Inquisitive Jack.CHAPTERX.
Something worth knowing.
I havealready told my readers that our little hero, whom we call Inquisitive Jack, was of a very investigating turn of mind. I do not mean to say that he was curious and inquisitive about improper things. He had not that unpleasant trait of character, which belongs to some people and some children—a constant disposition to be curious and inquisitive about other people’s affairs. If he was a kind of Paul Pry, his curiosity only led him to pry into the works of nature and art, and not to be meddlesome in the affairs of other people.
I believe I have also said that, when Jack became interested in a subject, he did not like to leave it till he knew all about it. He did not, like some little people, proceed from one object to another, amusing himself for a moment, and laying up no permanent stores of knowledge. He was more like the little insect of which we have told so long a story—the bee—which, when it alights upon a blossom, scrapes out all the honey, and then stores it away in cells for future use. So it was with Jack. He studied one subject at a time, made himself master of the knowledge it afforded, packed it away in the cells of his memory, and then was ready to set about something else.
Well, on account of this trait of character, he would not leave the subject of bees until he had extracted from Aunt Betsey all she knew of the subject—all the learning she had got. I have already told you many things which he learned, but there are many others whichI have not related. I must now tell you a few of these, and then we will proceed to something else.
Jack had an idea, which is common to children, that all domestic animals were naturally tame; and he was greatly surprised to learn that dogs, cats, cows, hens, pigs, horses, and even bees, were originally wild, and had been brought into their present state by the arts of man. In the course of his conversations with Aunt Betsey, he acquired these new ideas, and he was then very curious to hear about wild bees and bee-hunters. Accordingly, his kind-hearted relative proceeded to satisfy his inquiries upon this subject. The substance of what she told him was as follows:
In nearly all countries there are swarms of wild bees, which have their abode in the forest. Their hive is the hollow trunk of some aged tree. Here they build their cells and store their honey. The native flowers of the forest, of the valley, and the mountain, of the hill-side and the lawn, afford them a supply of their delicious food, not only for the daily meal, during the warm season, but for the stores of winter.
It is a part of the plan of the benevolent Creator, that every portion of the universe shall be filled with life, so that happiness may everywhere abound. Even where man has not yet made his way in the wilderness and the solitary place, there are the flowers, with their honey, and there, amid other insects, is the busy, happy bee, to gather it. How vast must be the field of enjoyment which the omniscient eye surveys, if even the study of insects unfolds such a view as is here suggested.
The habits of the wild bees are nearly the same as those of the domestic ones. They live in large communities, build their cells in hexagons, are subject to the government of a queen, and have their periodical swarms, as we have related.
The hunting of wild bees is very common in the western states of this country. In some parts they are so abundant, that some persons become regular bee-hunters. Their mode of finding the hives is curious and interesting.
I must tell you that, when a bee sets off from a flower, to return to the hive, it always flies home in a straight line. It is one of the amazing instincts of this little creature, that, wherever it may be, it has the power of going to its home without deviation from a direct course. It may wander in the woods, it may sport amid the mazes of the flowery meadow, yet still the little creature never gets its head turned, never gets lost. The moment that its honey-bags are filled, it mounts upward on the breeze, and, without hesitation, speeds like an arrow to its mark.
The bee-hunter takes advantage of this curious trait in the bee. He sees in what direction the insect flies, and, by following on, is able, at last, to discover the hive. A practised bee-hunter often adopts this method. He notices the direction in which a bee flies from one flower, and sets down two or three sticks to mark the route. He then goes to a little distance, and starts another bee, and marks the route he takes. If the two lines tend toward each other, he concludes that the angle at which they meet is the point where the hive is to be found. Judging of the distance by the skill acquired by practice, the hunter proceeds to the spot, and seldom fails of finding the honey which he seeks pretty near the place which his calculations have indicated.
The scientific bee-hunter sometimes adopts the following method: he places some bee-bread, in order to tempt the bees, on a flat board or tile, and draws a circle round it with white paint. The bee always settles upon the edge of anything flat; so she must travel throughthe paint to reach the edge. When she flies away, the white paint on her body enables the hunter to observe her flight, and her course is marked down with a pocket compass. The same thing is done at another spot, some distance from the first, and, by comparing the direction of the two lines, the situation of the nest is easily found, as it must be at the point where the lines would meet.
We are told that, in Africa, there is a curious little hunter of the wild bee. This is a quadruped, about as large as a woodchuck, called the honey-ratel. This cunning little fellow seems to understand optics; for, when he wishes to get a distinct view of the bees, he holds up one of his fore paws, as you would your hand, in order to shade his eyes, and thus exclude from the pupil of the eye an excess of light. He watches the bees, particularly at sunset, for he knows that, like other working people, they are then retiring to their homes. Following the route they take, he is able to find out the vicinity of the hive, and, when he has come pretty near, his keen scent directs him to the honey which he seeks.
There is, also, in the wilds of Africa, a little bird called the honey-guide. This creature has the faculty of finding out where the honey is stored, and it is said that, when he meets a traveller in the wilderness, he will flutter along before him, from branch to branch, and from tree to tree, and, at last, guide him to the hive.
I remember to have read a story, of this kind, a great many years ago, when I was a boy. It was in the beautiful tale of Alphonso and Dalinda, told by Madame de Genlis, in her Tales of the Castle. I have never forgotten it; and no story, that I have since heard, has seemed half so pleasing. Does it not seem, indeed, almost like an incident of fairy land, that travellers, wandering in the wilds of Africa, should find a little bird, who becomes their guide to a feast of honey?
If I were to repeat all that Aunt Betsey Piper told her nephew about bees, I am afraid that I should fill a book. So I may as well bring this chapter to an end, after saying a few words about other kinds of bees.
I might talk a long time about the humble-bee, or, as some of my little readers call him, the bumble-bee. He is very large, and goes about with an air of importance, like some fat, bustling people that we know of. He has one habit which it is well not to imitate, and that is, of always humming a tune as he roams about. This bee makes his nest of moss, in the hayfield, usually beneath a heap of stones, or in some excavation of the earth. Two or three dozen usually assemble together, and carry on the various operations of the little community.
The mason bee builds her nest in the hole of an old wall, of little pieces of clay. She makes four or five cells, of the size of a thimble, in each of which she lays an egg. The carpenter bee makes a nest in an old post, by boring a hole, twelve inches long, with her teeth. In these holes she lays her eggs.
We could tell some of Aunt Betsey’s curious stories about upholstery bees and leaf-cutter bees, and we could say a good deal about their spiteful cousins, the wasps and hornets. But we must close the chapter by remarking, that all these different branches of the bee family live in communities, make and store honey, hatch their young from eggs, adopt a kind of despotic government, and carry a sharp sword sheathed in the tail.