste
nothing, and never remain idle because they have a
store of food, whatever is given them will be economically
used. Moreover, they prefer their natural
sources of supply, and will not take advantage of
their owner's generosity in giving them syrup, if they
can gather honey. At the same time, the needs of a
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new stock are great during the first two or three
weeks, since much wax has to be made, and homes
and provender for the coming young have to be in
readiness. It is, therefore, a wise and benevolent and
paying plan to feed all swarms whom the weather
prevents from gathering abundant supplies in the
fields. By this means no time is lost in comb-building:
all the workers remain vigorous for flight and
indoor duties: the queen, encouraged by finding no
lack of food for her future offspring, will get on with
laying as fast as the cells are ready to receive her
eggs; and thus all the elements of a prosperous
community will be secured.
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CHAPTER XIX.
ARTIFICIAL SWARMING.
Advantages—Driving: Close and Open—Transfer to Bar-Frame
Hive—Conditions of Successful Driving—Various Methods
of Artificial Swarming with Bar-Frame Hives.
There are some mortifying incidents connected with
natural swarming, which the skilled apiarian will endeavour
to avoid, by taking the matter of the making
of colonies into his own hands. We have spoken
already of the annoyance and trouble often caused
by the flying away of a swarm. This accident at
the beginning of the honey-season means, at least, a
loss of what would be worth from a sovereign to
thirty shillings, either in stock or honey. Another,
but minor, disappointment comes from seeing the
bees hanging outside a hive in handfuls, idle and
useless, waiting for the queen to come forth with a
swarm. In this way the work of some thousands of
bees for several days is lost, and that often at a time
when honey is most plentiful in the fields. Now,
both these difficulties may be met with complete
success by what is called artificial swarming—an
operation which is conducted in different ways,
according to the kind of hive to be operated upon.
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We will speak of the process called driving. This
is the method adopted with the ordinary skep, and
is practised as close or open driving. In the first case,
the plan pursued is as follows: Into the entrance-hole
of the hive to be operated upon a few good
puffs of tobacco, or other smoke, are blown. This
frightens the bees, and they immediately rush to the
cells, and gorge themselves with honey. After giving
them a couple of minutes for this purpose, they
become much more quiet and tractable. If this precaution
be not taken, many of the workers will fly
in anger at the operator, and, though he may be
protected by veil and gloves, will greatly disturb the
comfort of his manipulations. The hive is then
lifted from its floor-board, and inverted, i.e. turned
upside down, on a tub, pail, or pan, partly filled with
water, to keep it firm. Upon it is placed an empty
hive of the same diameter, and round the junction
of their rims is tied carefully a round-towel, or a
bandage of some kind, so as to prevent the escape
of any of the bees. At the same time, or as soon
as possible, another empty hive, with a little syrup
sprinkled on the interior, is put on the stand from
which the stock has been brought, so that the bees,
who were abroad when their home was removed, may
be amused, or, at least, diverted from going to other
hives, where they would be attacked and slain as
robbers. Returning then to the hive from which the
swarm is to be driven, it must be beaten smartly,
but not sharply enough to shake down the combs.
A tolerably stout stick in each hand, or the hands
themselves, may be used for the purpose. It is best
to begin gently, and to increase the force of the
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blows, letting the drumming be continuous, but not
violent. The bees, already terrified by the smoke
blown amongst them, will in the course of a few
minutes begin to run into the upper hive, and a
large enough proportion, together with the queen,
will have gone up within ten minutes or a quarter of
an hour. Their passage up may be ascertained by
the buzzing sound of the multitude of vibrating
wings; and when this has subsided the cloth may
be taken away, and a large cluster of the driven
insects will be found in the top hive. This should
then be placed on the stand from which the stock
was taken, so as to be reinforced by many of the
population who were abroad for supplies. If it is
intended to transfer the new colony to a bar-frame
hive, they can be introduced either by being shaken
on to the tops of the frames, to run down between,
or thrown on a sheet in front of the bar-frame hive,
which should be slightly propped up, as already
described in speaking of natural swarms thus put
into wooden hives. The old stock, containing much
brood and a fair residue of bees, may be placed at
a short distance from its former stand. It will be
sure to have an attraction for many of the adults of
its population so unceremoniously ejected, and some
of the most recently hatched will have refused to
quit it. These combined forces will suffice to tend
the brood; and in a few weeks, with a young queen,
the tenants will be almost as numerous as before the
driving took place.
Open driving is performed in a similar way, except
that the hive, into which the bees are to be made
to ascend, is placed over the other at an angle, and
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only resting upon it for three or four inches. It
is supported in this sloping position by skewers or
iron wires thrust through both hives where they
touch, and with others to prop them well open in
front. This arrangement frees the hands of the
operator: enables him, in many cases, to watch the
going up of the queen an all-important matter for
the success of the artificial swarm: and gives him the
opportunity of judging when a sufficient number of
the stock have been frightened out of their abode
to form a satisfactory colony. The terrified insects
make no attempt to escape by the wide opening free
to them, but rush in a continuous stream up the
connected portions of the hives, and form a cluster
in the roof of the upper one. They have filled themselves
with honey, and, between repletion and fright,
are as inoffensive as so many flies. We have ourselves
had the opportunity of displaying to two
members of the Royal Family the harmlessness of
driven bees, by taking some hundreds with an ungloved
hand, and holding them to the view of Prince
Christian and Princess Beatrice. To the Prince's
inquiry, "Why do they not sting?" the reply was,
that they became like Englishmen after a hearty
meal—very good-tempered, an answer which not
only amused His Royal Highness, but was correct
as an explanation.
The best time for the operation of driving is near
the middle of the day, when many of the workers
are abroad in the fields. Should the weather be
cold, it is advisable to warm the skep into which
the driving is to take place. A further detail of
great use in quieting and reconciling the ejected
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colony is, to sprinkle between the combs, a quarter
of an hour before driving, some weak syrup, made
of one pound of sugar to one pint of water. A wine-glassful
will be enough to use for one hive, as too
large a quantity might seriously wet the bees, and
perhaps glue their wings and limbs harmfully. After
settling down in their new home, they will be
occupied with clearing themselves and each other
of the syrup, which will serve also the purpose of
still further replenishing their honey-bags.
It is difficult to get the bees to leave by drumming
a hive only partly filled with comb. They will cluster
about the unoccupied portions, and resolutely refuse
to go. In this case they may be ejected on to a
sheet, spread to receive them, by three or four sharp
jerks in a downward direction.
It is advisable not to drive a colony after very hot
weather, and when there is a great in-take of honey:
otherwise some of the liquid will begin to flow out of
the cells when the-skep is inverted, and will cause
much trouble and waste, and possibly the destruction
of many bees by drowning them in their trickling
stores. It will be better to wait till the next morning,
when evaporation and the coolness of the night
will have thickened the liquid sufficiently for it to
remain in the cells during the manipulation. The
combs, also, will have become firmer, and less liable
to fall, with the diminished temperature.
The operation of driving from skeps is abundantly
practised by apiarians, in the autumn, among the
hives of those cottagers who would otherwise follow
the old and most barbarous plan of killing their
bees to take the honey. Several stocks of bees thus
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drummed out of house and home may be united to
form a strong colony. If supplied with frames of
comb, or "foundation," and fed with syrup (made
with 21/2 lbs. of sugar to each pint of water, with a
dessert-spoonful of vinegar boiled up with it, to
prevent crystallisation), they may be brought safely
through the winter, and become, by the spring-time,
well worth the expense and trouble they have cost.
Fig. 63.—Swarming Board.
With bar-frame hives the making of artificial
swarms becomes an easy matter, and more than one
plan may be adopted. In the first place, suppose it
is desired to transfer into a skep a swarm from a
wooden hive, for sending to a distance. The preliminary
operations are as follows: Towards evening,
remove the stock a few yards from its stand, and
have ready the skep on a wide board, and propped
up two or three inches in front. Next puff smoke
into the midst of the bees, to quiet them, and to
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induce them to fill their honey-bags. Then lift the
frames one after another, and search for the queen
till found. Take her gently between the first finger
and thumb, seizing her by the wings, place her at
the entrance of the skep, and see that she runs in.
Shake on to the board, close to the skep, the bees
from the frame on which the queen is found, and, after
replacing it in its own hive, take out and shake off
bees from other frames in succession, till a sufficient
amount to make a swarm has been let run into the
skep. They, with their sovereign, will ascend to the
crown of their abode, and then may be secured by
tying a cloth over the open part of the straw hive,
and despatched to their destination. Of course the
frames must be replaced in the stock hive as they
are cleared. The remaining bees will soon make a
new queen for themselves, and will care for the
developing brood. Judgment must be exercised, so
as not to weaken too greatly the population of the
parent-hive.
Another method, still simpler, is to begin operations
in the morning of a bright day, and to shake off the
queen and bees from two frames only, and put the
colony on to the old stand, removing the stock to a
distance of a few yards. The bees abroad for supplies
will, on their return, remain with their queen,
and make up a sufficiently strong community; while
the young, and those who prefer the old stock, will be
sufficient to meet its requirements.
A third plan is to take the frame on which the
queen is, with bees and brood, and place it, with two
or three other frames from the same stock in another
hive, which should be placed on the old stand.
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Foragers returning from the fields will, as in the
preceding case, reinforce the new colony, while the
stock, moved to a little distance, will soon repair the
loss of their queen, and hatch out young bees in place
of those transferred to another home.
A fourth method is to take two combs from each
of several strong stocks, brushing off all bees with
a feather or goose-wing. Then placing the hive thus
filled with comb and brood, on the stand of a strong
stock, the returning bees will take to the home thus
presented to them, and will speedily raise a queen
for themselves from one of the many eggs contained
in the brood cells. The displaced hive must,
as in previous instances, be removed a few yards
from its old position. The reason for filling the
abode of the new community with frames of worker-brood,
is to prevent the bees from building drone-comb,
and raising males only, as they are apt to do
when they have to manufacture a queen, at least till
she is not only hatched but begins to lay eggs.
There are three or four important precautions
which are to be remembered when making artificial
swarms. Firstly—swarming should not be artificially
attempted till drones are tolerably numerous, unless
a fertile queen is to be given to the new colony
Secondly—honey should be abundant when the
swarm is made, unless a good deal is stored in the
combs removed. If syrup, however, be supplied,
all danger from scanty sources outside will be removed.
Thirdly—swarms should be taken only from
the strongest stocks, otherwise both old and new
communities will be, perhaps irretrievably, ruined.
Fourthly—it is an immense advantage to introduce
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a queen into the hive that has been deprived of its
mother-bee; and with suitable precautions, especially
that of caging the supplied sovereign for thirty-six
hours in a receptacle made for the purpose, there
is usually little difficulty in getting the substitute
amicably received by the mourning workers. This
plan not only prevents the loss of two or three
weeks of very valuable time in the rearing and fertilising
of a queen, but obviates the danger of the
young queen, when raised, perishing on her wedding-flight,
through being snapped up by a bird, or mistaking
the entrance of her hive on her return.
Various modifications of the above plans may be
found in Langstroth, but enough has been said to
indicate the ordinary and simplest modes of procedure.
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CHAPTER XX.
QUEEN REARING.
Protection of Queen-cells—Nucleus Hives—Various Methods of
Queen Rearing—American Plan—Introduction of Stranger
Queens—Difficulties.
The breeding of queens can only be done with ease
and complete success in bar-frame hives. If, on
examination of the frames of a stock, queen-cells
with brood in them are found, these may be protected
by means of little wire cages from the animosity of
the mother-bee, and in due course the princesses, as
they hatch out, may be transferred to a small box,
with a piece of comb and a few bees belonging to the
hive. Care must be taken not to let the cage touch
the cell over which it is placed, and it should be
thrust into the comb only to the base of one set of
cells. The best time for thus affording protection is
when the larva is six or seven days old.
A second plan is to take from a hive, late in the
afternoon, a comb containing worker-eggs, with
brood in more advanced stages, and a sufficient
number of bees to keep up warmth enough to promote
the development of the larvæ. These must all
be put into a very small hive, and a supply of honey
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and water should be given. In the course of a few
days a queen-cell, or cells, will be formed, worker-eggs
transferred into them, and these, in process of
time, will come forth as princesses. When fertilised
they will be ready for using in other hives.
Fig. 64.—Queen Cage over Sealed Cell.
A third method is to set a small empty hive over
a full stock, and, when the bees using the entrance of
the upper one are sufficiently numerous, a brood-comb
with eggs and adhering bees may be placed
in the top hive. Then, in a day or two, the aperture
between the two may be closed, and the nucleus
being removed, another can be put in its place, and
the process repeated till as many queens as are
required have been raised.
Fourthly. Two or three combs with brood and
honey may be taken from a hive, and having cut
out a nearly triangular piece of comb, a queen-cell
with comb, nearly equal in size to the hole, may
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be inserted, as shown in the figure. This will expedite
the rearing of the princess. The bees will soon
fill up the intervening spaces, and the daily emerging
young bees will make subjects enough for the young
monarch, till she is needed for the sovereignty of a
larger population. If the miniature stock should
dwindle before the young queen lays and replenishes
the numbers, young bees, which have never flown,
may be introduced from other hives, and these will
be received with pleasure by the remaining workers.
Or another frame with plenty of bees may be exchanged
for one of the empty ones. This latter plan
involves some danger of fighting, which is avoided by
supplying the newly-hatched young.
Fig. 65.—Inserted Queen Cell.
The American bee-keepers manage, it is said, to
hatch royal larvæ and pupæ in little boxes heated
carefully by a small lamp. We have not heard of any
English apiarians who have pursued this method;
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and the probability is that the difficulty of regulating
the warmth accurately, makes the results so uncertain
and disappointing as not to tend to the adoption of
the method among us. Like the "incubators" for
the artificial hatching of poultry, so many circumstances
combine to mar hopes cherished in the use of
them, that it is altogether more satisfactory to rely
on natural processes for the production of the young
of both fowls and bees.
In all the processes of queen rearing described, we
cannot but be struck with the inextinguishable love
shown to the undeveloped young, and the passionate
yearning for a mother-bee displayed by the workers.
It matters not whether the brood presented to them
be taken from their own stock or from another
community; they will at once cluster upon the cells
containing larvæ, and devotedly tend them till they
come forth as perfect insects. The emerging progeny
may even belong to another variety, Ligurian,
Cyprian, or Carniolan; still the same complete devotion
will be displayed. Nor is the willingness of
a colony to receive an introduced queen affected by
the fact of her belonging to a different race from
the subjects to whom she is given. Yet, we do
observe strange differences in the readiness with
which a stranger sovereign is acknowledged. In
some instances there is no hostility manifested to an
uncaged queen, who is allowed to run down among
the combs of a community which is without a
mother. This is especially the case with a stock
just mourning its discovered loss. At other times,
even with careful introduction, and caging for from
twenty-four to forty-eight hours, so unamiable a
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temper is displayed, that the supplied queen is
refused; and she is either stung, or, more frequently,
is so thickly clustered around and upon as to be
suffocated. Occasionally, indeed, such a resolute
determination is shown to have no monarch but one
of their own raising, that the only course is to supply
brood-comb with eggs to such a community, or to
unite them with another stock which has a queen.
We can no more account for these vagaries of so-called
instinct, than we can for those displayed
among human beings endowed with what we consider
the higher faculty of reason.
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CHAPTER XXI.
FEEDING.
Troughs—Dangers of this Method—Bottle Feeders—Cheshire's
Feeding Stage—Neighbour's Can Feeder—The "Round Feeder"—Autumn
Feeding—Spring Feeding—Uses of Precautions—Summer Feeding
of Swarms—Flour-cake—Barley-sugar or Sugar-cake—Mr. Hunter's Recipe.
We have already spoken of the advantages consequent
on feeding swarms for a few days after they
emerge, especially if the weather should be wet, cold,
or dull. It is even more important to see that in
spring and autumn, if the stocks require food, it is
given to them. With the old-fashioned skep there
are difficulties in the successful supply of nourishment.
The ordinary plan used to be to take a piece
of elder-wood, and having cut it down the middle,
and having removed the pith, to stop the open
ends, or manage to have a knot at each, and then,
having filled these long narrow troughs with syrup,
to insert them into the hive by the entrance hole.
Several disadvantages attend this plan. Firstly,
there is the danger of spilling some of the liquid,
and so inducing visits of bees from near hives, and
setting up "robbing," with its disasters. Next, it
is almost impossible, without constant attention, to
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give a proper amount of food thus. Thirdly,
the bees being attracted to the floor of the hive,
often become numbed in cold weather, and perish.
Fourthly, where considerable feeding is necessary,
and has to be rapidly done, it is impossible to
accomplish it by this method, except at the cost
of immense trouble.
Skeps which have a flat or broad top, with a hole
fitted with a cork, can be supplied in a much better
manner by one of the various kinds of apparatus
we shall now describe.
Fig. 66.—Bottle Feeder.
First, the "bottle feeder" consists of a glass jar
(such as pickles, French plums, jams, marmalade, &c.,
are sold in), resting on a block, square or round, as
may be convenient, and having a hole cut to receive
the neck of the bottle. Over the hole is fastened a
piece of perforated zinc with very fine meshes. Over
the mouth of the battle a piece of fine net or muslin
should be secured by a band round the neck, after
the syrup has been poured In. Then the block
having been put over the hole in the top of the hive,
the bottle of syrup may be inverted and stood in
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the hollow prepared for it. The bees will soon
become aware of the fact that food is within their
reach, and poking their tongues through the zinc
and muslin, they will draw what supplies they need.
As no air can get through the syrup, the liquid
will run only as fast as it is imbibed by the bees,
unless, through sun-heat, the bottle should become
so warmed as to cause the air inside to expand, and
thrust out the food faster than it can be drunk.
It is easy to avoid this danger by properly covering
the bottle. Another, and still more important, reason
for protecting it is to prevent any bees from another
hive getting at it; for should they do so, robbing is
very likely to ensue, stolen sweets having a most
demoralising effect on bees, as well as on human
beings; and this trouble once started, it is difficult
to stop it before all the weak stocks have been plundered
and destroyed by their stronger neighbours.
Fig. 67.—Cheshire's Feeding Stage.
In order to regulate precisely the quantity of food
it may be desirable to give to a stock, Mr. Cheshire
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has devised, instead of the muslin cover, a piece of
vulcanite pierced with holes in a particular pattern,
and rotating round a screw in such a way that one,
two, three, or any required number of holes may be
open at the same time. He also uses, and recommends,
a small shovel, in which the bottle of syrup
is first inverted. Then, when placed just over the
vulcanite plate, the shovel is quickly withdrawn
without the loss of any of the liquid.
This matter of carefully controlling the quantity
of food allowed, is very important in the spring, when
it is desired not only to save impoverished stocks
from dying of hunger, but to stimulate well-doing
stocks to early breeding. For, if too abundant
supplies of syrup are given, the bees, in their determination
not to miss any opportunity of storing
at a time when there is no honey to be got out of
doors, will fill the middle cells which are nearest the
bottle, instead of leaving them for the queen to
deposit eggs in, as she would naturally do, to secure
them the full warmth of the cluster of her subjects.
Another method of supplying food is by means
of a tin bottle or can. Mr. Neighbour describes the
one invented by him for continuous supply, as "six
inches wide by six high, with five small holes
at the bottom, and closed by a sliding valve and a
screw-top. The can is filled from the top, with the
valve closed, and when the screw-top is made firm,
this valve is drawn back by moving the pin in front.
The can is placed over the feeding-hole at the top of
the stock hive, and the bees have access to it by small
holes. The can is on the principle of a fountain;
the screw-top rendering it air-tight, the liquid only
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escapes as drawn down by the probosces of the bees.
A glass side is let in, to show when the feeder is
empty. It need not be removed for refilling. The
capacity of the vessel is over a quart." The advantages
of this apparatus are, its security against
robber-bees; the fact that it can be filled in situ, thus
avoiding all escape of warm air in cold weather, and
chilling of the brood; and the facility with which its
condition can be inspected and its store replenished.
In addition, it is strong and not likely to get out
of order.
Fig. 68.—Can Feeder.
Fig. 69.—Round Tin Feeder.
The "round feeder" is made of zinc or earthen-ware,
eight inches across, and three deep. It is
filled by a sloping aperture from the outside. The
bees come up through an opening in the crown of
the hives on to a piece of wood, under a close-fitting
tin cap, which keeps in the heat, and the bees are
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able to feed without the possibility of being drowned.
The outer lid has to be raised; the liquid food is
then poured into the trough, and is gradually drawn
in and consumed. There is a danger in open troughs
or pans, especially of zinc, which must not be overlooked,
and that is the turning acid of the food by
great exposure to the air, and the difficulty of
thorough cleanliness without the waste of a good
deal of food.
Of these various plans, the bottle is by far the
cheapest, and, with a little care, it is quite effectual.
Various makers of bee-apparatus have introduced
slight modifications in their method, tending to
convenience and safety.
The two special seasons when it may be advisable
to give supplies, are the spring and autumn. When,
at the end of February or early in March, some
warm days have promoted activity in the hive, and
its inhabitants are coming forth for flight after their
long winter imprisonment, and are going in search
of pollen and other food, it is desirable to examine
the internal condition of affairs, so as to ascertain
whether unwonted activity means scantiness of stores,
and the need of searching outside for food. Should
the supply of sealed honey be almost exhausted, it
will be necessary to give a moderate, but continuous,
quantity of syrup to avert starvation. For the reason
previously mentioned, it is well not to err on the
side of too great liberality. Let the bees have little
more than enough for their probable daily wants—say,
for a strong stock, about three ounces a day.
It is also important not to fill large bottles with
syrup, otherwise there will be danger of the liquid
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running too freely, if a very warm day succeed a cold
night, as the air in the bottle will expand too rapidly
from the heat, and force out the syrup, to the imminent
danger of the bees.
But, it is not only starving or much impoverished
stocks which may be advantageously supplied with
food early in the spring. If left to themselves, the
wise insects will not promote breeding, till they can
see their way to a constant in-flow of new nourishment
for the rearing of the young. If, then, the
queen is encouraged to lay, by an artificial supply,
she will begin depositing her eggs much earlier than
she otherwise would. Moreover, if the mass of the
population are induced to remain at home, instead of
going out for honey and pollen, the warmth of the
hive will be better maintained, and the developing
young will have more attendants about them. The
most experienced apiarians, therefore, strongly recommend
careful spring feeding; and one point in
the carefulness is the constancy of the supply once
begun, unless there is plenty of honey in the hive.
In cases where this precaution is overlooked, the
hungry workers will consume hundreds of newly-laid
eggs, and will drag the young larvæ from the cells,
thinking that their coming to maturity would involve
a general starvation. On the other hand, it is necessary
to see that no storage is going on in the brood
part of the combs, through too liberal feeding. In
points of this kind experience is the best teacher,
and here the skilfulness of the bee-master is shown.
Another matter of great importance in spring
feeding, is to see that the syrup supplied is not too
thin, otherwise there will be danger of dysentery.
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Again, it must be well boiled and properly prepared,
or what happens to be deposited in the cells will
crystallise, and become worse than useless, as the
bees can only with great difficulty consume or remove
it in that state. The following is the proper
method of preparation: Take of loaf sugar 31/2 lbs.,
and boil in a quart of water. While boiling, add
a table-spoonful of vinegar, and continue the boiling
for ten minutes more. Strain the liquid, and it is
ready for use. It may, with advantage, be supplied
to the bees while it is lukewarm. The addition of
the vinegar is an important point, as it converts the
cane-sugar into glucose, or grape-sugar, which is
much less liable to crystallisation.
In bad weather throughout the spring, the watchful
apiarian will give his bees some artificial food, unless
they have abundant stores in their hives.
Nor must it be forgotten that, if the production of
brood is to be stimulated, some nitrogenous food will
be necessary. When crocuses and willow-blossom
are plentiful in the early spring, the bees will collect
sufficient pollen from these sources, to provide for
their wants in the above respect. But, failing a
natural supply of such azotised material, pea-meal
forms a good substitute, and is readily made use
of by the workers.
In summer, it is only swarms or casts, as a rule,
that ought to be in any need of this kind of help;
but, as autumn comes on, especially if the bees have
been seriously deprived of their hardly-earned supplies,
it will be necessary to make up to them some
of that of which they have been denuded. With
skeps, the only guide as to the condition of food
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stores is the weighing-machine. If this indicates a
less total than from twenty-five to thirty pounds, it
will be advisable to supply syrup till the requisite
weight is attained. With bar-frame hives an examination
of the state of affairs is perfectly easy,
and there is no difficulty in removing combs which
are quite empty, and are not needed for the clustering
of the bees. Those which are left should each contain
six or seven inches square of sealed honey, some
two square feet, as a total, being considered about
the proper quantity for a fairly strong stock to
winter on.
For ascertaining the state of the hives in autumn,
there should be an inspection of them about the
middle of September; and, if necessary, the feeding
should then be begun. It may be continued through
October, but not later; otherwise there are dangers to
be incurred. The first is, lest the evaporation of a
certain amount of water from the stored syrup should
not take place, and consequently, being left unsealed
in the cells, it should ferment, and produce dysentery
among the bees. The second is, lest there should not
be sufficient warmth in the hive for the elaboration
of the wax needed for sealing the filled cells; in
which case, also, dysentery is likely to occur, when
the immatured syrup is consumed.
Syrup given in autumn must be thicker than
that supplied in spring, and should be made of five
pounds of sugar to one quart of water, a table-spoonful
of vinegar being added, and the mixture
well, but carefully, boiled.
Sometimes, when bee-keepers have neglected the
feeding of their stocks till late in autumn, they
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try to atone for their remissness by giving a supply
of flour-cake—a baked mixture of sugar and pea-meal—on
the top of the frames. This practice is
not advisable, as the nitrogenous food is almost
certain to stimulate breeding; and if this happens
when the temperature is too low for the development
of eggs and larvæ, great mischief may be done.
The danger from this source will be very much in
proportion to the weakness of the stock.
If proper attention has been given to the bees in
autumn, they should be left quite undisturbed during
the winter; for each time of excitement causes a
considerable consumption of honey, to make up for
the exertion to which the insects have been aroused.
There is, also, the risk of chilling the hive, and
lowering the temperature to a point fatal to many
of its inhabitants. If, however, it becomes known
to the bee-keeper that any stock is in a starving
condition, no liquid food must be given, but barley-sugar,
or sugar-cake, may be laid on the frames.
One evil of the former of these is, that it is apt to
deliquesce faster than the bees can consume it, and
running down the combs, makes a mess; while, if
supplied too sparingly, it will not afford enough
nourishment to the whole population to avert their
starving. To obviate these dangers, it has been
recommended to let it liquefy to a condition of
toughness, and then, having put it into a bottle
tied over the mouth with close canvas, to supply
it in the same way as syrup.
Mr. Hunter gives the following directions for
making sugar-cake, of a kind superior to barley-sugar
of the shops for bee-feeding purposes:—
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"Break up three pounds of loaf-sugar, place it in
a saucepan or preserving-pan and pour half a pint of
cold water upon it and half a wine-glass of vinegar.
These are all the ingredients required. Prepare a
fire in a grate, the top bar of which will let down in
a similar way to that in an ordinary kitchen grate,
taking care, however, that, at the commencement of
the operation, the bar is up in its place, and the grate
full to the top with glowing cinders or wood embers,
so that a great heat may be obtained without any
flame. Place upon the fire the saucepan containing
the sugar, and stir it without ceasing. In a few
minutes it will begin to assume the character of dirty
broth, which will have anything but a nice appearance,
but presently a thick scum will rise, and the
mass will try to boil over. As soon as this is
observed the saucepan should be removed from the
fire, until the ingredients have cooled a little, when it
should be set on the grate again, in such a way
that only a small part of it is over the fire. The
boiling will then go on on the exposed side, and as
the ebullition takes place the scum will be forced to
the side not over the fire, whence it may easily be
removed with a spoon. Thus, the saucepan is held
in the left hand, the spoon in the right, and the
saucepan being on the left-hand side of the grate,
with its right side exposed to the action of the fire,
the scum will retreat to the left or cooler side, and
will be in the handiest position for removal, as will
be evident in a few minutes to any one trying it.
After a quarter of an hour of this treatment the
mixture will have become in a great degree clarified,
when it should be removed from the fire while the
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top bar of the grate is let down, so as to permit of its
nearer approach to a greater heat. Should there be
any irregularity of the fire, it should now be corrected,
but flame should be prevented, as the mixture, having
parted with its water, will be liable to take fire if
brought into contact with flame. It will be well
here to remark that so long as the scum remains on
the syrup there was a tendency in the whole to boil
over, since the water evolved in the form of steam
while the boiling was going on, accumulating in a
body, would lift the scum above the saucepan to
enable it to escape, but when the scum was gone
the water would be evolved in bubbles of steam,
which would crackle but not boil over unless a very
intense heat were applied. The duration of the
boiling of the clarified syrup, before it becomes
liquid barley-sugar, will depend upon the amount of
heat and the consequent evolution of water to which
it is subjected; but trials may from time to time be
made by dropping a little on some cold surfaces, to
see if it becomes brittle, and when that state is arrived
at it is done. Pour it into a tin dish, set it in a dry
cool place until it becomes hard, and then', by striking
the tin on its under side, the whole of the barley-sugar
will be splintered into fragments, when it may be
placed in bottles and corked up for use as required."
We have thought it advisable to quote these
directions in extenso, as the feeding material thus
made is cheaper—by about half the cost—than what
is bought in shops, and being, moreover, not twisted
like ordinary barley-sugar, it can more conveniently
be placed on the top of frames, or over the feeding-hole
of a skep.
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The deliquescence of solid sugar-food is a source
of some trouble. It may, in part, be obviated by
laying the cake on coarse canvas, which will keep
pieces from falling between the combs, and will help
to delay liquid drops till the bees can consume them.
But the most effectual plan to be rid of all these
inconveniences, is to see to the proper amount of
food being stored in the hives by the end of
October.
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CHAPTER XXII.
WINTERING BEES.
False and True Hybernation—Temperature of Hive in Winter—Necessity
for Quiet during Winter—Structure and Winter-packing
of Bar-Frame Hives—Prevention of Draught and
Condensation of Vapour—Supply of Water.
The honey-bee differs from nearly all the wild
varieties, as well as from hornets and wasps, in being
adapted to live always in societies. Most other
insects of the hymenopterous order become torpid
in winter, or perish, with the exception of some
queens, who survive to continue the race. Those
which really hybernate are able to endure a considerable
degree of cold; and, thawing under the
influence of warmth, they can resume the functions
of life. It is not so, however, with bees. Queens
alone would be quite unable to continue the race, as
they could neither build comb, nor supply food to
the larvæ, nor keep up the heat required for the
development of the young. For all these purposes,
workers in considerable numbers are necessary. But
this very concourse implies the production of heat
by respiration; and, as a matter of fact, we find that
all through the coldest weather of winter a temperature
of over 60° Fahr. is maintained in the hive. As
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a result of this, bees do not really hybernate, or
even become dormant. When cold is very intense,
they maintain a constant tremulous motion, as if
they knew that the expenditure of muscular fibre
would, by the consequent oxygenation, cause the
evolution of heat; or, as if cognisant of the most
modern theories of "heat as a mode of motion,"
they were aware that the very flapping of their
wings would tend to raise the temperature of their
dwelling.
A bee is chilled by a less degree of warmth than
50° Fahr.; and if actually frozen, or exposed to cold
at or near the freezing point of water, it cannot be
revived. These facts have a very important bearing
on the art of apiculture. For, in the first place, it
may easily be understood that, if bees are tempted
abroad by sunshine in winter, or when a bitter wind
is blowing, they may perish by hundreds, through
becoming torpid with cold while resting a few
minutes in some shade, or by being chilled in the ungenial
air. For this reason it is advisable to shelter
hives from the mid-day and afternoon sun, as the
danger just alluded to increases with the lateness of
the hour at which the bees may be enticed abroad
by the sunshine.
Then, secondly, it must be remembered that, as
the bees are animate all through the winter, a constant
consumption of stores is going on, and that
disastrous consequences may ensue from mistaken
notions as to their remaining torpid, and needing
no more food than do hybernating dormice or
polar bears.
Thirdly, as an easy deduction from the foregoing
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facts, everything which stirs the bees to activity,
such as supplying fresh food, or disturbing the
hives for any other purpose, means an increased
consumption of nutriment, proportional to the activity
aroused.
Fourthly, any general excitement in cold weather,
leading to the wandering of individuals from the
cluster, entails the risk of their being chilled, and
rendered so inactive as not to be able to return
to the warmest part of the hive, and consequently
perishing.
These facts further suggest the importance of
taking measures to prevent, as far as possible, the
escape of warmth from the hive. Various precautions
are adopted for this purpose. The straw skep
is, in itself, a bad conductor of heat, and if made
thick and strong, will usually enable the bees to
maintain a sufficiently high temperature. Still, in
excessively cold seasons, it is advisable to wrap
straw hives round with matting, sacking, or some
other material, in order still further to guard against
chilling.
With bar-frame hives several points should be
attended to. In the first place, it is a great advantage
to have their walls double, with an air-space
between them. It is even better to fill this space
with cork-dust, saw-dust, bran, or chaff, to prevent any
circulation of air between the outer and inner walls.
Then, it is important to remove empty combs at
the beginning of the cold season, and to confine the
bees in as small a space as possible, so that their
number, constantly diminishing in winter, may suffice
to keep up the necessary temperature.
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Again, it is of some moment to see that there are
no considerable apertures in the coverings of the
frames, or in the corners of the hive, by which a
current of warm air out of, and cold air into, the
hive may be set up.
Once more, if cushions of chaff be placed behind
the frames, to fill up some of the empty parts of the
hive, an additional security will be furnished against
the lowering of the temperature.
In order still further to prevent separation from
the cluster, and unnecessary activity, the most skilled
apiarians recommend that, in autumn, holes should
be made through the combs, near their tops, to serve
as passages from one to another, as they are emptied
of honey, without the necessity of the bees going
down to the bottoms of the combs, in order to reach
the other sides or different combs.
Another point of great importance in wintering
bees, is the prevention of the moisture, produced by
their breathing, from condensing in the hive. It
should either be allowed to escape by upward ventilation,
as strongly recommended by Langstroth, or
by laying over the frames of wooden hives a porous
material, which at the same time prevents the escape
of heat. Light matting, covered with thicknesses of
house-flannel or old blanketing, will answer the
purpose very well. The constant evaporation from
the upper surface will prevent dampness to any
serious degree in the lower thicknesses of material.
For ourselves, we prefer the method which most
effectually prevents the escape of heat, while also
securing that vapour shall not be unduly condensed.
The question of ventilation, especially in winter,
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is still under debate. It is alleged, on the one hand,
that it must be of advantage to get rid of all products
of respiration, and that this can only be done
effectually, by leaving a passage for the air supposed
to be vitiated by the breathing of the bees. On the
other hand, it is asserted, and the fact is incontrovertible,
that the insects themselves most sedulously
stop every crack and cranny, above all, in the tops
of their hives; and seem to strive, by all means in
their power, to prevent the escape of air, which
would carry away warmth. The argument is that
their natural instinct is certain to be right that it
can only have arisen, or been bestowed, for the
benefit of the bees. We must acknowledge there is
great force in this reasoning; and we prefer, therefore,
to secure both the theoretical point relating to
sufficient ventilation, and the practical recognition of
the preference of the bees for complete coverings,
by using the materials we have recommended above,
leaving no apertures for the direct escape of air and
warmth at the top of the hives.
The German apiarians lay considerable stress on
the necessity of supplying the stocks with water so
long as any breeding is going on. Von Berlepsch
and G. Eberhardt, in an article in the Bienenzeitung,
write as follows: "The Creator has given the bee an
instinct to store up honey and pollen, which are not
always to be procured, but not water, which is always
accessible in her native regions. In northern latitudes,
when confined to the hive, often for months together,
they can obtain the water they need only from the
watery particles contained in the honey, the perspiration
which condenses on the colder parts of
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the hive, or the humidity of the air which enters
their hives.
"Vital energy in the bee is at its lowest point in
November and December. If, at this time, an unusual
degree of cold does not force her to resort to
muscular action, she remains almost motionless, a
deathlike silence prevailing in the hive; and we know
by actual experiment, that much less food is consumed
than at any other time. Breeding having
ceased, the weather-bound bees have no demands
made on their vital action, and we have never known
them at this time suffer from want of water. As
soon, however, as the queen begins to lay, which
occurs in many colonies early in January, and in
some by Christmas, the workers must eat more freely,
both of honey and pollen, to supply jelly for the
larvæ, and wax for sealing their cells. Much more
water is needed for these purposes than when they
can procure the fresh nectar of flowers, and the want
of it begins to be felt about the middle of January.
The unmistakable signs of the dearth of water in a
colony, are found in the granules of candied honey
on the bottom of the hive." These authors go on
further to say: "After protracted and severe winters,
of every six bees that perish, five die for want of
water, and not, as was hitherto supposed, from undue
accumulation of fæces. Dysentery is one of the
direct consequences of water-dearth, the bees in dire
need of water consuming honey immoderately, and
taking cold by roaming about the combs."
In our climate there is, usually, throughout the
winter such an abundance of moisture in the air,
that the point of complete saturation is often reached,
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and, except in very exceptional seasons, there will
be little need to supply water to the hive before
March. As a precautionary measure, however, we
see no reason why some may not be given earlier, if
great care is taken against its escape among the
combs. For safety on this point, it would be best to
give it in shallow troughs or pans at the bottom of
the hive.
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CHAPTER XXIII.
BEE-STINGS.
Gentleness necessary in Manipulation—Causes of Irritation of
Bees—Examination of Stocks—Treatment of Stings—Remedies—Effects
of Stings—Inoculation—Bee Dress—Smoke and its Uses.
There are some personal requisites, in addition to
what is called "bee-dress," if immunity from attack
is to be secured. The first of these are, calmness and
self-control. Many persons become so much alarmed
by a single bee buzzing about them, that they begin
fighting and buffeting the insect, with the idea of
driving it away. No surer method can be devised
for inciting its anger and its persistent efforts to
wound. If, on the other hand, perfect quietness is
maintained, it will rarely happen that a buzzing bee
will sting. When mischief is really meant, the attack
is usually delivered with great speed and directness.
Even if stung, it is much the best policy to be as
self-possessed as possible, lest violent movements
and angry acts should invite other bees to use their
weapons; and they are the more likely to do so, if
the first offender be crushed; for the smell of the
sting poison and of murdered comrades readily stirs
the wrath of the insects.
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As a rule, those who are accustomed to manipulate
hives gently and fearlessly, may do so without the
protection of veil and gloves. We have, however,
mentioned the exceptional cases of persons who
appear to be naturally offensive to bees; and such
individuals must either clothe themselves against
the possibility of being stung, or altogether avoid
apiculture.
It is also true that, under some circumstances, bees
become, like human beings, unaccountably irritable;
and then it is better to keep at a safe distance from
them, or to approach them clad in bee-dress. It is
especially maddening to them to become entangled
in the hair of the head or face, and if one of them
has unwarily thus ensnared itself, it is advisable to
extricate it as speedily as possible, or it will assuredly
inflict a wound.
Woollen gloves, and some kinds of leather ones,
seem also to be very objectionable to the insects;
anything, in fact, which obstructs their freedom of
motion, immediately throws them into a passion.
One simple, but very necessary precaution, is, to
avoid breathing upon them, when observing them or
examining the combs of a bar-frame hive. Blowing
at them infuriates them, and they will savagely
fly at the face of any one attempting it. Particular
electrical conditions of the atmosphere are said to
make them irascible. On very hot days, also, they
are liable to get out of temper; and showery weather,
which drives them frequently home from work,
appears to put them in bad humour.
Again, if they have lost their queen, or if she is
absent on her nuptial excursion, or if any other event
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has thrown a hive into excitement, the workers will
be likely to show their feeling by some passionate
onslaught on the innocent onlooker. There is no
disguising the fact that they are very quick-tempered
creatures, and often act with an utter want of discrimination
in the matter of stinging.
The time most suitable for the examination of
stocks, and for any other processes of manipulation,
is when the weather is fine, without being sultry or
oppressive, and when very large numbers of the older
bees are out at work. It is these who are most pugnacious,
the young ones being comparatively gentle.
If several, or even one, apparently intent on
mischief, should angrily buzz round, the best plan is
to thrust one's head into some bush. This, for the
most part, baffles the assailant, who seems unable to
find its intended victim, and very soon flies away.
When actually stung, the first thing to be done is
to extract the weapon, which the unfortunate insect
almost invariably tears out of its body, with the
poison-bag and muscles, as it flies off. If left in the
flesh, the muscles, by their automatic action, drive
the barbs in deeper and deeper, the poison also
flowing more copiously into the wound. Directly
the sting is removed, avoid all rubbing of the part
affected, but at once press upon the puncture a hollow
key, taking care that the exact spot pierced comes in
the centre of the opening of the key-tube. By this
means the poison will be prevented from extending in
the surrounding capillaries, and from being carried to
the neighbouring parts. Moreover, some of the acrid
matter will be squeezed out, and so comparatively
little inconvenience will follow. The pain will be much
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relieved if a strong solution of ammonia be forthwith
applied; or, failing this, carbonate of soda or of potass,
all of which alkaline substances will counteract the
acid poison. Should none of these be at hand, bathing
with cold water, after the use of the key, will wash
away the liquid squeezed out, and will dilute what
remains in the wound. The application of dry earth
is also recommended, and may do good, both by
absorbing any of the fluid expressed from the
puncture, and by its alkaline reaction destroying
the potency of the poison.
There is, indeed, a long catalogue of remedies
vaunted by various apiarians as certain palliatives, if
not absolute cures, of the pain and swelling induced
by the stings of bees. Among these may be enumerated
the following: the juice of the ripe berry of
the honeysuckle; the milky liquid of the white
poppy stalk; the juice of tobacco; the leaves of the
plantain, or of the dock, bruised and applied to the
wound. Bevan recommends spirits of hartshorn,
of which ammonia is the chief component. Sliced
onion or leek is very strongly praised as an antidote
by some writers in our bee journals.
The principles of chemistry undoubtedly point to
alkaline solutions as the proper kind of application.
There can be no doubt that the poison is acid in its
reaction. Any one may test this by collecting a
drop or two, and putting the liquid on to litmus-paper.
The characteristic change of the blue colour
to red will, at once, indicate the nature of the substance.
Consequently, the natural neutraliser of its
properties will be an alkali of some sort.
Should faintness and prostration come on in
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consequence of one or more stings, as happens in the
case of certain constitutions, smelling-salts (ammonia),
or other usual stimulants to the nervous system and
heart-action, must be applied, and medical aid should
be summoned; but the cases in which such steps
become necessary are comparatively rare. Certainly
not one person in a thousand need be terrified from
bee-keeping by the fear of serious consequences from
being stung.
It is true the effects of the poison are, in most
cases, very unpleasant, severe pain being felt for a few
minutes, succeeded later by swelling, smarting, and
irritation; but these symptoms soon subside, and
leave no ill consequences. Moreover, it is a well-ascertained
fact that, after numerous stings, some
effect is produced on the blood—a sort of inoculation—which
renders the result of the poison less and less
severe. Many bee-keepers, indeed, pay almost no
attention to punctures from their pets, as pain and
swelling are quite insignificant in their cases. Herr
Klein, in fact, recommends apiarians to get purposely
stung, so that, as speedily as possible, they may secure
to themselves this immunity from discomfort. We
doubt whether many persons will have the hardihood
to accept his advice, or will consider such a violently
homœopathic remedy less objectionable than an
occasional attack of the malady.[9]
Our advice, on the contrary, is that the bee-keeper,
especially if timid about being stung, should take
all reasonable precautions against attack. For this
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purpose he should provide himself with a bee-dress,
consisting of a sort of bag of black net, which will
slip over the head and shoulders, and may be fastened
round the waist by an elastic band. It should
be large enough to admit of wearing a hat with a
tolerably broad brim. This will cause the veil to
stand away from the face sufficiently to prevent
any angry bee from getting at the flesh. Sleeves
of black calico should be attached to it, and may be
secured at the wrists by tying, or by elastic bands.
Such a dress is best worn without a coat but over
a waistcoat, as greater coolness and freedom of movement
will thus be attained. The hands may be protected
by cotton or india-rubber gloves, and the
sleeves should be fastened over these round the
wrists. If, in conducting any extensive manipulations,
bees, half-stupefied or weak from their youthfulness,
are likely to be crawling about the ground,
it is advisable to tuck the trousers inside the boots,
or to tie them round the ankles, or in some way
to prevent the ascent of any insects beneath the
clothes.
Thus protected, the novice may, with perfect confidence,
conduct such operations among his hives as
he may deem necessary. He should be careful, however,
not to let his security induce any roughness or
carelessness in handling the insects or their combs
and hive-frames. As much quietness and gentle
treatment should be used, as if freedom from attack
depended entirely on such methods; for, it is certain
that by great tenderness in handling, bees become
accustomed to those who have to do with them;
whereas, a hive once enraged by accidental or rough
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manipulation will remain ill-tempered and passionate
for a long period, and will consequently become very
difficult to deal with. If, by any means, a stock has
thus been excited, it is advisable to leave it alone,
and let it quiet down as speedily and thoroughly
as possible.
The use of smoke must not be forgotten, as one of
the most potent means of controlling the passion of
bees, and causing them to gorge themselves, in which
condition of repletion they are much better-tempered
than under any other circumstances.
Various kinds of "smokers" are in use among
apiarians, and different substances to be burnt for
producing the smoke are recommended. Among the
former we may mention the apparatus of Messrs.
Abbott of Southall, Neighbour of London, and Blow
of Welwyn, Herts: while brown paper, old sacking,
touchwood, puff-ball, rags moistened with a solution
of nitre and dried, will afford sufficiently satisfactory
means of fumigating stocks. Bee-keepers will
find a few vigorous puffs of tobacco very effectual
in alarming the bees, and driving them to fill their
honey-bags. There will, however, be some risk of
being stung, as one cannot conveniently smoke with
a veil on, and where lengthened manipulations are
required, it is often necessary to repeat the fumigating
process, if the bees seem recovering from their
first dose, or if many, absent at its administration,
have returned to their homes while these are being
disturbed. We recommend, therefore, the presence
of some kind of fumigating apparatus in every apiary,
and in the selection of one it will be found very convenient
to have amongst its advantages the ability
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of retaining in a smouldering condition, by a gentle
through-draught, the materials inserted for burning.
The "smoker" should always be properly filled
with the stuff from which smoke is to be generated,
and smouldering should go on continuously in the
material when laid aside in the intervals of more
active use. Great trouble and inconvenience arise
from having repeatedly to re-light the paper, rag, or
other articles used. One means of obviating this,
is to stand the apparatus point upwards, when the
funnel will act as a chimney, and aid in keeping up
a quiet current of air.
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CHAPTER XXIV.
PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS OF BEES.
Affection for Queen and Brood—Recognition of Friends and
Strangers—Fear—Anger—Covetousness—Benevolence—Remorse—Hope—Instinctive
or Sense-action.
Certain difficulties surround the question of the
emotions exhibited by the lower orders of animals;
since it is easy for imagination, or, at least, the
interpretative faculty of observers, to lend so special
a colouring to actions, that the significance given
to appearances will vary exceedingly, according to
the subjectivity of the individual recording and explaining
phenomena. There can, however, be little
doubt that a feeling of affection exists between the
workers and the queen, and is reciprocally manifested.
The symptoms of distress at the loss of the
hive-mother; the reverent attention paid to her by
her special attendants; the joy at her restoration
after temporary removal; resentment shown to a
substitute while any hope of recovering their rightful
monarch remains; the devoted following of her when
a swarm issues, all tend unmistakably, we think, to
show that genuine love is the bond between the undeveloped
females and the one fully developed in the
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community. As to the drones, we can give credit to
one only—the royal spouse—for any share in this
emotion, and, indeed, we should be inclined to place
the one exception in a different category.
As to affection for all belonging to one community,
the facts are very conflicting. In the first place,
drones appear to have the entrée of any stock. We
can see that the obvious benefit of cross-breeding is
thus more likely to be secured; but it is impossible to
imagine this advantage to influence the bees. Again,
the manifest hostility shown by one colony of
workers to individuals from any other, is doubtless
the result of the fear of stores being robbed; while
drones are allowed free passage, because they do not
transfer honey from one hive to another, and take no
more than suffices for their personal needs. But,
while there is no doubt of exclusiveness being shown
by the workers towards other workers, we have little
evidence of any actual affection existing among the
members of the same community. It is true that
the crushing of one bee enrages others who become
aware of the circumstance, but the anger is probably
the result of fear of further destruction, rather than
grief at the loss of a friend. The death of individuals
in the ordinary course of nature, does not seem to
excite any emotion beyond the desire to get rid of
the body, which is unceremoniously taken in the
jaws, aided by the legs, of some enterprising survivor,
carried to a distance from the hive, and then let fall.
Bees never attempt to extricate co-workers from imprisonment
in spider-webs, or from any other difficulty
into which they have fallen.
We must, however, acknowledge that an intense
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affection for the developing brood is shown by the
workers. It matters not whether the combs containing
it belong to their own hives or to others.
They will cluster upon the cells to maintain the
required warmth, will supply the larvæ with food, and
render every attention required by the young. When
the offspring have come forth, some rather rough,
but manifestly kindly meant offices, are performed,
in clearing away the remains of the cocoon, combing
out the imperfectly expanded wings, &c., but
loving care ceases with the need for it; and, in adult
life, the most we can predicate is a placid indifference
to each other's presence, unless, indeed, anger should
be aroused by some accident, when a more or less
serious battle will take place.
That bees are susceptible of fear we have made
evident in what has been said about the effect produced
on them by smoke, by drumming, and by any
sharp vibration of their combs.
The passion of anger is decidedly prominent in
their nature. It is, indeed, apt to rise to an uncontrollable
degree on very slight provocation, particularly,
as we have mentioned, under certain conditions
of weather, and especially of temperature. Moreover,
the exhibition of it is frequently unrestrained
by the fact that the use of the sting generally means
the death of the aggressor, owing to the impossibility
of withdrawing the barbed weapon, without tearing
away part of the vital organs also.
Covetousness is also a powerful emotion with these
insects. We have already spoken of the dangers of
allowing bees a taste of sweets from other hives than
their own, and of the almost ineradicable longing for
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the honey stored in other communities, if once pilfering
has begun. And yet we can hardly ascribe sheer
selfishness as the motive for robbing. We see, in
fact, that the life of the worker is one long series of
labours on behalf of a progeny not its own, and for a
community in which its own existence is of very
short duration. While, therefore, we allow that there
is shown a desire to avoid honest toil, if dishonest
courses will yield supplies more readily, still we must
admit that the good, not of the individual but of
the state, is the actually impelling principle of the
plunderer. The amount of infatuation shown in the
eagerness of bees for sweets is well described by Dr.
Langstroth: "No one can understand the extent of
it until he has seen a confectioner's shop assailed
myriads of hungry bees. I have seen thousands
by strained out from the syrup in which they had
perished, thousands more alighting even upon the
boiling sweets, the floor covered and the windows
darkened with bees, some crawling, others flying, and
others still so completely besmeared as to be able
neither to crawl nor fly—not one in ten able to carry
home its ill-gotten spoils, and yet the air filled with
new hosts of thoughtless comers." They appear,
indeed, unable to perceive the disasters of companions,
and rush heedlessly on to destruction, the
victims of which lie all around them.
From what has been previously said, it will be seen
that we cannot with any show of reason assign to bees
such complex emotions as benevolence or remorse.
They are incapable, on the one hand, of appreciating
the combination of circumstances involved in the distress
or need of a friend, and the means of aid suitable
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for relief; and, on the other, having apparently no
distinct knowledge of how the doing or omission of
any action will affect other individuals, they cannot
be sensible of regret or satisfaction in having done,
or neglected to do, any specific deed.
We might, probably, with equal assurance deny
to bees the possession of hope. It is true they
prepare combs, store honey and pollen, attend upon
the queen when laying, and carefully nurture the
larvæ, as if they anticipated the rearing of a progeny;
but it is difficult to conceive that these various duties
are carried out with any definite notion of the future.
We incline rather to the belief that a series of sensations
promotes a corresponding series of actions,
the combination, correspondence, and harmonising of
which, for the general welfare, is wrought out by laws
of which we know nothing, or, we would much rather
say, by the operation of the infinite and Divine Will,
without the direct control of which we cannot imagine
this complex universe could hold on its way. Nor
need we hesitate to assign its working to such comparatively
insignificant objects as hives of bees, when
we have the emphatic declaration of our Lord that
not one sparrow lights upon the ground for its food
without the knowledge of God; that He feeds the
ravens, clothes the lilies with beauty, and numbers
the very hairs of our heads.
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CHAPTER XXV.
INTELLECT AND INSTINCT IN BEES.
Intellect in Man and Animals as Related to Immortality—Memory—Judgment—Instances
of Attention—Prevision—Provision—Instinct—Manifestations—Bearing
on Evolution.
There has been a singular unwillingness on the
part of many religious writers to acknowledge among
animals inferior to man the possession of true intellectual
faculties. This has arisen, partly from the
desire to keep man on a pedestal immensely exalted
above the rest of the creatures more or less allied to
him, and partly from the fear that the concession of
high faculties might seem to imply the immortality
of all living beings or of none.
The first of these reasons which have influenced
writers may be dismissed with the remark, that the
position of superiority which man has held, and more
than ever holds, depends, not entirely upon his
powers of mind, but upon a combination of faculties,
physical, mental, moral, and, above all, spiritual; so
that there need be no grudging of endowments of
intellect to other creatures on earth beside ourselves.
As to the second point, we see no necessity to consider
that it supplies a dilemma. Man and all other
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animals may be immortal, for aught we know; or
man may, according to current opinion, stand alone
in this respect; but the yea or nay of the question
need not rest upon the foundation of the gift of
intellect. We know, indeed, so little of the actual
connection between mind and body, the senses and
the intellect, that it becomes quite unsafe to base
upon our knowledge any theories as to the conscious
possession of power when the body ceases to live.
The discussion of this subject must rest on other
and higher grounds altogether, and so will lie outside
the limits of our work. But we may well inquire
how far true intellectual processes go on in bees.
And the best way to do this will be to take some
of the strictly intellectual faculties, and see whether
they really exist among these insects.
Firstly, with regard to memory. Without entering
upon theories as to the simple or complex nature of
the means by which we recall feelings, events, sensations,
or ideas, we may take it for granted that
memory is a sign and an attribute of considerable
mental endowment. Now that bees distinctly remember,
there can be not the slightest doubt. Whatever
may be our opinion as to the faculty by which
they find their way back to their hives from long
distances, there is clear evidence of their recollecting
particular places, in the circumstance that, for a day
or two after the securing of a swarm, certain bees
will hover round the spot from which the hiving
took place. Again, it is possible to train these insects
to come day after day to a particular place,
by supplying them with food under conditions in
which their senses of sight and smell would not
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inform them of its continued presence. Moreover,
after being seriously disturbed, a stock appears to
remember, for many days, the molestation, and to
be eager to resent further intrusion, unless peaceable
behaviour is strongly enforced by smoke or an
anæsthetic.
Secondly, as to judgment. This involves the previous
conception of two ideas at least, the comparison
of these, or their connection, at all events, and a decision
founded on their connection. That these processes
take place in the bee-mind, we are apparently
warranted in concluding from several circumstances
to which allusion has already been made. Let us
recall, for instance, the fact that if, owing to an
unusual influx of honey, the attachments of the
combs seem insufficiently strong to bear the weight
dependent on them, the workers proceed to make a
new connecting layer, at the top of the hive, and of
greater holding power. This they do by gnawing
away the original one, and replacing it, one side at a
time, by new work, the security of which is assured
before the other side is proceeded with. Now, in
this case there is a perception of an unusual, or, at
least, an unexpected influx of stores, as well as of
a certain strength being required to sustain the
weight of them. Furthermore, there is a calculation,
or comparison, founded on the two perceptions
or conceptions, and an act of decision resulting
from such comparison—apparently a clear case of
judgment.
Again, let us revert to the manufacture of queens
by the workers. If at the time of the removal or
loss of the mother-bee in any way, there should be
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unhatched princesses in the hive, no attempt will be
made to follow the course adopted in the absence
of such royal progeny. In the latter case—i.e. when
there is no royal brood—there must be a distinct
conception, first of their bereavement; secondly, of
the hopelessness of a sovereign appearing in the
ordinary way. Then a judgment is formed of the
proceedings necessary for making a queen, and
action immediately follows. Not only so, but, as
if to secure themselves against the repetition of
their calamity, they prepare not one queen only, but
several, so that, if the first which comes to maturity
be lost, there may be others in reserve. A further
act of definite judgment appears in this; for, if one
only were produced and lost, they would be powerless
to repeat the process, as all the rest of the
worker brood would, in the mean time, have advanced
far beyond the stage at which its transformation
would be possible. The bees, then, with
admirable prevision, forbear to risk all the future
of their community on one hope of a queen.
Once more, we may notice the remarkable fact that,
if a queen be removed or lost late in the summer, at
the time when the destruction of the drones is drawing
to a close, the males of that particular hive will be
spared as long as there is any hope that a royal
spouse may be needed. In this instance, too, we
have what seems a distinct judgment of the necessity
that there should be drones spared for the renewal
of the progeny of the stock, and their consequent
immunity from the death or banishment they would
have undergone in a community possessing a fertile
sovereign.
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Again, in the late summer, when supplies of honey
from the fields begin to fail, the workers, even in a
flourishing hive, will not only worry to death, or drive
away to destruction, all the males which are adult,
but will pull out of the cells the immature drones, and
carry them from the hive. In this case we have two
independent judgments. First, that, having a fertile
queen, but no probability of further swarming, no
raison d'être exists for the males among them; and
secondly, that the unhatched males would, on emerging
from the cells, be useless consumers of precious
stores, and consequently are better destroyed.
Numerous other evidences of judgment might be
adduced, such, for instance, as building drone-comb,
i.e. cells of large size, when unusual space is required
for quick storing of food, the different expedients
for repairing, refixing, and giving direction to combs,
in view of various difficulties to be encountered. But
we have said, we believe, sufficient to make good the
special point in question.
We might, perhaps, with advantage, have spoken
of the faculty of attention, i.e. the direction of the
mental powers to a particular end by the determinate
action of the will. At every moment we may see, in
a busy hive, evidences of this power. Indeed, in so
complex a community, where so many operations are
constantly going forward, where so many stages of
social development are being passed through, where
so many separate interests have to be regarded, and
where the harmonious co-operation of individuals is
of supreme importance to the general welfare, it is
impossible that this faculty of attention should be
wanting or unexercised.
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We have hinted at the prevision shown by bees.
Now, if this really exists in them, we must acknowledge
it to be one of the very highest endowments of
intellect It is that which in man removes him from
the sport of circumstances, and gives him large control
over his own earthly destinies. It is that which,
when applied to events more or less unascertainable
by the majority of men, proportionately awakes
their astonishment, and creates a reputation for ability
and high endowment. Now, that the faculty is possessed
by bees is, we think, evident from many considerations.
When, for instance, a hive has lost its
queen, and has no hope of a successor, despair comes
over the community, as the workers feel they have
no longer an object in their toil. They seem to foresee
the speedy end of their colony, and the consequent
uselessness of collecting stores, or proceeding
with comb-building.
Again, the destruction of the drones and drone-brood,
when no longer of possible service, implies a
knowledge that the males, if spared, will produce a
scarcity of food, by uselessly consuming the stores,
while the preservation, to a late period, of drones in a
hive whose queen is lost near the end of summer,
indicates a foresight of the possible need of males to
mate with a young queen, whose advent is hoped
for.
Without much risk of straining this line of argument,
we might consider the storage of honey and
bee-bread as a prevision, and not merely as a provision
for the needs of winter. In like manner, the
encasing in propolis of slugs, mice, or other intruders,
when dead in the hives, may be looked upon as a
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safeguard against expected putrefaction. The cessation
from grief for loss of a queen, when new royal
cells are preparing, may be regarded as evidence of
anticipated joy in a coming monarch. We acknowledge,
however, that here the dividing line between
reason and instinct becomes very narrow, and it is
exceedingly difficult to determine the strict limits of
either.
At this point, also, comes in the remarkable question
of heredity. The causes and determining circumstances
of this quality are at present very imperfectly
understood; nor is it probable that anything like a
complete explanation of the subject will be forthcoming.
That it is, however, a most potent element
in the subject of mental, as well as physical, characters
cannot be disputed. To it, in fact, the possession
of what we call instinct must be entirely
referred, though it leaves untouched the actual
nature of this endowment.
The definition of instinct is not a very simple matter,
but we may consider it as a power, appearing in
generation after generation of animals, by which, without
instruction, they perform certain actions, or series
of actions, tending to the welfare of the individual or
of the race. We usually regard the purely intellectual
operations as improvable by education. Instinct, on
the other hand, neither requires, nor, in general, is
aided by teaching. It is true that man has taken
advantage of certain qualities, apparently instinctive,
in particular animals, and has seemed to improve
them by schooling them, as, for instance, in the case
of pointers and setters among dogs; but it is rather,
as it appears to us, the mental processes of the
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creature, which have been controlled and modified,
and then the tendency to the reproduction of these
has been transmitted by heredity. Pure instinct we,
therefore, continue to regard as outside the plane of
education.
The faculty as exhibited by bees is most astonishing.
We have already enumerated many circumstances,
which evidently have had their origin in this
power, but we may well recall certain of these in
illustration of this point.
Firstly, then, the shaping of the cells with definite
and constantly repeated angles of the sides; the
arrangement of them, so that the base of each is
formed by the junction of the bottoms of three cells
on the opposite side of the comb; the preparation of
abodes suitable in size, and in other special respects,
for the larvæ of queens, drones, and workers; and the
careful transition from one to the other of the last
two—all these and other circumstances connected
with the construction of their dwellings, attest the
possession of an innate faculty needing no instruction
from the elders of the hive.
Again, the gathering, in due proportion and according
to varying needs, of honey, pollen, and propolis,
must be attributed to this same occult endowment.
The proper admixture of the different kinds
of food, adapted to the varying ages of the larvæ; the
preparation and administration of the "royal jelly,"
necessary for the development of queen-larvæ; the
covering of the cells with waxen lids of different
shapes, according to the nature of their contents
convex on the male cells, nearly flat on those of
workers, and somewhat concave on the honey stores—are
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other manifestations of an internal guide towards
useful labour.
Once more, the series of remarkable facts connected
with their respect and attention and service to
their sovereign; their treatment of queens introduced
into hives possessing a queen, or without one; the
permission, and even urging, of rival monarchs to
fight à outrance; the expedients adopted to repair, if
by any means it is possible, the loss of a queen—all
these facts point, still further, to a power, by whose
almost unerring operation extraordinary results are
secured for the well-being and the very continuance
of the race.
Nor is it easy to see how, on the principles of
evolution alone, this faculty can have been acquired;
for the remarkable point, and one apparently inexplicable
on the development-theory, is this, that the
two portions of the community alone concerned in
the actual propagation of the race are absolutely
without the special endowment of which we have
been speaking, at least so far as the particular
directions of its manifestation just mentioned enable
us to conclude. The queen among bees, unlike her
representative among wasps, is quite unable to
perform any of the processes preliminary to egg-laying.
She cannot secrete wax or build comb. She
cannot fly abroad to collect honey. She has no
means of gathering pollen. She can neither procure
nor use propolis. So helpless, indeed, is she, that,
bereft of attendants, she is unable to feed herself
sufficiently to maintain life. The drones, if not so
absolutely helpless, are equally incapable of all
constructive work, of the power of collecting honey,
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making wax, building comb, guarding the stores
against robbers, or even tending and nurturing the
young brood. We see, then, the endowments of
instinct in all their higher manifestations are conferred
alone on the members of the community who
cannot transmit them to posterity. Nor does the
fact of the occasional appearance of fertile workers at
all explain away the difficulty; for, as has been
shown, such abnormal mothers produce only male
offspring, which never inherit the special faculties of
the undeveloped females, and consequently cannot
transmit what they have never possessed.
If asked what solution of the difficulty we are
prepared to offer, we confess, with satisfaction, to the
retention of the undisproved theory that the Creator
has, in His own inscrutable, but all-beneficent, way,
specially gifted these insects with powers of a kind
adapted to the highest welfare of their race, as we
also believe He has given to other orders of beings,
from the ant up to man, and on to angels, faculties to
be used, not only for the benefit of the individual, the
species, or the genus, but for the harmonious working
of the universe He has called into being. To those,
at least, who rejoice to believe in a personal God,
who find an atheistic cosmos the most unthinkable
of notions; who see a thousand mysteries inexplicable
on any theory of unintelligent "natural
selection," the study of the honey-bee provides
reason for, and evokes the sentiment of, sublime
adoration of an infinite First Cause, i.e. the Deity.
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CHAPTER XXVI.
BEES IN RELATION TO FLOWERS.
Connection of Plant-life and Insect-life—Reproduction of Flowers—Intervention
of Insects—Hermaphrodite Flowers—Cross-fertilisation—Cucumbers,
Melons, &c.—Poplars—Firs—Epilobium
or Willow Herb—Cincerarias—Darwin's Experiments—Nasturtium—Foxglove—Figwort—Salvia—Heath—Strawberry,
Raspberry, and Blackberry—Apple and Pear—Altruism of Bees.
The connection between insects and the plant-world,
and the mutual benefits they render, have long been
known to man. While the one kingdom is almost
entirely dependent on the other for sustenance, and
this, not only as regards food, but for dwelling-places
also: the organic, but (so far as we can judge) inanimate,
one of the two, requires the aid of the
animate for the continued reproduction of many of
its members.
It would lead us too far from the subject of this
book to enter at all fully into the question of the
complete interaction of plant-life and insect-life. In
dealing with the relations of bees to flowers we shall,
therefore, confine our remarks almost entirely to the
important part played by these creatures in the
reproduction of certain kinds of plants.
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It may, perhaps, be necessary, previously to
entering on this subject, to say that in flowers we
have organs analogous to, though widely differing
from, those indicative of sex in the animal world.
The functions, at least, are the same; and the combined
action of the two sets is essential to the
propagation of the race by seed. Unless pollen from
the anthers is conveyed to the pistil, and, germinating
there, imparts to the ovules vivifying nourishment,
no seed will come to perfection, or will be capable of
growing. While most flowers are hermaphrodite, i.e.
produce both stamens (or anther-bearers) and pistils,
it happens, in not a few instances, that certain flowers
have anthers, and no pistils: while others, on the
same plant, have pistils, but no anthers. Again, the
antheriferous and pistiliferous flowers, in certain
species, are found on different individual plants, so
that, unless some agency were provided for the transference
of the pollen, these species would inevitably
die out. Now, the two means for this conveyance
are the wind and insects. It is evident that the
former can have only a very limited action, and would
need for its effective service a great abundance of any
particular flower, lest the fructifying grains should
become the mere sport of the breezes, and fail to
reach their all-important goal, and accomplish their
all-needful function.
Moreover, in many cases, the position of the
anthers in the flower entirely excludes the possibility
of any currents of air assisting in the carrying of the
pollen-dust to the pistil of the same or of different
flowers. Hence there is a necessity for the intervention
of insects; and that they may be induced to
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visit such flowers, and unconsciously effect the
essential operation of fertilising them, nectar is
secreted near the base of the stamens or the ovary,
or in some position which will involve, in the gathering
of it, the brushing off and conveying away of
some of the pollen-grains. It is, indeed, a remarkable
fact that fragrance and honey-bearing are
scarcely ever associated with plants which can easily
be wind-fertilised. Such flowers are, also, for the
most part, inconspicuous; while those which need
the agency of insects to aid in their reproduction are
bright in colour, sweet in perfume, and more or less
prolific in honey.
It must not be supposed, however, that even the
hermaphrodite, or double-sexed, flowers are independent
of the visits of bees and other insects. In
all of them cross-fertilisation, as Darwin has abundantly
proved,[10] is a most important factor in the
continued vitality of any species, and cross-breeding
gives an immense advantage in "the struggle for
existence," where the conditions of life are not wholly
favourable. Indeed, in many instances, special provision
has been made by the Creator against self-fertilisation:
in some cases, by the anthers and pistil
coming to maturity, in the same flower, at different
times; in others, by the placing of the stamens in
such a position relatively to the stigma (or top of the
pistil) that it is not possible for the pollen-grains of
the one set of organs to fall on the surface of the
other. It cannot but be interesting to give examples
of these various facts, and so to show the marvellous
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and necessary connection between the two kingdoms
of nature.
Firstly, then, as well-known instances of pistil-bearing
and stamen-bearing flowers occurring separately
on the same plant, we may mention cucumbers,
melons, marrows, et hoc genus omne. Now, when
these vegetables are grown under glass, whether in
greenhouses or in pits, to which bees and other
insects have little or no access, gardeners find it
necessary themselves to apply the pollen-bearing
portions of the one kind of flower to the pistil of
the other. If this is neglected to be done, the fruit
makes no progress, turns yellow, and dies. Where,
however, the plants are grown in the open air, or are
not so shut up as to exclude insects, they will be
fertilised without the intervention of man; for bees
of various kinds will certainly visit the flowers, and
carry the life-giving dust where it is needed. In fact,
we believe it might be asserted with confidence,
that in all plants, where this separation of, what we
may call, the sexes takes place, the flowers possess
special attractiveness to the tenants of our hives;
and it is well that this is the case, otherwise the
continued existence of such plants would be seriously
endangered.
As examples of diœcious genera, or those having
pollen-bearing flowers on one plant and pistiliferous
flowers on another, we may note the willows, the
poplars, and the firs; and it is remarkable that these
all are special favourites with bees. In the early
spring, when breeding has been going on in the
hives, and when the demands of the advancing larvæ
require considerable supplies of pollen, the catkins
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of the willow are abundantly visited, and the diffusion
of their fertilising powder is thus greatly promoted.
The same may be said about the poplar,
and, in all probability, the gathering of propolis from
trees of the fir-tribe makes the bee the unconscious,
but useful, instrument of carrying pollen from the
catkins to the cones, though, from the abundance of
the powder, and the openness of the scales of the
cones r the wind is a sufficiently effective agent for
its conveyance in this order of trees.
|
|
|
Fig. 70.—Epilobium Angustifolium. (Young bloom.) |
Fig. 71.—Epilobium Angustifolium. (Old bloom.) |
Passing next to cases in which the stamens and
pistils of the same flower come to maturity at different
times, so as to make cross-breeding a necessity,
we may mention first some plants in which the
pollen ripens before the stigma is ready to receive
it. We have such a condition of things in the willow-herb,
or epilobium tribe. The pretty pink blossoms
of a large variety of this genus are to be found, in
summer, along the banks of brooks and running
ditches. We will confine our remarks to the species
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distinguished by its narrow leaves, and hence named
angustifolium. When the flower has fully opened,
the eight stamens spread out, and their anthers shed
the pollen. Bees visit the blossoms, and getting dusted
with the grains, carry these away to other flowers of
the same kind. And here, in passing, we may recall
the fact of bees keeping to one species of plant
during the whole of any one journey from the hive.
The importance of this can be now better appreciated,
when its influence on the fructification of blossoms is
observed. But to return, the pistil of the willow-herb
remains, till the stamens have withered, curved
round out of the way, and unable to receive any of
their pollen. Then, after they are dead, it comes into
such a position that it can take what pollen may be
brought to it from younger flowers. For the conveyance
of this it is dependent chiefly on bees, who do
not fail to carry enough for the required purpose.
In this way each blossom, by the agency of these
insects, both gives and gets what is necessary for the
continued life of the species; and without these
unconsciously conferred benefits from insect life, no
seeds of this kind of epilobium would mature.
Another instance, equally interesting, is seen in
the well-known cineraria tribe. The plants of this
genus belong to the composite order, in which what is
usually called the blossom, consists of many flowers,
grouped together on one head. In the example before
us, there are nearly 200 thus aggregated. These florets
separately open at different times, those of the outer
circles coming before those nearer the centre. The
pollen-tube of each is formed by five anthers, fastened
together at their edges, and discharging their
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pollen into the space between them. At the lower
part of this inclosure the pistil is growing, but is not
in a condition to receive usefully the fertilising
powder. It, however, as it advances, sweeps out,
and carries up with it, the pollen-grains, so that they
may be conveyed to other florets of the same or
other blossoms, to effect their vitalising work. At
length the pistil, with its brush on its summit, comes
into view, but, even yet, is not sufficiently developed
for fertilisation. In due course, however, the upper
end splits, and exposes the surface of the stigma
ready for the pollen, which must be brought from
some other floret, and probably from some other
blossom. Thus cross-breeding is effectually secured.
Fig. 72.—Cineraria. (Magnified.)
Another point for attaining this end is worthy of
remark. The outer ring of florets is distinguished
by long, coloured petals, which make up, in common
parlance, the flower of the cineraria. These serve
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to render the composite head conspicuous, and
attractive to insects. Some varieties, moreover, emit
fragrant odours, and thus present further inducements
for visitation. It is remarkable that, in these florets of
the outer edge, the gay-coloured petals are developed
at the expense of the anthers. Consequently, they
produce no pollen, and their pistils have no brushes,
as there would be no office for them to perform.
The bright rays have accomplished their own special
purpose, and the florets may well depend on others
for pollen.
Now, as to the great importance of cross-fertilisation
in this species, we may quote the experiments
made by Dr. Darwin.[11] He says: "Two purple-flowered
varieties (of cineraria) were placed under
a net in the greenhouse, and four corymbs (or
bunches of flowers) on each were repeatedly brushed
with flowers from the other plant, so that their
stigmas were well covered with each other's pollen.
Two of the eight corymbs thus treated produced
very few seeds, but the other six produced on an
average 41.3 seeds per corymb, and these germinated
well. The stigmas on four other corymbs on both
plants were well smeared with pollen from the
flowers on their own corymbs; these eight corymbs
produced altogether ten extremely poor seeds, which
proved incapable of germinating. I examined many
flowers on both plants, and found the stigmas spontaneously
covered with pollen; but they produced
not a single seed. These plants were afterwards left
uncovered in the same house, where many other
cinerarias were in flower; and the flowers were
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frequently visited by bees. They then produced
plenty of seed, but one of the two plants less than
the other, as this species shows some tendency to
be diœcious.
"The trial was repeated on another variety with
white petals tipped with red. Many stigmas on two
corymbs were covered with pollen from the foregoing
purple variety, and these produced eleven and
twenty-two seeds, which germinated well. A large
number of the stigmas on several of the other
corymbs were repeatedly smeared with pollen from
their own corymb; but they yielded only five very
poor seeds, which were incapable of germination.
Therefore the above three plants, belonging to two
varieties, though growing vigorously and fertile with
pollen from either of the other two plants, were
utterly sterile with pollen from other flowers on the
same plant."
|
|
Fig. 73.—TropÅ“olum Majus.
(Young bloom.) |
Fig. 74.—TropÅ“olum Majus.
(Old bloom.) |
A condition similar to that described in the
cineraria is found in the nasturtium (Tropœolum
majus). In the young blossom may be observed the
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five stamens fully developed, while the stigma remains
quite out of their reach. Later, when all the pollen
is discharged from the anthers, the pistil throws
up its style and stigma, now ready for fertilisation,
which must be effected by the transfer of pollen from
some other blossom of the same or another plant
of the species. This transfer is effected, usually, by
the bees.
Another example of this non-coincidence in the
times of development of the stamens and pistil is
found in the foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), but the
fertilisation is effected by the larger humble-bees.
The two upper and longer stamens shed their pollen
before the two lower and shorter ones. This
arrangement partly avoids the risk of self-fertilisation,
while their position, which changes just when
the anthers are ripe, enables them to smear the
under side of any entering bee; while they also shed
their pollen abundantly on the thickly-set hairs
lining the mouth of the corolla. A second use is
served by these hairs, viz., that of obstructing the
entrance of the smaller kinds of bees, which could not
so effectually fertilise the ovules. The larger sorts,
in their raids upon the nectar, carry pollen from
flower to flower, thus in the best manner bringing
about the most desirable result of cross-breeding.
Passing now to plants in which the pistil develops
earlier than the stamens, we may note the knotted
figwort (Scrophularia nodosa). On making a section
of a recently opened flower, the style, with its stigma,
may be observed protruding just beyond the lip of
the corolla, while the stamens are hiding away, as it
were, in a little pouch below the entrance of the
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blossom. When fertilisation by pollen from another
flower has taken place, the pistil droops and withers;
while the anthers grow upwards to the mouth of the
corolla, and present their nectar to the honey-seekers,
for conveyance to other flowers of the species.
Fig. 75.—Section of Scrophularia Nodosa.
|
Fig. 76.—Scrophularia Nodosa.
(Young bloom.)
|
Fig. 77.—Scrophularia Nodosa.
(Old bloom.)
|
In the common sage (Salvia officinalis) we find a
very remarkable contrivance, by means of which the
anthers, through a sort of hinge-like connective, are
brought down on the back of a bee entering the
flower. The pollen thus discharged is carried by the
insect to other blossoms, in which the place of the
withered stamens has been occupied by the stigma
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now ready to receive the grains. Thus again inter-breeding
is secured.
Fig. 78.—Salvia Officinalis.
(New bloom.)
|
Fig. 79.—Salvia Officinalis.
(Old bloom.)
|
Fig. 80.—a. Erica Tetralix. b. Anther of Tetralix. |
The next figure represents the very curious
arrangement of the stamens in the Erica tetralix, or
common heath. These, eight in number, are seen
standing round the style, at about half its length.
Each is held by a long filament (only one of which
is shown in the figure), and is armed with a horn-like
process. When the anthers are ripe, the pollen
would escape from openings in their sides, were it
not that the little slits abut on each other. When,
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however, a bee visits the flower, and thrusts up her
proboscis, this strikes against one of the little horns,
and pulls apart its anther from the rest. Pollen then
drops on the bee's head, to be carried by it to other
blossoms, which, while receiving a portion brought
to them, in their turn give the bee a supply to carry
to other flowers. It is a very salutary thing for
the propagation of the heath that bees have such a
strong liking for its nectar, and are thus induced
to perform, albeit unconsciously, the process of
fertilisation.
Fig. 81.—Section of Strawberry Bloom.
In the strawberry the stigmas are ripe long before
the pollen is ready; and hence we understand why
the Creator has arranged that the nectar of these
blossoms should be so attractive to the bees, whose
visits are so necessary for the development of the
fruit. When fertilisation takes place, growth proceeds
in the ordinary manner, and with results so satisfactory
to mankind. Where pollen fails to fall on
any of the multitudinous stigmas, we have a shrunken,
hard, greenish mass. Any dish of strawberries will
show where this has happened. It is said that to
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produce one perfect specimen of the fruit, from 100
to 300 separate fertilisations must be effected.
In the raspberry and blackberry again, each drupel,
or little fleshy portion, of which very many make up
one so-called berry, has had its own stigma, which an
insect has visited; and hence again, we understand
how it is that the flowers have been so largely
endowed with nectar, as to entice the bees most
freely to visit them.
Fig. 82.—Section of Apple Bloom.
In apple and pear blossoms we have other instances
of the stigmas coming to maturity before the anthers;
and, therefore, they require the intervention of bees
for their fertilisation. Peaches, apricots, nectarines,
plums, greengages, and, we might almost venture to
assert, all our choicest and most valuable fruits, are
dependent for their perfection upon the busy searchers
after honey; and many a market-gardener would
greatly increase his chances of good crops of fruit,
were he to maintain a few stocks of bees in his
orchards, and allow access for the active workers to
his trees blossoming under glass-houses.
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From the vegetable world we might adduce many
other evidences of the marvellous interdependence of
the two great kingdoms of organic nature. Enough,
however, has been said to illustrate this point, and we
trust that some of our readers may be led to further
investigation in this field, which opens up such
wonders, and such pleasurable surprises, for all who
care to trace evidences of the Creator's infinite
resources, wisdom, and care for all that He has
made.
Everywhere, also, on earth may be seen at work
the grand law of self-sacrifice for others' needs. Very
many facts which we have detailed in the natural
history of bees, illustrate this most thoroughly. We
may, indeed, say that the life of a worker, who will
neither have progeny of her own, nor see many of
the race for whom she spends her powers, is one
continued offering of herself for the welfare of the
community. As the Latin poet says, Sic vos non
vobis, mellificatis apes; and thus these unselfish
toilers, beside teaching us many another lesson, seem
to foreshadow, and to lead our thoughts to, the
infinite gift of Him "who gave Himself for us" that
we in and through Him might have life.
God has written tokens of His wisdom and love
around us everywhere. None who reverently observe
any of His works can fail to see His attributes
embodied throughout all nature.
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CHAPTER XXVII.
SUPERSTITIONS CONNECTED WITH BEES.
Superstitions likely to gather around Bees—Unlucky to Buy Bees—Ill
Omen for a Swarm to Settle on a Dry Stick—"Have
the Bees been told?"—Turning Hives on the Death of the
Owner—Probable Origin of these Errors.
On a priori grounds it is only to be expected that
various superstitions would arise at different times
and in various countries with regard to bees. Insects
displaying such marvellous instincts, such apparent
adaptation of means to ends, such indications of
reasoning and special intelligence, were sure to be
credited with powers beyond those generally recognised
in them. Hence we may account for some of
the curious ideas about bees which have prevailed
in certain localities.
There are other notions, however, the origin of
which is more difficult to discover. Such, for
instance, is the prejudice among ignorant bee-keepers
against selling for coin swarms or stocks.
A purchase thus made is supposed to be likely to
lead to misfortune for one of the two parties concerned.
By some occult process, lying outside the
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range of reason or imagination, ill luck is thought
to be attracted by bargains of this sort.
A correspondent of the Journal of Horticulture
thus narrates the following incidents: "Last August
I purchased a swarm, for which I paid ten shillings.
So far as I could judge from my limited experience
with bees, for the first fortnight they appeared to be
doing well, but one night, about eight o'clock, I
found they had deserted the hive, and were on the
ground in a cluster the size of a large plate. I
gently lifted the hive and placed it over the cluster.
About ten o'clock I found most of the bees had gone
up into the hive, which I then returned to its stand.
For a short time the bees appeared to work, but one
day, thinking they appeared very quiet, I lifted the
hive, and discovered that it was quite empty of bees.
There were three nice pieces of empty comb. I
think the bees were teased by wasps. Our parishioners
tell me I did two things wrong, and that in
consequence my bees could not thrive. One was to
give money for them, which is always unlucky; the
other was, that I did not have them at the right
time of the year. I ought to have had them on
Old Christmas Day. Is there anything in these
ideas?"
The correspondent signed herself "A Clergyman's
Wife," and the explanation of her want of success was
not far to seek. She had been taken in by the
vendor of her bees. A poor swarm had been palmed
off upon her, and one so manifestly weak, and having,
so late in the comb-making and honey-gathering
time as August, only three small combs, was doomed
to perish with cold and starvation. The poor insects,
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as a forlorn hope, had deserted their hive for what
they trusted might be better quarters. The fallacy
of the coin having had anything to do with their
destruction, takes rank with the disinclination of some
people to accept from a friend the present of a pocket-knife,
unless the donor will take a halfpenny in exchange;
or with the old saying "Helping to salt is
helping to sorrow." We can hardly suppose that the
kindly sort of freemasonry, which now exists among
bee-keepers, has ever proceeded so far as to make
any one always willing to give his swarms or stocks
to another. If so, the benevolence once current has
degenerated into a willingness, even among the
devotees to the superstition of which we are speaking,
to accept full value in the way of barter if not in
cash. Whatever its origin, we feel satisfied the days
of this prejudice are numbered. With the immense
spread of apiculture now taking place experience and
common sense will sweep away this psychological
cobweb, as so many others have been made to disappear
under the same powerful agencies.
As to the other superstition about "Old Christmas
Day" being the proper time for procuring a stock,
the probability is that seasons sacred to the memory
of events in the life of our Lord Jesus Christ would
have special attributes of good fortune attributed to
them. But the actual reason why stocks purchased
at the above-named period would be pretty sure to
do well is, that by Old Christmas Day they would
have passed the perils of early winter, and would
be hardly likely to find a buyer unless their weight
indicated that they had food supplies sufficient to
last till the flowers came again.
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A second notion of this kind is, that if a swarm
settles on a dry stick or dead tree, the bees will not
long survive. Doubtless, many persons could be found
to state that in their own apiaries they had seen
instances in which the one event had followed the
other. We, indeed, have had one such coincidence—a
case in which a swarm settled on a stake supporting
an espalier apple-tree, and died during the ensuing
winter. Still, we are unable to believe that there is any
real connection between the incidents. Living trees
offer so many inducements to a swarm on the wing
for settling—the benefit of shade above all—that it is
not to be wondered at that branches with foliage are,
if accessible, almost always chosen by the insects
for alighting on. It is just possible that an old and
feeble queen may occasionally, when heading a swarm,
be unable to fly farther than a very short distance,
and, through fatigue, may settle on a post or other
leafless wood. Of course such a queen would be
likely to die within a few months at most, and thus
involve the loss of the colony during the next winter.
Hence the idea we are speaking of may have arisen.
We come now to a notion more widely prevalent
than either of the preceding, and perhaps even more
absurd. We allude to the supposed necessity of
informing the bees of the death of their owner or of
any member of his family. So strongly is this fallacy
held, that in many country districts, especially among
the cottagers, the question after a decease in the
household "Have the bees been told?" is almost as
much a matter of course as an inquiry whether the
undertaker has been sent for. Even in the depth of
winter, it is thought by believers in this superstition
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needful to "wake the bees," albeit we know that
they are not asleep, and tell them of the sad event,
in which they are supposed to have so profound an
interest. In Maude's Antiquities we read of the
following case in point: "A gentleman at a dinner
table happened to mention that he was surprised, on
the death of a relative, by his servant inquiring
whether his master would inform the bees of the
event, or whether he should do so. On asking the
meaning of so strange a question, the servant assured
him that bees ought always to be informed of a death
in the family, or they would resent the neglect by
deserting the hive. This gentleman resides in the
Isle of Ely, and the anecdote was told in Suffolk.
One of the party present, a few days afterwards took
the opportunity of testing the prevalence of this
strange notion, by inquiring of a cottager, who had
lately lost a relative, and happened to complain of
the loss of her bees, whether she had told them all
she ought to do. She immediately replied, 'Oh!
yes, when my aunt died I told every skep myself, and
put them into mourning.' I have since ascertained
the existence of the same superstition in Cornwall,
Devonshire, Gloucestershire (where I have seen black
crape put round the hive or on a small stick by its
side), and Yorkshire. There are many other singular
notions afloat as to these insects. In Oxfordshire
I was told that, if man and wife quarrelled, the bees
would leave them.
"In the Living Librairie, Englished by John
Molle, 1621, page 283, we read, 'Who would beleeve
without superstition (if experience did not make it
credible) that most commonly all the bees die in
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their hives if the master or mistress of the house
chance to die, except the hives be presently removed
into some other place? And yet I know this hath
hapned to folke no way stained with superstition.' A
vulgar prejudice prevails in many places of England
that, when bees remove or go away from their hives,
the owner of them will die soon after."
A correspondent of The Bee Journal writes under
the head of "Norfolk Bee-Superstition": "A neighbour
of mine had bought a hive of bees at an auction
of the goods of a farmer, who had recently died. The
bees seemed very sickly, and not likely to thrive;
when my neighbour's servant bethought him they had
never been put in mourning for their late master. On
this he got a piece of crape and tied it to a stick,
which he fastened to a hive. After this the bees
recovered; and when I saw them they were in a very
flourishing state—a result which was unhesitatingly
attributed to their having been put into mourning."
It is more difficult to suggest the possible origin of
these curious fancies than to explain those previously
mentioned. We may, perhaps, be on the right track
in supposing that it has often happened, when the
master or mistress of the bees has been ill or has
died, the insects have missed, especially in autumn or
early spring, the attention required for their welfare,
and have, in consequence, perished. Then other
persons of the household, unacquainted with the
actual connection—in many instances a vital connection—between
the bees and their owner, have
attributed to them a bond not actually existing;
and so, being led to the silly notion of the insects
grieving, or needing to be informed, and to have their
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hive put in mourning, they have easily diffused a
superstition in which each favouring coincidence
would tell widely for its extended belief.
In the Norfolk case, narrated in The Bee Journal,
several possible explanations suggest themselves. In
the first place, if the deceased farmer was an inhabitant
of the same village as the buyer of his bees, and
the hives were removed to a new home near their old
one, most of the bees which had previously flown
would return to their accustomed spot, and perish,
not knowing their way to their changed abode.
Then, in the course of a fortnight or three weeks, a
good number of freshly-hatched insects would have
strengthened the community, and these, naturally,
would return with their supplies to the fresh
domicile, and soon put matters into a flourishing
condition.
Again, if dull gloomy weather followed the purchase
of the bees, and was succeeded by brighter
days, coincidently with the fastening of the stick and
crape to the hives, the improved appearances would,
of course, be due to warmer temperature and sunnier
hours, without any change in the feelings of the
insects from their abode being duly adorned with
the emblems of mourning.
Lastly, the explanation may be simply that, when
the stock was bought it was in poor condition, but
that in two or three weeks, by the hatching of brood
in the natural course of events, a greatly improved
condition of affairs had come about. The first of these
explanations, however, is probably the correct one.
One more superstitious custom is said to prevail
in Devonshire, viz., at the funeral of a deceased bee
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keeper, the turning round of every hive that belonged
to the departed, and this just at the moment the
corpse is being carried out of the house. We do not
pretend to explain this curious fancy. It may have
originated in an experiment to avert the supposed
disastrous connection between the bees and the death
of their owner. Anything would seem to do for a
charm to minds imbued with superstition.
Borlase, in his Antiquities of Cornwall, mentions
one other superstition of apiarians of that county.
He says: "The Cornish to this day invoke the
spirit Browny when their bees swarm; and think
that their crying 'Browny, Browny,' will prevent
their returning to their former hive, and make them
pitch and form a new colony."
It is not wonderful that the many extraordinary
facts connected with bees, coming at various times
under human observation, should have led to notions
of marvels, founded, not on observation, but on
fancy. There is a strong tendency in the human
mind to desire explanations of phenomena, and
where there has been no scientific training in observation,
false deductions are easily arrived at, or
guesses as to causes are made, which have no
foundation in fact. Bee-keeping has, for the most
part, till in quite recent times, been chiefly in the
hands of people of the more ignorant classes, among
whom wonderful stories easily arise, are rapidly
propagated, and tenaciously believed. Any circumstances
seeming to support a previously established
fancy would serve to increase the strength of superstition;
while any number of instances not corroborating
prevailing ideas would be disregarded. But,
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when once the spirit of sound investigation is applied
to these vulgar errors, they become so manifestly
absurd, that the marvel is how they can possibly
have arisen.
Without doubt, there are many extraordinary facts
connected with bees still awaiting the observation
and the explanation of explorers in this department
of natural history. Problems connected with the
working of mind in the lower animals; the relations
between reason and instinct; the functions of particular
organs in these and other insects; the transmission
of faculties not possessed by either parent in
particular races; the direction and variation in the
working of inherent faculties, through the agency of
man, are subjects opening up most interesting fields of
inquiry, which we would point out to those who have
the inclination, leisure, and opportunities for pursuing
investigations. We are satisfied that efforts and time
thus devoted will be well repaid by the pleasure
which springs from knowledge, and will lead in all
devout minds to enlarged admiration of the wisdom
and beneficence of Him, from whose creative power
the varied structures of animal life have come, and
from whose infinite resources have been bestowed all
those faculties which call forth our astonishment and
delight as we study the facts of insect life. The
deepest impression on mind and heart will be that
embodied in the exclamation of the ancient Hebrew
poet, "O Lord, how manifold are Thy works: in
wisdom hast Thou made them all."
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CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE PROFITS OF BEE-KEEPING.
Methods of Honey-taking—Straw Caps—Bell-Glasses—Sections—Frames—Extractors—Run
Honey—Average Returns of Hives.
In our introduction, reference was made to the
money-returns likely to be derived from bee-keeping
by persons of ordinary good sense, who learn to
manage their hives according to modern methods.
Some few facts relating to this point may be advantageously
added.
With the different straw-skeps in use, three methods
of honey-taking may be adopted, without killing the
bees. Among cottagers the usual plan is to put on
to the stock-hive a "cap" or smaller straw-hive, and
to remove this when full. Others, more wisely, induce
their bees to work in bell-glasses of various sizes
and these, when nicely filled, are very saleable, at a
shilling or fifteen pence per lb. A third plan is to
fit a certain number of the "sections" described in
Chapter XVII. into a box or crate, and to place these
on a strong stock. In the height of a good season,
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from 12 lbs. to 15 lbs. of the purest honey ought to
be gathered in three or four weeks, by any of these
methods.
With the bar-frame hives, either bell-glasses, or
"sections," may be still more advantageously filled;
because, by judicious examination and treatment of
the stocks, these may be strengthened and helped,
so as to be in the most favourable condition for
storing honey in large quantities. It is no uncommon
thing for 40 lbs. or 50 lbs. to be taken in "sections"
from a single flourishing hive; and, in an ordinary
season, the average amount from each stock ought
not to be less than 20 lbs. Much, however, will
depend on the control exercised over swarming. Of
course the more numerous the population is kept,
the greater will be the quantity of stores secured.
If colony after colony is allowed to be sent off, the
less will be the strength of the parent-community
for food-gathering. Still, one swarm and 20 lbs. of
honey in the season is not an unreasonable amount
to expect from a really good hive.
Again, from the modern wooden hives, frames of
well-filled and sealed comb may be taken, and after
this has been cut out, the frames may be put back
into their places, having been first supplied with
"foundation," to give help and direction to the bees
in working out new combs for refilling. One such
frame of sealed honey should weigh 5 lbs. or 6 lbs.
Another plan, yielding by far the largest results,
is to throw out the honey from the combs as they
are filled. By means of "extractors," of which there
are several kinds, the operation is very easy. The
sealed cells of one side must be uncapped, and the
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frame then subjected to rapid rotation, which will
cause the liquid to fly out through centrifugal tendency.
Having cleared one side, the other must be
operated upon in the same manner, and then the
emptied combs should be put back into the hive, in
the same order as that in which they have been taken
out. In this way very large quantities of honey may
be obtained; for the bees, having no fresh comb to
make, throw all their energies into repairing and
refilling the cells from which their stores have been
extracted. The liquid from the unsealed portions
of the comb is apt to be thin, and is then called
"unripe." It requires to have some of its water
evaporated, either by exposure to the air or to heat.
If this precaution is neglected, this dilute honey is
liable to ferment and turn sour. The bees never
seal any in the cells till it is of the proper consistency
for keeping. It is curious they should know
when it is in suitable condition for covering up from
the air.
Marvellous accounts are received from time to time
of the quantities of honey obtained by bee-keepers
who make free use of the "extractor." Single hives
have been known to yield in one season over 80 lbs.
in weight. The most satisfactory results are, probably,
secured by a selection of one of the various
methods of honey-taking to which we have alluded.
The nature of the hive; the strength of the stock;
the prevention of swarming, or its permission; the
supply of food required for the honeyless part of the
year,—all have to be taken into consideration in
deciding upon the method of removing honey, and
the amount which shall be abstracted.
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For ordinary home use, run honey is most serviceable.
As it can be sold, moreover, at only a less price
than that in sections or frames, there is this further
inducement for its consumption rather than its sale.
Ordinarily, not more than tenpence or a shilling a
pound, at most, can be obtained for it; while sealed
honey in sections, or in frames, is worth considerably
more.
We need hardly say that the weather is a most
important factor in the success or failure of bee-keeping,
in any particular year. Apiculturists, like
agriculturists, are subject to many and great alternations
of hope and fear. The brightest prospects of
a bountiful honey-harvest are often blighted by rainy
or ungenial days in May and June; and if these are
succeeded by a cloudy, cold July, the bees will not
only not store any more honey than they will themselves
require, but may very possibly need liberal
supplies of syrup in the autumn to carry them
through the winter.
Speaking in general terms of the profit to be made
by amateur bee-keepers, we may safely say that, in
a series of years, the average returns ought to be
sufficient to pay the expenses of maintenance, and to
yield, in addition, swarms and honey to the value of,
at least, 1l. per hive. Such results will, of course,
not be attained without patient and careful attention
to the apiary; but such attention will be further rewarded
by the pleasures derivable from a knowledge
of the habits of the wonderful insects; from the successful
pursuit of a rational and inexpensive hobby;
from the ability to interest and instruct other people
in this department of natural history; and lastly, but
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not least, from enlarged conceptions of the attributes
of the Creator, whose almighty power and wisdom
are proclaimed alike by "sun and moon, and stars
of light; mountains and all hills; fruitful trees and
all cedars; beasts and all cattle; creeping things and
flying fowl."
THE END.
LONDON: K. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS.
Transcriber Note
Minor typos corrected. In order to accommodate placement of some Figures,
paragraphs were split at logical break points.
