VI.HYMENOPTERA.The Order Hymenoptera comprises those insects which have four naked membranous wings, lying in repose horizontally upon the body, and intersected by a network of nerves. The name is derived from two Greek words—ὑμην, a membrane, and πτερον, a wing. The mouth is composed of two horny mandibles, jaws, and lips adapted for suction.It is amongst the Hymenoptera that we meet with the most industrious insects, some of which seem to possess real intelligence. These little animals offer the most admirable examples of sociability. Born architects, they construct dwellings marvellously contrived, which serve them, at the same time, as nurseries in which to rear their progeny, and storehouses in which to lay by their provisions. Nothing can equal the solicitude with which they watch over their young larvæ, still incapable of motion. They form republics, governed by immutable laws, and make war against their enemies in order of battle. They have predilections or antipathies for those who court their society, on account of the material advantages they derive from them.The Bees, the Humble Bees, the Wasps, and the Ants, are the best-known types of this order of insects. Among a great number of the Hymenoptera the females are armed with a sting, or lancet, a wound from which causes great pain. All these insects undergo complete metamorphoses. In the larva state the aculeate species are incapable of motion and of obtaining food; but Nature has provided in different ways for their preservation. They are often lodged and fed by the workers of the tribe, unfruitful females, which, with a self-denial very rare in Nature, seem to have no other vocation than to sacrifice themselves to the welfare of the larvæ. The workers construct the nest and bring in the provisions. This is the case with honey bees, wasps, and ants.Some deposit their eggs in the bodies of other insects, which die immediately the larvæ which live in them have attained their full development. The larvæ of theChalcididæand of theIchneumonidæfurnish examples of Hymenoptera which inhabit the interior of the body of another insect. Other parasitical species carry on their depredations in a different way. They content themselves with laying their eggs in the nests of other species of the order, which have the advantage over them in being able to construct for themselves places of refuge. Their larvæ live thus on their neighbours' goods, nourishing themselves on the provisions which were laid up for others. In this way live theCleptes, theChrysides, &c. Lastly, others, such as the Gall-insects, and theTenthredinetæ, or Saw-flies, live in their first state exposed on plants, and feed upon their leaves.We shall only here describe the principal families of the Order Hymenoptera, which contains a considerable number of species. These families will be—1st. TheApiariæ, containing the Honey Bees, theMelipodes, and the Humble Bees. 2nd. TheVespiariæ, or Wasps. 3rd. TheFormicariæ, or Ants. 4th. TheGallicolæ, or Gall-insects.Bees.—Man, from the very earliest age, before any civilisation existed, knew the value of bees, and took advantage of the products of these industrious insects. The Bible makes mention of honey bees. Their Hebrew name isDeborah. The Greeks called them by the name ofMelissa, orMelitta.Their wonderful architectural powers, their economical forethought, the wonderful combination of their reasonings, which denote a real intelligence, their admirable social organisation, have in all times fixed the attention of naturalists, as they have also that of poets and thinkers. Virgil has celebrated them. In the fourth book of his Georgics, the Latin poet has summed up all that the ancients knew about bees. He paints with a good deal of truth many traits in their history, points out their enemies, and sets forth with accuracy all the care that should be taken of them. In the words of the Mantuan poet, they are heavenly gifts,dona cælestia, and their intelligence excited his admiration:—"His quibus signis atque hæc exempla secuti,Esse apibus partem divinæ mentis, et haustusÆthereos dixere." ...Let us hasten to say, however, that all which the ancients, naturalists or poets, Greek or Latin, relate on the subject of bees, is a mixture of truth and error, and rests generally on mere supposition.Aristotle knew well the three sorts of individuals which are comprised under the title of bees, and some other principal facts relating to their history; but these facts are not stated accurately and precisely in his account of them, and they are, above all, misinterpreted. The Greek philosopher understood insects in general very badly. He made them spring from the leaves of trees, and brought forward a multitude of errors about them, which the most simple observation would have sufficed to dissipate. Pliny tells us that Aristomachus of Soles consecrated fifty-eight years to the observation of the habits of the bee, and that Philiscus of Thrace passed, for the same motive, all his life in the forests. But this devotion to one object does not appear to have produced much result, if one compares the discoveries of our own age with the errors which Pliny, Aristotle, and Columella have chronicled respecting them. Pliny says that bees occupy the first rank among insects, and that they were created for man, for whom their work procures honey and wax. He adds that they form political associations, that they have councils, chiefs, and even a code of morality and principles.One sees by this opinion of the Roman naturalist in what high esteem the ancients held bees. But they had the most singular ideas on the reproduction of these little beings; and as no one had ever seen their generation, they invented fable after fable to explain their origin. Some pretended that bees sprang from an ox recently killed, and buried in manure. Others added that they only sprang into existence from the chest of a young ox killed with violence. The most courageous bees came from the belly of a lion in a state of putrefaction. It was from the head of this same animal, in a state of corruption, that thekings(i.e., thequeens) were formed. The carcases of cows furnished the mild and tractable bees; a calf could only furnish small and weak ones. Other naturalists, or rather other dreamers, made these insects spring from the calices of sweet-scented flowers. Combined and separated in a certain manner, the flowers engendered bees. They said, further, that the bees sought on the blossoms of the olive trees and of the reed a seed which they rendered fit for the formation of their larvæ.All these fables, which sprang from the imagination of the ancients, were developed by a writer of the Renaissance, a certain Alexander de Montfort, author of a work entitled "Printemps de l'Abeille." If we were to believe him, the king of the bees is formed of the juice which the workers extract from plants. These latter are created from honey; and the tyrants,i.e., the females, which do not manage to become sovereigns of a hive, are formed only of gum.It will be seen that he had profited only too well by what he had read in Greek and Roman authors.The bee was very much thought of in ancient Egypt, and is often represented on their monuments, above the sculptured ornaments which contain proper names, with two semicircles and a sort of sheaf, or fasciculus. Champollion Figeac thinks that this group, taken together, represents a title added to a proper name. According to Hor-Apollon, another commentator on Egyptian hieroglyphics, the bee in the country of the Pharaohs was the emblem of a people sweetly submissive to the orders of its king. Nothing can be better than this comparison. It was for this reason, no doubt, that Napoleon I. sprinkled the symbolical bees over the imperial mantle which bears the arms of his dynasty.All the fables, all the hypotheses, spread about and cherished by the ancients respecting these industrious little insects, were dissipated in a moment when, by the invention of glass bee-hives, first made in the beginning of the last century by Maraldi, a mathematician of Nice, we were enabled to observe their operations and habits. It is from this period only that our exact knowledge of the really wonderful life of these insects dates. Before Maraldi, the Dutch naturalist, Swammerdam, had written an excellent "History of Bees." He died before he had published his work, and when, a long while after his death, it was at length printed, other investigators had already pushed on their observations further than he had. Thanks to the invention of Maraldi, Réaumur, John Hunter, Schirach, and Francis Huber, had unveiled, by their admirable researches, the wonderful habits of these insects. The discoveries of Francis Huber seem to be almost miraculous, when we remember that this observer was blind from the age of seventeen.Deprived of sight, Francis Huber did not the less wish to consecrate his life to the observation and the study of Nature. He caused the best works of his day on natural history and physics to be read to him, his usual reader being his servant, named Francis Burnens, a native of the Pays de Vaud. The honest Burnens took a singular interest in all he read, and showed by his judicious reflections the true talent of an observer, and Huber resolved to cultivate his talent. Very soon he could place implicit reliance in his companion, and see with another's eyes as if they were his own.The two naturalists (we do not hesitate to give this title to the poor peasant of the canton of Vaud who so well seconded his master in his long hours of study) conceived a host of original experiments, which led them to discover truths which no one up to that time haddreamt of. The results of their researches were published, in 1789, in a volume which produced a profound sensation among naturalists.[81]Burnens was at a later period called back to the bosom of his family, and invested by his fellow-citizens with important functions. Francis Huber then continued his observations through the eyes of the excellent wife he had married. A second volume was thus composed by him twenty years after the appearance of the first. This volume was published by his son, Pierre Huber, to whom we are indebted for the admirable researches concerning ants, of which we shall have to speak further on.We will now speak of the habits of the bees. The labours of Réaumur, of Schirach, and of Huber, have perfectly revealed them to us, and have initiated us completely into the habits of these precious insects, which are for us to a certain extent domestic animals. We will begin by describing the Common Bee (Apis mellifica).During the greater part of the year the population of our hives is composed exclusively of two sorts of individuals—the female, or mother bee, called also the queen bee; and the working bees, or neuters, which are, properly speaking, females incompletely developed. A third kind of individuals, the males, called also drones, are generally not met with except from May to July.Fig. 309.Working Bee(Apis mellifica).The working bees are the people, the crowd, theservum pecus, the living force, the bee community. They are recognised by their small size, reddish brown colour, and, above all, by the palettes and brushes with which the hind legs are furnished.The three pairs of legs which are inserted in its thorax are its tools. The two hind-legs are longer than the other pairs, and present on the exterior a triangular depression, resembling apalette, which is surrounded by stiff hairs, forming, as it were, the borders of a sort of basket, in which the insect deposits the pollen of flowers. The broadest part of the leg articulates with the tarsus, which is of a square form, smooth on the exterior, and having hairs on its interior surface, which has caused it to be named the brush. The joint is used for gathering the pollen; it folds back on the leg (Fig. 310), and forms with it a sort of small pair of pincers; and, finally, the legis terminated by four smaller articulations, the last of which is armed with hooks. The other tools of the working bee consist of a pair of movable mandibles, which close the mouth on its two sides, and of a trunk or proboscis (Fig. 311), which may be considered as a sort of tongue.Fig. 310.—Leg of a Bee (magnified).Fig. 311.—Trunk of a Bee (magnified).Fig. 310.—Leg of a Bee (magnified).Fig. 311.—Trunk of a Bee (magnified).With its mandibles the working bee seizes any hard substance. The trunk serves it to collect the juice lying on the surface of the petals, or at the bottom of the corolla of the flower. When a bee has settled on a full-blown flower, it is seen immediately to make for the interior of the corolla, to put out its trunk, and apply it to the petals; it lengthens, shortens, and twists and bends it in all directions. When the hairy surface of this organ is covered with vegetable juice, the bee returns it to its mouth, and deposits the booty in a conduit, whence the juice passes into the first stomach. This trunk is then, in all respects, a tongue, with which the bee sucks, licks, and pumps up the honey of flowers. But it also gathers the pollen. When it enters a flower the bee covers itself with pollen from head to foot, and then passing its brushes carefully over its whole body, removes the dust which adheres to it in every part, and piles it up on the triangular palettes of its hind-legs, in such a manner as to form balls of greater or less size. If the flower is not quite full blown, the bee makes use of its mandibles to open the anthers, in which case thefront pair of legs transmit the booty to the second pair, which stores them in the baskets of the third. When it has gathered as much as it can carry, the bee returns to the hive, its legs laden with pollen.Fig. 313.—Female, or QueenFig. 313.—Female, or QueenFig. 312.—Male, or Drone (Apis mellifica).Fig. 313.—Female, or Queen (Apis mellifica).This complete set of tools which we have just described is only to be met with among the working bees. The males, or drones (Fig. 312), larger and more hairy than the working bees, emitting a sonorous and buzzing sound, have no palettes on their legs, the hairs on their tarsi are not appropriated to the work of gathering, their mandibles are shorter, and they have noaculeus, or sting, which is the working bee's weapon.The female, or queen (Fig. 313), is smaller than the male, and has a longer body than the working bees, and the wings, shorter in proportion, cover only the half of its body, whereas with the other bees they cover it entirely. The only part she has to play is that of laying eggs, and so she has no palettes and brushes. The sovereign is, as suits her supreme rank, exempted from all work. She is always escorted by a certain number of working bees, who brush her, lick her, present honey to her with their trunks, save her every kind of fatigue, and compose a train worthy of her feminine majesty. One very remarkable fact is that only one queen lives in each hive. Perfect sovereign of this tiny state, she rules over a people of some thousands of workers. It is not rare to find 20,000 working bees in a hive, and all submissively obey their sovereign. The number of males is scarcely one-tenth part of that of the working bees; and they only live about three months. The workers represent the active life of the community."The exterior of a hive," says M. Victor Rendre, "gives the best idea of this people, essentially laborious. From sunrise to sunset, all is movement, diligence, bustle; it is an incessant series of goings and comings, of various operations which begin, continue, and end, to be recommenced. Hundreds of bees arrive from the fields, ladenwith materials and provisions; others cross them and go in their turn into the country. Here, cautious sentinels scrutinise every fresh arrival; there, purveyors, in a hurry to be back at work again, stop at the entrance to the hive, where other bees unload them of their burdens; elsewhere it is a working bee which engages in a hand-to-hand encounter with a rash stranger; farther on the surveyors of the hive clear it of everything which might interfere with the traffic or be prejudicial to health; at another point the workers are occupied in drawing out the dead body of one of their companions; all the outlets are besieged by a crowd of bees coming in and going out, the doors hardly suffice for this hurrying, busy multitude. All appears disorder and confusion at the approaches to the hive, but this tumult is only so in appearance; an admirable order presides over this emulation in their work, which is the distinctive feature in bees."[82]A very simple calculation may serve to give us an idea of this prodigious activity. The opening of a well-stocked hive gives passage to one hundred bees a minute, which makes, from five o'clock in the morning till seven o'clock in the evening, eighty thousand re-entrances, or four excursions for each bee, supposing there is a population of twenty thousand workers.Let us now follow their occupations from the moment in which they establish themselves in a hive. The workers begin by stopping up all the openings except one door, which is always to remain open. A certain number set out to look for a resinous and sweet-scented substance, known under the name ofpropolis, which is destined to cover the inner surface of the hive, as its name shows, which is derived from a Greek word signifying outskirts, or suburb. Huber asserts that it is gathered from the buds of plants. This substance has not yet been employed in the arts, although it possesses the same qualities as wax, as M. de Frarière remarks in his work "On Bees and Bee-keeping."[83]The propolis is employed in Italy for making blisters. This gum is viscous and very adherent. The bee works it up into balls, and carries it in this form to the hive, where other labourers take possession of it. They seize the pellet with their mandibles, and apply it to cracks which they have to make air-tight. They use the propolis for another purpose still, which deserves to be mentioned.It happens sometimes that an enemy penetrates into their hive, and that the bees are not strong enough to cast this intruder out of their dwelling. What do they do? As soon as they have discoveredthe invasion of their domicile, they set upon the impudent intruder, and sting him to death. But how can they drag out the dead body, which is often very heavy? such, for instance, as a slug. On the other hand, it would be dangerous to abandon its carcase in the midst of the hive. A Roman Emperor said that the dead bodies of our enemies always smelt good. This is not the opinion of the bees. They know that if they abandon the carcase in the hive it would infect the place, to the great danger of their health. They therefore embalm it. They encase it in propolis, which preserves it from putrefaction. It is said that the art of embalming was practised for the first time by the ancient Egyptians. It is an error: the first inventors of this art were bees.If, instead of a slug, it is a snail whose evil genius has conducted it into the interior of a beehive, the proceeding is more simple. The moment he has received one sting, the snail retires under the protecting roof of his movable house. The bees thereupon at once wall him in by closing the opening to his shell with this material. The shell is then cemented to the floor of the hive, and the house of the poor mollusc, become its tomb, remains thus in the midst of the hive, as a sort of decorative tumulus. When the sides of the hive are well closed, the bees lay the foundations of their cells.It was not formerly so easy to observe the details of the work done by the bees as it is at the present day; for these insects, once in their hives, have a great aversion to the light. If they are put into a glazed hive, their first care is to shut up all the windows, either by plastering them over with propolis, or by forming, by means of the well-marshalled battalion of working bees, a sort of living curtain. In order to be able to take them unawares, and study them at his own convenience, Huber constructed a hive with leaves, which opened like a book.Fig. 314, which represents the hive with leaves, which is sometimes used, gives an idea of the plan adopted by Huber in order to enable him at will to open the hive and surprise its inmates. Huber had also recourse in certain cases to a glass cage placed in the interior of the hive, and which he could easily move to the light.Fig. 314.—Bee-hive in Leaves.Fig. 314.—Bee-hive in Leaves.Thanks to his ingenuity, Huber was able to follow the working bees in all the various phases of their labours. When they begin to construct their hives they divide the work among themselves. A first detachment is employed to gather the wax, which is the building stone of our little architects. It was thought for a long time that wax was solely the pollen of flowers, elaborated in the stomach of bees, and then disgorged by the mouth. It was reserved for a peasant of Lusac to be the first to discover the true nature of this secretion. Thisobserver, who did not belong to any school, or at most belonged to Nature's school, found the flakes of wax sticking between the lower arches of the rings of the abdomen or belly of the working bee. The wax, then, is produced by the insect by exudation, and is not simply the pollen gathered from flowers. Huber himself states that bees exclusively nourished on pollen do not secrete wax, and that, on the contrary, they do furnish it when they eat saccharine matter. It is easy to perceive the little plates of wax by slightly raising the last rings of the bee's abdomen.Fig. 315represents a bee very heavily laden with this matter.Fig. 315.—Bee seen through a magnifying glass at the moment when the plates of wax appear between the segments of the abdomen.Fig. 315.—Bee seen through a magnifying glass at the moment when the plates of wax appear between the segments of the abdomen.The working bees suspend themselves from the roof of the hive in such a manner as to form festoons. The first clings to the roof with his front legs, the second hooks himself on to the hind legs of the first, and so on, as is shown inFig. 316. They in this manner formchains, fixed by the two ends to the roof, which serve as a bridge or ladder to the bees which join this assembly.Fig. 316.—Clusters of Bees.Fig. 316.—Clusters of Bees.The result of all this is at last a cluster or swarm of bees which hangs down to the bottom of the hive. In this attitude they remain at first motionless, waiting till the honey in their stomachs is changed into wax. When the wax is sufficiently elaborated in its organs, one of them detaches itself from the group of which it forms a part. It takes between its legs one of the flakes of wax adhering to the rings of its abdomen, kneads it with its mandibles, moistens it with its saliva, and gives it the appearance of a soft filament, which it sticks on to a projecting point of the roof. To this first layer it adds others, till it has exhausted all its wax. Then it leaves its post, and returns to the fields; another worker—another mason, as they are sometimes called—succeeds it, and continues the laying of the foundations. Presently shapeless blocks of wax hang down from the roof. It is in these blocks that other workers, with their mandibles, hollow out and form the first cells. While the workers continue to prolong the foundation-wall, and whilst the first cells are being shaped, new ones are roughly sketched out or rough-hewn, and the work advances with a marvellous rapidity.Each cell forms a small hexagonal cup, closed on one side only by a pyramidal base, produced by the meeting together of three rhombs. The honeycombs are the result of two layers of cells placed back to back, arranged in such a way that the bases of the one become the bases of the other, the base of each little cell being formed by the union of the bases of three opposite cells. The bees begin by forming the base of the cell; they then add the six sides, or walls, which are to complete the hexagonal cup. At the same time others set to work on the opposite side of the comb, and construct little cells back to back with the cells of the front surface. They do not finish them off at once. The walls are at first very thick: new workers, who succeed those who merely mark out the work, being occupied in planing down the rough-hewn cells, and in reducing the walls to the desired thickness. This work is accomplished with an incredible celerity, for the bees can build as many as 4,000 cells in twenty-four hours. There is very good reason for the hexagonal form being adopted by the bees in constructing their cells, as it involves a question of economy, which these insects have solved in their most admirable manner.Fig. 317.—Cells constructed by Bees."When one has well examined," says Réaumur,[84]"the true shapeof each cell, when one has studied their arrangement, geometry seems to have guided the design for the whole work, and to have presided over its execution. One finds that all the advantages which could have been desired are here combined. The bees seem to have had to solve a problem containing conditions which would have made the solution appear to be difficult to many geometricians. This problem may be thus enunciated:—Given a quantity of matter, say of wax, it is required to form cells which shall be equal and similar to each other, of a determined capacity, but as large as possible in proportion to the quantity of matter which is employed, and the cells to be so placed that they may occupy the least possible space in the hive. To satisfy this last condition, the cells should touch each other in such a manner that there may remain no angular space between them, no gap to fill up. The bees have satisfied these conditions, and at the same time they have satisfied the first conditions of the problem in making cells which are tubes having six equal sides, or in other words, hexagonal tubes.... We see still further that the best thing the beescould do to economise their space and materials, was to compose their honeycombs of two rows of cells turned in opposite directions."Fig. 318.—The cells of a Bee-hive.Fig. 318.—The cells of a Bee-hive.A, large cell intended for the larvæ of thequeens.B, middling-sized cells intended for the larvæ of themales.C, small cells intended for the larvæ of theworkers.This arrangement, it will be seen, enables them to economise the half of the wax intended for making the bases of the cells. They economise it still more by making the bases and the sides of the tubes extremely thin; the borders only of the comb being fortified by an excess of wax. These two-sided combs descend from the roof of the hive in parallel series, their thickness being about half an inch. They are fixed to the top by a sort of wax foot, and fastened to the sides by numerous bands. The bees pass between the rows, besides excavating circular openings, which serve as doors of communication. The form and the general arrangement of these buildings are otherwise very varied, according to circumstances. The bees always accommodate themselves to the nature of the hive.In all these operations they exhibit great judgment. It is impossible, when one has once seen them at work, to look on them as mere organised machines, whose instinct is their spring of action; we are forced to concede to them intelligence.The cells are of three dimensions: the small ones intended for the larvæ of the workers, the middling-sized ones for the larvæ of the males, and the large ones for the larvæ of the queens.These last—that is, theroyal cells—are generally only about twenty in number, in a hive containing 20,000 bees. Constructed of a mixture of wax and of propolis, resembling a rounded thimble, they form tubes of half an inch long, turned towards the exterior, and placed always vertically, in such a manner as to appear detached from the comb.The weight of aroyal cellis equivalent to that of a hundred other cells. The bees spare nothing to make it comfortable and spacious. "It is quite a Louvre," says Réaumur.But independently of their use as cradles, these cells serve as storehouses for honey.A few of these are used in turn for both these purposes, but a great number are reserved exclusively for stores of honey and pollen. This is brought, as we have already said, in the form of pellets, inthe baskets which the hind legs form. The working bee, when it has gathered it, pushes it into the cell, pressing it with its hind-legs. Another then arrives, and kneads up the mass to make it adhesive. The bee brings the honey in its first stomach, and disgorges it into one of the cells where it is to be kept. However, it is not always by carrying its honey into a cell that the worker is relieved of it, often finding an opportunity to deliver it on the way.Fig. 319.—Interior of a Hive."When it meets," says Réaumur,[85]"any of its companions who want food, and who have not had time to go and get any, it stops, erects and stretches out its trunk, so that the opening by which the honey may be taken out is a little way beyond the mandibles. It pushes the honey towards this opening. The other bees, who know well enough that it is from there they must take it, introduce the end of their trunks and suck it up. The bee which has not been stopped on its road, often goes to the places where other bees are working,that is, to those places where other bees are occupied, either in constructing new cells, or in polishing or bordering the cells already built; it offers them honey, as if to prevent them from being under the necessity of leaving their work to go and get it themselves."The honey which fills the store cells is intended for daily consumption, and also intended as a reserve for the period when the flowers furnish no more. The empty cells are left open, the workers making use of them when they want them, particularly during rainy days, which keep them at home. But the cells which contain the honey put by in reserve are closed. "They are," says Réaumur, "like so many pots of jam or jelly, each one of which has its covering, and a very solid covering it is too." This covering, composed of wax, hermetically seals the pots containing this reserve of honey. The object of this is to keep the honey in a certain state of liquidity, by preventing the evaporation of the water it contains. It is a remarkable fact that it does not run out of the cells which are open, although their position is almost always horizontal. This is because there are always in the sides of these narrow tubes points enough to keep it in, and that besides this the last layer of honey is always of greater consistency than the liquid in the interior, and upon which it forms a sort of crust.When the harvest has been abundant, many combs of closed cells may be found in each hive, perfect storehouses of abundance, furnished for the wants of the bad season. When the construction of the cells goes on well—often on the day after the bees have installed themselves in their hive—the queen goes out to meet the males. At the hour when these are accustomed to disport themselves in the sun, that is to say, from noon till five o'clock, she leaves the hive, whirls about for a few seconds, and disappears into the air. At the end of half an hour she returns, pregnant.When the female returns to the hive, she istheobject of every attention, the workers pressing round her, and forming quite a train. Many approach her, and lick the surface of her body; others brush her, caress her, and present her their trunks full of honey. Forty-eight hours after her return to the hive the mother bee generally begins laying.[86]Running over the honeycomb, she deposits an egg in each empty cell, and fixes it to the bottom by means of a glutinous secretion, in such a way that the egg is suspended in the interior of the cell. They have the appearance of little oblong bodies, of a bluish white. If the queen, in a hurry to lay, lets more than one eggfall into the same cell, the workers who accompany her hasten to carry out and destroy those that are in excess. This is often the case when the combs have not enough cells to contain all the eggs laid. We have said that the queen only lays worker eggs at this time; the others are laid later. She continues to lay until the cold weather approaches, when she ceases to do so, and does not resume her occupation until the return of spring. This laying is very abundant. The queen produces at least two hundred eggs a day; so that in the space of two months she lays more than twelve thousand. Towards the eleventh month of her existence in the perfect state, the queen begins laying the eggs which will produce males, their number varying from 1,500 to 3,000; the deposition of these eggs occupies about a month.Towards the twentieth day, the workers lay the foundations of some royal cells. When these cells have attained a certain length, the queen deposits an egg in each, allowing, however, one or two days to intervene between the laying of these privileged eggs, so that the young queens to whom they are to give birth should not be hatched all at the same time, which would cause difficulties and even wars concerning the right of their succession to the throne. This complication human governments have not been always able to avoid, as history shows; but the bees have found out a way of doing so.The distribution of the eggs in the cells is not left to chance. Each egg, according to the sex to which it belongs, is deposited in the cell which awaits it. The eggs of the females do not, however, differ in any way from those of the workers. The difference in their development depends entirely on the space and food allowed them.We represent (Fig. 320) a portion of a comb containing the eggs placed in the cells, as also the royal cells. The regular order of laying is such as we have just described, but the result is quite different when the impregnation of the queen has been retarded by an accidental captivity of two or three weeks. The longer this delay, the greater will be the number of male eggs. If the queen is shut up for more than twenty days after her birth, she can then lay nothing but male eggs during the remainder of her existence. It seems, also, that this delay troubles her intellect; for she then often makes blunders as to the cells. She lays the eggs of the males, or drones, in the cradles prepared for the queens, and thus brings confusion into the future community.The eggs, once laid, are left to the care of the working bees, which Réaumur called the nurses, in opposition to the wax-workers, which are employed in works of construction. According to manybee-keepers, and especially M. Hamet,[87]this division of duties is not positive. The young workers are the wax-workers; the old ones, collectors of honey, and nurses. However, when the honey-harvest is at its height, all the workers collect the spoil. Every individual is pressed into the service at the harvest time, as with men.Fig. 320.—Portion of the comb, with the eggs occupying the cells. One of the royal cells has been opened by the queen.Fig. 320.—Portion of the comb, with the eggs occupying the cells. One of the royal cells has been opened by the queen.The eggs are not long in being hatched. From the moment when the larva comes out of the egg till that of its metamorphosis into a pupa, it keeps in its cell, rolled up, motionless as an Indian idol in its sacred temple. The working bees visit it from time to time, to see that it wants for nothing, and to renew its provisions. They also carefully inspect the different cells, and assure themselves of the good condition of their nurslings. The pap which they give them as food is whitish, and resembles paste made of flour. It is apparently a preparation of pollen, prepared in the body of the insect. As the larvæ increase in size, their food is made to acquire a more decided taste ofhoney, and to become even slightly acid. It seems, then, that the bees know how to graduate the food of their larvæ in such a manner as to bring it nearer by degrees to honey.Fig. 321.—Larva of the Bee (magnified).Fig. 321.Larva of the Bee(magnified).In the space of five days the larvæ are developed; they have absorbed all their pap, and have no need from that time of any nourishment, for they are about now to change into pupæ. Now the nurses pay them a last attention. They wall them up in their cells, closing the openings with a waxen covering. The larvæ then get close to the wax covering. In thirty-six hours they have spun for themselves a silky cocoon, in which they undergo their transformation into pupæ. The moult, which precedes their metamorphosis, constitutes a crisis, as with the caterpillars of Lepidoptera.The perfect insect is hatched seven or eight days after its transformation into a pupa, the organs being developed little by little, and the young bee is then ready to appear in the broad daylight. It breaks through the thin transparent covering in which it is still swathed; then, with its mandibles, it pierces the operculum, or door of its prison, and opens a way for itself by which it can issue forth. With the assistance of its front legs it clings to the rim of the cell, and draws itself forward, till it has set free the whole of its body. The other bees lavish upon this newly-arrived little stranger all possible attention, to make its entrance into the world easy and agreeable; assisting and supporting it till it has become quite strong. It very soon becomes strong. If it is a working bee, it is not long in getting to work and in mixing with its companions in labour.This is the way in which the hatching of ordinary bees takes place, workers and males; the first, twenty days after they are laid; the second, twenty-four days after. The rearing and birth of the young queens is slightly different. In proportion as the larvæ increase in size do the workers enlarge the cells which contain them; and then again gradually diminish their size as the moment of their last metamorphosis approaches. A special and peculiar food is given to the larvæ of the queens; it is quite different from that which is given to the larvæ of the working bees, being a heavier and sweeter substance. This special food seems to exercise such an energetic influence on the development of the ovaries, that simple workers which have accidentally received any of it, during their larval state, become pregnant and lay a few eggs. But this anomalous development remains imperfect, because the prolific food was only administered in a small quantity. Besides which, the size of the cells is of great importanceto the development of the larvæ imprisoned in them; and so the larvæ of working bees, having lived in the small cells, can never attain the proportions of the queen, nor acquire her fecundity. But all this is changed if these larvæ are moved into the large cells and fed on this royal pabulum; they then become veritable queens. If, with us, the coat does not make the man nor the frock the monk, it is certain that with the bees the cradle helps materially to make the queen.When the queen through some accident or other has perished, the plebeian population of the hive very quickly perceive the misfortune, and without losing time in useless regrets, apply themselves to repair their loss. They choose the larva of a working bee, less than three days old, on which they bestow the treatment suited to change it into a female. The workers enlarge the cell of this grub by demolishing the surrounding cells, and administer to it a strong dose of royal food, to effect its transformation. This marvellous metamorphosis is accomplished like those which one reads of in fairy tales, where so many poor beggars are changed, by a wave of the hand, into beautiful princesses, covered with gold and precious stones. Only here the fairy tale is a true story; the poet's dream is a real phenomenon. According to Francis Huber, the larva intended to produce a female has to change its position. The workers add then to its domicile a sort of vertical tube, into which they push and turn round the young grub which is the hope of the community. For twelve days a bee, a sort of body-guard, has special charge of the person of our infant. It offers it food, and pays it many other delicate little attentions. When the moment for the metamorphosis has come, the orifice of the tube is closed, and the bees await the hatching of the new queen. Thus the loss of the queen is speedily replaced. The larvæ of the queens, when they are shut up in their cells, have the head downwards, whilst the larvæ of the males have the head upwards. Their hatching takes place thirteen days after the laying of the eggs.As soon as they have quitted their cradles, the young queens are ready to take flight. The others, workers and males, are less strongly organised. Before they are able to take a part in the sports and labours of the old ones they require a rest of twenty-four hours, during which the nurses lick them, brush them, and offer them honey. But the young workers require to undergo no apprenticeship before they do the work which devolves upon them. They go straight to their work, and suppress all apprenticeship. Nature is their guide and counsellor.When the hatching has begun, each day adds some hundreds ofyoung bees to the population of the hive, which is not long in becoming too small for the number of its inhabitants. It is then that those curious emigrations of this winged people take place which are calledswarms. The queen leaves the hive, with a part of her subjects, and founds a new colony elsewhere. In the climate of France the bees generally swarm in the months of May and June. In the south very thickly populated hives may furnish as many as four swarms in a season, but in the north rarely more than one or two. But in some years swarming does not take place at all, for the want of a sufficient population. In such cases the workers do not construct royal cells at the period when the eggs of the males are laid, and the swarming is put off till the following spring. It occasionally happens that a hive, although full of bees, cannot make up its mind to send out a swarm, and also that the hives thinly populated send out abundant swarms. There are, then, other causes than the excess of population which exercise an influence on this annual crisis in the life of bees. The first swarm is always led by the old queen; if other swarms succeed, it is the young females lately hatched who lead the way.There are many signs which announce that a swarm is going to take place. The appearance of the males, or drones, is one of the first signs. Another sign, but far from being infallible, is the excess of the population in the common home. The bees seem then to find themselves so ill at ease in their over-crowded hive, that part of them go out and keep outside, either on the stand upon which the hive is placed, or upon the hive itself. Crowds of bees may be seen heaped up on each other outside, only waiting for the signal of departure. But the least equivocal of all the signs, that which points out the event for the very day, says Réaumur, is when the bees of a hive do not go into the country in as great a number as usual, although the weather may be favourable and seem to invite them to do so. "There is no sign," says Réaumur, "which points out so surely that a swarm is preparing to take flight, as when, in the morning, at those hours when the sun shines, and when the weather is favourable for work, the bees go out in a small number from a hive from which they went out in great quantities on the preceding days, and bring back only a little rough wax. The fact of their acting in this manner seems to force us to concede to bees more intelligence and foresight than many people are inclined to allow that they possess; at any rate, it is exceedingly puzzling to those who wish to explain all their actions by saying that they are purely mechanical. Does it not seem proved that from the morning all the inhabitants ofa hive have been informed of the project which will be executed not before noon, or, perhaps, not for some hours after it?... There is a well-known story of an old grenadier, who, being comfortably asleep while his comrades were pitching their tents, answered to his general, M. de Turenne, when questioned on the subject, 'that he knew very well that the army would not remain long in the camp they were pitching.'"All our bees, or nearly all, seemed to have foreseen the move that their queen was about to make, as that old soldier had foreseen the general's order to his army."[88]In a hive which is going to "cast," as it is called in technical phraseology, there is often heard, in the evening, and even during the night, a peculiar humming. All seems to be in agitation. Sometimes, to hear the noise, it will be necessary to bring your ear close to the hive; you then will hear nothing but clear and sharp sounds, which seem to be produced by the flapping of the wings of one single bee. "Those who know better than I do the language of bees," says Réaumur, "have told marvels of these sounds. They pretend that it is the new queen that makes this noise; that she is, perhaps, haranguing the troops she wishes to go with her; or that, with a kind of trumpet, she animates them to undertake the great adventure. Charles Butler, the author of 'Female Monarchy,' attributes to this noise quite another signification. He says that it seems as if the bee which aspires to become queen supplicates the queen-mother, by lamentations and groans, to grant it permission to lead a colony out from the hive; that the queen does not yield sometimes to these touching prayers for two days; that when she does acquiesce, she answers the suppliant in a fuller and stronger voice; and that when you have heard the mother-bee grant this permission, you may hope next day to have a swarm.... Butler has determined all the modulations of the chant of the suppliant bee, the different keys to which they are set, as also those of the chants of the queen-mother. He pretends that it is not allowed to those who wish to raise themselves to a superior rank to imitate the chants of the sovereign; woe betide the young female if she should dare to do so! it would only be in a spirit of revolt, and she would be immediately punished by the loss of her head. The old-established queen does more than that: at the same moment she condemns to death those bees which had been seduced."[89]The true cause of this unusualnoise is the agitation of the wings of a great number of the bees in the middle of the hive.It has been remarked, that when about to swarm the bees seem as if mad. They lose their senses; the queen setting them the example. Francis Huber has made the most curious remarks on this subject. Here is, according to this immortal observer, what goes on in the hive when an emigration is about to take place:—The queen, being angry at the noise which the young females ready to be hatched are making in their cells, runs about the hive, examines the cells, and endeavours to destroy those which contain the females; but she meets with a very firm resistance from the workers, who take upon themselves to protect them. She endeavours here and there to lay an egg, but generally retires without having done so. She runs, stops short, sets off again, walks over the bodies of the workers she meets; sometimes, when she stops, the bees near her stop also, as if to look at her. They advance briskly towards her, strike her with their heads, and mount on her back. She then dashes off, carrying with her some of the workers. Not one of them offers her honey; she takes it herself from the open cells, which are for the use of the whole hive. They no longer draw up in line on each side of her as she moves along, her guard of honour no longer surrounds her; she seems fallen from her high rank.However, the first bees which were disturbed by her now follow, running like herself, and spread alarm in their turn among the rest of the population. The road which the queen has traversed is to be recognised by the excitement which she has caused on her passage, and which cannot now be calmed. Very soon she has visited every corner of the hive, so that the fever has become general. She now no longer lays her eggs in the cells, but lets them fall anywhere at random. She seems to have lost her wits.The nurses in their turn are attacked with the contagion. They pay no attention now to their charges. Those which return from the country have no sooner entered the hive than they take part in these tumultuous movements, and give themselves up to the general excitement. Not even thinking of depositing the pellets of pollen which they carry on their legs, they run about apparently without aim. The delirium takes possession of the whole republic. The end of all this is a general sortie. The whole hive, with the queen at its head, precipitates itself towards the door, and issues forth to create a swarm. Once in the fresh air, they become quiet; their madness subsides, and they fix themselves to a branch of a tree, and having been captured, set to work again as usual. Francis Huber oftenremarked that, in a swarm which had started, if the queen, who directed the flight, were seized and killed, immediately all the bees would return to the hive. It would seem that, having lost their chief, they acknowledged themselves incapable of forming a colony.A swarm never comes out except on a fine day, or, to speak more accurately, at an hour of the day when the sun is shining, when the air is calm, and the sky clear. It is generally between ten o'clock in the morning and three o'clock in the afternoon. "We observed," says Francis Huber, "in a hive all the signs which are the fore-runners of a cast for a swarm—disorder and agitation—but a cloud passed before the sun, and quiet was restored to the hive; the bees thought no more of swarming. An hour after, the sun having shown itself again, the tumult recommenced, increased very rapidly, and the swarm set out on its journey."[90]At the moment which precedes their exit, the buzzing increases in the hive. Some of the workers go out first, as if to ascertain the state of the atmosphere. The moment the queen has passed the threshold, the emigrants follow in a cloud behind her; in an instant the air is darkened with bees, which crowd together and form a thick cloud. The swarm rises, whirling round about in the air; it poises itself for a few minutes over the hive, to allow time to reconnoitre, and for the laggards to join, and then goes off at full speed.The queen does not make choice of the place where the company shall find shelter. When a branch of a tree has been selected by a certain number, they fix themselves on it. Many others follow them. When a great many have collected, the queen joins the throng, and brings in her train the rest of the troop. The group already formed becomes larger and larger every instant. Those which are still scattered about in the air hasten to join the majority, and very soon all together compose one solid mass or clump of bees clinging to each other by their legs. This cluster (Fig. 322) is sometimes spherical, sometimes pyramidal, and occasionally attains a weight of nine pounds, and may contain as many as 40,000 bees. From this moment, although they are uncovered, they remain still. In a quarter of an hour everything becomes quiet, and the bees cease to hover about the cluster more than round an ordinaryhive. Now is the moment to take possession of the swarm in a hive prepared beforehand to receive it. If delayed too long, the troop flies off, and establishes itself in some natural cavity, as the hollow of a tree, &c. The bees then return to their wild state.Under a warm climate, where flowers abound, the hives may cast several times in succession. The first swarm, however, is always the best. It is more numerous, and has before it more time to provision itself. If the weather remains favourable, it is not rare to see it send out a swarm itself three weeks after leaving the old hive. The old queen then leads the emigration of the second swarm, abandoning the colony she had lately founded. If the original hive sends forth several swarms, the interval between the first and the second is from seven to ten days; the third and the fourth follow at shorter intervals. But these late casts have rarely vitality enough to exist long.
VI.
HYMENOPTERA.
The Order Hymenoptera comprises those insects which have four naked membranous wings, lying in repose horizontally upon the body, and intersected by a network of nerves. The name is derived from two Greek words—ὑμην, a membrane, and πτερον, a wing. The mouth is composed of two horny mandibles, jaws, and lips adapted for suction.
It is amongst the Hymenoptera that we meet with the most industrious insects, some of which seem to possess real intelligence. These little animals offer the most admirable examples of sociability. Born architects, they construct dwellings marvellously contrived, which serve them, at the same time, as nurseries in which to rear their progeny, and storehouses in which to lay by their provisions. Nothing can equal the solicitude with which they watch over their young larvæ, still incapable of motion. They form republics, governed by immutable laws, and make war against their enemies in order of battle. They have predilections or antipathies for those who court their society, on account of the material advantages they derive from them.
The Bees, the Humble Bees, the Wasps, and the Ants, are the best-known types of this order of insects. Among a great number of the Hymenoptera the females are armed with a sting, or lancet, a wound from which causes great pain. All these insects undergo complete metamorphoses. In the larva state the aculeate species are incapable of motion and of obtaining food; but Nature has provided in different ways for their preservation. They are often lodged and fed by the workers of the tribe, unfruitful females, which, with a self-denial very rare in Nature, seem to have no other vocation than to sacrifice themselves to the welfare of the larvæ. The workers construct the nest and bring in the provisions. This is the case with honey bees, wasps, and ants.
Some deposit their eggs in the bodies of other insects, which die immediately the larvæ which live in them have attained their full development. The larvæ of theChalcididæand of theIchneumonidæfurnish examples of Hymenoptera which inhabit the interior of the body of another insect. Other parasitical species carry on their depredations in a different way. They content themselves with laying their eggs in the nests of other species of the order, which have the advantage over them in being able to construct for themselves places of refuge. Their larvæ live thus on their neighbours' goods, nourishing themselves on the provisions which were laid up for others. In this way live theCleptes, theChrysides, &c. Lastly, others, such as the Gall-insects, and theTenthredinetæ, or Saw-flies, live in their first state exposed on plants, and feed upon their leaves.
We shall only here describe the principal families of the Order Hymenoptera, which contains a considerable number of species. These families will be—1st. TheApiariæ, containing the Honey Bees, theMelipodes, and the Humble Bees. 2nd. TheVespiariæ, or Wasps. 3rd. TheFormicariæ, or Ants. 4th. TheGallicolæ, or Gall-insects.
Bees.—Man, from the very earliest age, before any civilisation existed, knew the value of bees, and took advantage of the products of these industrious insects. The Bible makes mention of honey bees. Their Hebrew name isDeborah. The Greeks called them by the name ofMelissa, orMelitta.
Their wonderful architectural powers, their economical forethought, the wonderful combination of their reasonings, which denote a real intelligence, their admirable social organisation, have in all times fixed the attention of naturalists, as they have also that of poets and thinkers. Virgil has celebrated them. In the fourth book of his Georgics, the Latin poet has summed up all that the ancients knew about bees. He paints with a good deal of truth many traits in their history, points out their enemies, and sets forth with accuracy all the care that should be taken of them. In the words of the Mantuan poet, they are heavenly gifts,dona cælestia, and their intelligence excited his admiration:—
"His quibus signis atque hæc exempla secuti,Esse apibus partem divinæ mentis, et haustusÆthereos dixere." ...
Let us hasten to say, however, that all which the ancients, naturalists or poets, Greek or Latin, relate on the subject of bees, is a mixture of truth and error, and rests generally on mere supposition.Aristotle knew well the three sorts of individuals which are comprised under the title of bees, and some other principal facts relating to their history; but these facts are not stated accurately and precisely in his account of them, and they are, above all, misinterpreted. The Greek philosopher understood insects in general very badly. He made them spring from the leaves of trees, and brought forward a multitude of errors about them, which the most simple observation would have sufficed to dissipate. Pliny tells us that Aristomachus of Soles consecrated fifty-eight years to the observation of the habits of the bee, and that Philiscus of Thrace passed, for the same motive, all his life in the forests. But this devotion to one object does not appear to have produced much result, if one compares the discoveries of our own age with the errors which Pliny, Aristotle, and Columella have chronicled respecting them. Pliny says that bees occupy the first rank among insects, and that they were created for man, for whom their work procures honey and wax. He adds that they form political associations, that they have councils, chiefs, and even a code of morality and principles.
One sees by this opinion of the Roman naturalist in what high esteem the ancients held bees. But they had the most singular ideas on the reproduction of these little beings; and as no one had ever seen their generation, they invented fable after fable to explain their origin. Some pretended that bees sprang from an ox recently killed, and buried in manure. Others added that they only sprang into existence from the chest of a young ox killed with violence. The most courageous bees came from the belly of a lion in a state of putrefaction. It was from the head of this same animal, in a state of corruption, that thekings(i.e., thequeens) were formed. The carcases of cows furnished the mild and tractable bees; a calf could only furnish small and weak ones. Other naturalists, or rather other dreamers, made these insects spring from the calices of sweet-scented flowers. Combined and separated in a certain manner, the flowers engendered bees. They said, further, that the bees sought on the blossoms of the olive trees and of the reed a seed which they rendered fit for the formation of their larvæ.
All these fables, which sprang from the imagination of the ancients, were developed by a writer of the Renaissance, a certain Alexander de Montfort, author of a work entitled "Printemps de l'Abeille." If we were to believe him, the king of the bees is formed of the juice which the workers extract from plants. These latter are created from honey; and the tyrants,i.e., the females, which do not manage to become sovereigns of a hive, are formed only of gum.It will be seen that he had profited only too well by what he had read in Greek and Roman authors.
The bee was very much thought of in ancient Egypt, and is often represented on their monuments, above the sculptured ornaments which contain proper names, with two semicircles and a sort of sheaf, or fasciculus. Champollion Figeac thinks that this group, taken together, represents a title added to a proper name. According to Hor-Apollon, another commentator on Egyptian hieroglyphics, the bee in the country of the Pharaohs was the emblem of a people sweetly submissive to the orders of its king. Nothing can be better than this comparison. It was for this reason, no doubt, that Napoleon I. sprinkled the symbolical bees over the imperial mantle which bears the arms of his dynasty.
All the fables, all the hypotheses, spread about and cherished by the ancients respecting these industrious little insects, were dissipated in a moment when, by the invention of glass bee-hives, first made in the beginning of the last century by Maraldi, a mathematician of Nice, we were enabled to observe their operations and habits. It is from this period only that our exact knowledge of the really wonderful life of these insects dates. Before Maraldi, the Dutch naturalist, Swammerdam, had written an excellent "History of Bees." He died before he had published his work, and when, a long while after his death, it was at length printed, other investigators had already pushed on their observations further than he had. Thanks to the invention of Maraldi, Réaumur, John Hunter, Schirach, and Francis Huber, had unveiled, by their admirable researches, the wonderful habits of these insects. The discoveries of Francis Huber seem to be almost miraculous, when we remember that this observer was blind from the age of seventeen.
Deprived of sight, Francis Huber did not the less wish to consecrate his life to the observation and the study of Nature. He caused the best works of his day on natural history and physics to be read to him, his usual reader being his servant, named Francis Burnens, a native of the Pays de Vaud. The honest Burnens took a singular interest in all he read, and showed by his judicious reflections the true talent of an observer, and Huber resolved to cultivate his talent. Very soon he could place implicit reliance in his companion, and see with another's eyes as if they were his own.
The two naturalists (we do not hesitate to give this title to the poor peasant of the canton of Vaud who so well seconded his master in his long hours of study) conceived a host of original experiments, which led them to discover truths which no one up to that time haddreamt of. The results of their researches were published, in 1789, in a volume which produced a profound sensation among naturalists.[81]Burnens was at a later period called back to the bosom of his family, and invested by his fellow-citizens with important functions. Francis Huber then continued his observations through the eyes of the excellent wife he had married. A second volume was thus composed by him twenty years after the appearance of the first. This volume was published by his son, Pierre Huber, to whom we are indebted for the admirable researches concerning ants, of which we shall have to speak further on.
We will now speak of the habits of the bees. The labours of Réaumur, of Schirach, and of Huber, have perfectly revealed them to us, and have initiated us completely into the habits of these precious insects, which are for us to a certain extent domestic animals. We will begin by describing the Common Bee (Apis mellifica).
During the greater part of the year the population of our hives is composed exclusively of two sorts of individuals—the female, or mother bee, called also the queen bee; and the working bees, or neuters, which are, properly speaking, females incompletely developed. A third kind of individuals, the males, called also drones, are generally not met with except from May to July.
Fig. 309.Working Bee(Apis mellifica).
The working bees are the people, the crowd, theservum pecus, the living force, the bee community. They are recognised by their small size, reddish brown colour, and, above all, by the palettes and brushes with which the hind legs are furnished.
The three pairs of legs which are inserted in its thorax are its tools. The two hind-legs are longer than the other pairs, and present on the exterior a triangular depression, resembling apalette, which is surrounded by stiff hairs, forming, as it were, the borders of a sort of basket, in which the insect deposits the pollen of flowers. The broadest part of the leg articulates with the tarsus, which is of a square form, smooth on the exterior, and having hairs on its interior surface, which has caused it to be named the brush. The joint is used for gathering the pollen; it folds back on the leg (Fig. 310), and forms with it a sort of small pair of pincers; and, finally, the legis terminated by four smaller articulations, the last of which is armed with hooks. The other tools of the working bee consist of a pair of movable mandibles, which close the mouth on its two sides, and of a trunk or proboscis (Fig. 311), which may be considered as a sort of tongue.
With its mandibles the working bee seizes any hard substance. The trunk serves it to collect the juice lying on the surface of the petals, or at the bottom of the corolla of the flower. When a bee has settled on a full-blown flower, it is seen immediately to make for the interior of the corolla, to put out its trunk, and apply it to the petals; it lengthens, shortens, and twists and bends it in all directions. When the hairy surface of this organ is covered with vegetable juice, the bee returns it to its mouth, and deposits the booty in a conduit, whence the juice passes into the first stomach. This trunk is then, in all respects, a tongue, with which the bee sucks, licks, and pumps up the honey of flowers. But it also gathers the pollen. When it enters a flower the bee covers itself with pollen from head to foot, and then passing its brushes carefully over its whole body, removes the dust which adheres to it in every part, and piles it up on the triangular palettes of its hind-legs, in such a manner as to form balls of greater or less size. If the flower is not quite full blown, the bee makes use of its mandibles to open the anthers, in which case thefront pair of legs transmit the booty to the second pair, which stores them in the baskets of the third. When it has gathered as much as it can carry, the bee returns to the hive, its legs laden with pollen.
This complete set of tools which we have just described is only to be met with among the working bees. The males, or drones (Fig. 312), larger and more hairy than the working bees, emitting a sonorous and buzzing sound, have no palettes on their legs, the hairs on their tarsi are not appropriated to the work of gathering, their mandibles are shorter, and they have noaculeus, or sting, which is the working bee's weapon.
The female, or queen (Fig. 313), is smaller than the male, and has a longer body than the working bees, and the wings, shorter in proportion, cover only the half of its body, whereas with the other bees they cover it entirely. The only part she has to play is that of laying eggs, and so she has no palettes and brushes. The sovereign is, as suits her supreme rank, exempted from all work. She is always escorted by a certain number of working bees, who brush her, lick her, present honey to her with their trunks, save her every kind of fatigue, and compose a train worthy of her feminine majesty. One very remarkable fact is that only one queen lives in each hive. Perfect sovereign of this tiny state, she rules over a people of some thousands of workers. It is not rare to find 20,000 working bees in a hive, and all submissively obey their sovereign. The number of males is scarcely one-tenth part of that of the working bees; and they only live about three months. The workers represent the active life of the community.
"The exterior of a hive," says M. Victor Rendre, "gives the best idea of this people, essentially laborious. From sunrise to sunset, all is movement, diligence, bustle; it is an incessant series of goings and comings, of various operations which begin, continue, and end, to be recommenced. Hundreds of bees arrive from the fields, ladenwith materials and provisions; others cross them and go in their turn into the country. Here, cautious sentinels scrutinise every fresh arrival; there, purveyors, in a hurry to be back at work again, stop at the entrance to the hive, where other bees unload them of their burdens; elsewhere it is a working bee which engages in a hand-to-hand encounter with a rash stranger; farther on the surveyors of the hive clear it of everything which might interfere with the traffic or be prejudicial to health; at another point the workers are occupied in drawing out the dead body of one of their companions; all the outlets are besieged by a crowd of bees coming in and going out, the doors hardly suffice for this hurrying, busy multitude. All appears disorder and confusion at the approaches to the hive, but this tumult is only so in appearance; an admirable order presides over this emulation in their work, which is the distinctive feature in bees."[82]A very simple calculation may serve to give us an idea of this prodigious activity. The opening of a well-stocked hive gives passage to one hundred bees a minute, which makes, from five o'clock in the morning till seven o'clock in the evening, eighty thousand re-entrances, or four excursions for each bee, supposing there is a population of twenty thousand workers.
Let us now follow their occupations from the moment in which they establish themselves in a hive. The workers begin by stopping up all the openings except one door, which is always to remain open. A certain number set out to look for a resinous and sweet-scented substance, known under the name ofpropolis, which is destined to cover the inner surface of the hive, as its name shows, which is derived from a Greek word signifying outskirts, or suburb. Huber asserts that it is gathered from the buds of plants. This substance has not yet been employed in the arts, although it possesses the same qualities as wax, as M. de Frarière remarks in his work "On Bees and Bee-keeping."[83]The propolis is employed in Italy for making blisters. This gum is viscous and very adherent. The bee works it up into balls, and carries it in this form to the hive, where other labourers take possession of it. They seize the pellet with their mandibles, and apply it to cracks which they have to make air-tight. They use the propolis for another purpose still, which deserves to be mentioned.
It happens sometimes that an enemy penetrates into their hive, and that the bees are not strong enough to cast this intruder out of their dwelling. What do they do? As soon as they have discoveredthe invasion of their domicile, they set upon the impudent intruder, and sting him to death. But how can they drag out the dead body, which is often very heavy? such, for instance, as a slug. On the other hand, it would be dangerous to abandon its carcase in the midst of the hive. A Roman Emperor said that the dead bodies of our enemies always smelt good. This is not the opinion of the bees. They know that if they abandon the carcase in the hive it would infect the place, to the great danger of their health. They therefore embalm it. They encase it in propolis, which preserves it from putrefaction. It is said that the art of embalming was practised for the first time by the ancient Egyptians. It is an error: the first inventors of this art were bees.
If, instead of a slug, it is a snail whose evil genius has conducted it into the interior of a beehive, the proceeding is more simple. The moment he has received one sting, the snail retires under the protecting roof of his movable house. The bees thereupon at once wall him in by closing the opening to his shell with this material. The shell is then cemented to the floor of the hive, and the house of the poor mollusc, become its tomb, remains thus in the midst of the hive, as a sort of decorative tumulus. When the sides of the hive are well closed, the bees lay the foundations of their cells.
It was not formerly so easy to observe the details of the work done by the bees as it is at the present day; for these insects, once in their hives, have a great aversion to the light. If they are put into a glazed hive, their first care is to shut up all the windows, either by plastering them over with propolis, or by forming, by means of the well-marshalled battalion of working bees, a sort of living curtain. In order to be able to take them unawares, and study them at his own convenience, Huber constructed a hive with leaves, which opened like a book.Fig. 314, which represents the hive with leaves, which is sometimes used, gives an idea of the plan adopted by Huber in order to enable him at will to open the hive and surprise its inmates. Huber had also recourse in certain cases to a glass cage placed in the interior of the hive, and which he could easily move to the light.
Fig. 314.—Bee-hive in Leaves.Fig. 314.—Bee-hive in Leaves.
Thanks to his ingenuity, Huber was able to follow the working bees in all the various phases of their labours. When they begin to construct their hives they divide the work among themselves. A first detachment is employed to gather the wax, which is the building stone of our little architects. It was thought for a long time that wax was solely the pollen of flowers, elaborated in the stomach of bees, and then disgorged by the mouth. It was reserved for a peasant of Lusac to be the first to discover the true nature of this secretion. Thisobserver, who did not belong to any school, or at most belonged to Nature's school, found the flakes of wax sticking between the lower arches of the rings of the abdomen or belly of the working bee. The wax, then, is produced by the insect by exudation, and is not simply the pollen gathered from flowers. Huber himself states that bees exclusively nourished on pollen do not secrete wax, and that, on the contrary, they do furnish it when they eat saccharine matter. It is easy to perceive the little plates of wax by slightly raising the last rings of the bee's abdomen.Fig. 315represents a bee very heavily laden with this matter.
Fig. 315.—Bee seen through a magnifying glass at the moment when the plates of wax appear between the segments of the abdomen.Fig. 315.—Bee seen through a magnifying glass at the moment when the plates of wax appear between the segments of the abdomen.
The working bees suspend themselves from the roof of the hive in such a manner as to form festoons. The first clings to the roof with his front legs, the second hooks himself on to the hind legs of the first, and so on, as is shown inFig. 316. They in this manner formchains, fixed by the two ends to the roof, which serve as a bridge or ladder to the bees which join this assembly.
Fig. 316.—Clusters of Bees.Fig. 316.—Clusters of Bees.
The result of all this is at last a cluster or swarm of bees which hangs down to the bottom of the hive. In this attitude they remain at first motionless, waiting till the honey in their stomachs is changed into wax. When the wax is sufficiently elaborated in its organs, one of them detaches itself from the group of which it forms a part. It takes between its legs one of the flakes of wax adhering to the rings of its abdomen, kneads it with its mandibles, moistens it with its saliva, and gives it the appearance of a soft filament, which it sticks on to a projecting point of the roof. To this first layer it adds others, till it has exhausted all its wax. Then it leaves its post, and returns to the fields; another worker—another mason, as they are sometimes called—succeeds it, and continues the laying of the foundations. Presently shapeless blocks of wax hang down from the roof. It is in these blocks that other workers, with their mandibles, hollow out and form the first cells. While the workers continue to prolong the foundation-wall, and whilst the first cells are being shaped, new ones are roughly sketched out or rough-hewn, and the work advances with a marvellous rapidity.
Each cell forms a small hexagonal cup, closed on one side only by a pyramidal base, produced by the meeting together of three rhombs. The honeycombs are the result of two layers of cells placed back to back, arranged in such a way that the bases of the one become the bases of the other, the base of each little cell being formed by the union of the bases of three opposite cells. The bees begin by forming the base of the cell; they then add the six sides, or walls, which are to complete the hexagonal cup. At the same time others set to work on the opposite side of the comb, and construct little cells back to back with the cells of the front surface. They do not finish them off at once. The walls are at first very thick: new workers, who succeed those who merely mark out the work, being occupied in planing down the rough-hewn cells, and in reducing the walls to the desired thickness. This work is accomplished with an incredible celerity, for the bees can build as many as 4,000 cells in twenty-four hours. There is very good reason for the hexagonal form being adopted by the bees in constructing their cells, as it involves a question of economy, which these insects have solved in their most admirable manner.
Fig. 317.—Cells constructed by Bees.
"When one has well examined," says Réaumur,[84]"the true shapeof each cell, when one has studied their arrangement, geometry seems to have guided the design for the whole work, and to have presided over its execution. One finds that all the advantages which could have been desired are here combined. The bees seem to have had to solve a problem containing conditions which would have made the solution appear to be difficult to many geometricians. This problem may be thus enunciated:—Given a quantity of matter, say of wax, it is required to form cells which shall be equal and similar to each other, of a determined capacity, but as large as possible in proportion to the quantity of matter which is employed, and the cells to be so placed that they may occupy the least possible space in the hive. To satisfy this last condition, the cells should touch each other in such a manner that there may remain no angular space between them, no gap to fill up. The bees have satisfied these conditions, and at the same time they have satisfied the first conditions of the problem in making cells which are tubes having six equal sides, or in other words, hexagonal tubes.... We see still further that the best thing the beescould do to economise their space and materials, was to compose their honeycombs of two rows of cells turned in opposite directions."
Fig. 318.—The cells of a Bee-hive.Fig. 318.—The cells of a Bee-hive.A, large cell intended for the larvæ of thequeens.B, middling-sized cells intended for the larvæ of themales.C, small cells intended for the larvæ of theworkers.
This arrangement, it will be seen, enables them to economise the half of the wax intended for making the bases of the cells. They economise it still more by making the bases and the sides of the tubes extremely thin; the borders only of the comb being fortified by an excess of wax. These two-sided combs descend from the roof of the hive in parallel series, their thickness being about half an inch. They are fixed to the top by a sort of wax foot, and fastened to the sides by numerous bands. The bees pass between the rows, besides excavating circular openings, which serve as doors of communication. The form and the general arrangement of these buildings are otherwise very varied, according to circumstances. The bees always accommodate themselves to the nature of the hive.
In all these operations they exhibit great judgment. It is impossible, when one has once seen them at work, to look on them as mere organised machines, whose instinct is their spring of action; we are forced to concede to them intelligence.
The cells are of three dimensions: the small ones intended for the larvæ of the workers, the middling-sized ones for the larvæ of the males, and the large ones for the larvæ of the queens.
These last—that is, theroyal cells—are generally only about twenty in number, in a hive containing 20,000 bees. Constructed of a mixture of wax and of propolis, resembling a rounded thimble, they form tubes of half an inch long, turned towards the exterior, and placed always vertically, in such a manner as to appear detached from the comb.
The weight of aroyal cellis equivalent to that of a hundred other cells. The bees spare nothing to make it comfortable and spacious. "It is quite a Louvre," says Réaumur.
But independently of their use as cradles, these cells serve as storehouses for honey.
A few of these are used in turn for both these purposes, but a great number are reserved exclusively for stores of honey and pollen. This is brought, as we have already said, in the form of pellets, inthe baskets which the hind legs form. The working bee, when it has gathered it, pushes it into the cell, pressing it with its hind-legs. Another then arrives, and kneads up the mass to make it adhesive. The bee brings the honey in its first stomach, and disgorges it into one of the cells where it is to be kept. However, it is not always by carrying its honey into a cell that the worker is relieved of it, often finding an opportunity to deliver it on the way.
Fig. 319.—Interior of a Hive.
"When it meets," says Réaumur,[85]"any of its companions who want food, and who have not had time to go and get any, it stops, erects and stretches out its trunk, so that the opening by which the honey may be taken out is a little way beyond the mandibles. It pushes the honey towards this opening. The other bees, who know well enough that it is from there they must take it, introduce the end of their trunks and suck it up. The bee which has not been stopped on its road, often goes to the places where other bees are working,that is, to those places where other bees are occupied, either in constructing new cells, or in polishing or bordering the cells already built; it offers them honey, as if to prevent them from being under the necessity of leaving their work to go and get it themselves."
The honey which fills the store cells is intended for daily consumption, and also intended as a reserve for the period when the flowers furnish no more. The empty cells are left open, the workers making use of them when they want them, particularly during rainy days, which keep them at home. But the cells which contain the honey put by in reserve are closed. "They are," says Réaumur, "like so many pots of jam or jelly, each one of which has its covering, and a very solid covering it is too." This covering, composed of wax, hermetically seals the pots containing this reserve of honey. The object of this is to keep the honey in a certain state of liquidity, by preventing the evaporation of the water it contains. It is a remarkable fact that it does not run out of the cells which are open, although their position is almost always horizontal. This is because there are always in the sides of these narrow tubes points enough to keep it in, and that besides this the last layer of honey is always of greater consistency than the liquid in the interior, and upon which it forms a sort of crust.
When the harvest has been abundant, many combs of closed cells may be found in each hive, perfect storehouses of abundance, furnished for the wants of the bad season. When the construction of the cells goes on well—often on the day after the bees have installed themselves in their hive—the queen goes out to meet the males. At the hour when these are accustomed to disport themselves in the sun, that is to say, from noon till five o'clock, she leaves the hive, whirls about for a few seconds, and disappears into the air. At the end of half an hour she returns, pregnant.
When the female returns to the hive, she istheobject of every attention, the workers pressing round her, and forming quite a train. Many approach her, and lick the surface of her body; others brush her, caress her, and present her their trunks full of honey. Forty-eight hours after her return to the hive the mother bee generally begins laying.[86]Running over the honeycomb, she deposits an egg in each empty cell, and fixes it to the bottom by means of a glutinous secretion, in such a way that the egg is suspended in the interior of the cell. They have the appearance of little oblong bodies, of a bluish white. If the queen, in a hurry to lay, lets more than one eggfall into the same cell, the workers who accompany her hasten to carry out and destroy those that are in excess. This is often the case when the combs have not enough cells to contain all the eggs laid. We have said that the queen only lays worker eggs at this time; the others are laid later. She continues to lay until the cold weather approaches, when she ceases to do so, and does not resume her occupation until the return of spring. This laying is very abundant. The queen produces at least two hundred eggs a day; so that in the space of two months she lays more than twelve thousand. Towards the eleventh month of her existence in the perfect state, the queen begins laying the eggs which will produce males, their number varying from 1,500 to 3,000; the deposition of these eggs occupies about a month.
Towards the twentieth day, the workers lay the foundations of some royal cells. When these cells have attained a certain length, the queen deposits an egg in each, allowing, however, one or two days to intervene between the laying of these privileged eggs, so that the young queens to whom they are to give birth should not be hatched all at the same time, which would cause difficulties and even wars concerning the right of their succession to the throne. This complication human governments have not been always able to avoid, as history shows; but the bees have found out a way of doing so.
The distribution of the eggs in the cells is not left to chance. Each egg, according to the sex to which it belongs, is deposited in the cell which awaits it. The eggs of the females do not, however, differ in any way from those of the workers. The difference in their development depends entirely on the space and food allowed them.
We represent (Fig. 320) a portion of a comb containing the eggs placed in the cells, as also the royal cells. The regular order of laying is such as we have just described, but the result is quite different when the impregnation of the queen has been retarded by an accidental captivity of two or three weeks. The longer this delay, the greater will be the number of male eggs. If the queen is shut up for more than twenty days after her birth, she can then lay nothing but male eggs during the remainder of her existence. It seems, also, that this delay troubles her intellect; for she then often makes blunders as to the cells. She lays the eggs of the males, or drones, in the cradles prepared for the queens, and thus brings confusion into the future community.
The eggs, once laid, are left to the care of the working bees, which Réaumur called the nurses, in opposition to the wax-workers, which are employed in works of construction. According to manybee-keepers, and especially M. Hamet,[87]this division of duties is not positive. The young workers are the wax-workers; the old ones, collectors of honey, and nurses. However, when the honey-harvest is at its height, all the workers collect the spoil. Every individual is pressed into the service at the harvest time, as with men.
Fig. 320.—Portion of the comb, with the eggs occupying the cells. One of the royal cells has been opened by the queen.Fig. 320.—Portion of the comb, with the eggs occupying the cells. One of the royal cells has been opened by the queen.
The eggs are not long in being hatched. From the moment when the larva comes out of the egg till that of its metamorphosis into a pupa, it keeps in its cell, rolled up, motionless as an Indian idol in its sacred temple. The working bees visit it from time to time, to see that it wants for nothing, and to renew its provisions. They also carefully inspect the different cells, and assure themselves of the good condition of their nurslings. The pap which they give them as food is whitish, and resembles paste made of flour. It is apparently a preparation of pollen, prepared in the body of the insect. As the larvæ increase in size, their food is made to acquire a more decided taste ofhoney, and to become even slightly acid. It seems, then, that the bees know how to graduate the food of their larvæ in such a manner as to bring it nearer by degrees to honey.
Fig. 321.—Larva of the Bee (magnified).Fig. 321.Larva of the Bee(magnified).
In the space of five days the larvæ are developed; they have absorbed all their pap, and have no need from that time of any nourishment, for they are about now to change into pupæ. Now the nurses pay them a last attention. They wall them up in their cells, closing the openings with a waxen covering. The larvæ then get close to the wax covering. In thirty-six hours they have spun for themselves a silky cocoon, in which they undergo their transformation into pupæ. The moult, which precedes their metamorphosis, constitutes a crisis, as with the caterpillars of Lepidoptera.
The perfect insect is hatched seven or eight days after its transformation into a pupa, the organs being developed little by little, and the young bee is then ready to appear in the broad daylight. It breaks through the thin transparent covering in which it is still swathed; then, with its mandibles, it pierces the operculum, or door of its prison, and opens a way for itself by which it can issue forth. With the assistance of its front legs it clings to the rim of the cell, and draws itself forward, till it has set free the whole of its body. The other bees lavish upon this newly-arrived little stranger all possible attention, to make its entrance into the world easy and agreeable; assisting and supporting it till it has become quite strong. It very soon becomes strong. If it is a working bee, it is not long in getting to work and in mixing with its companions in labour.
This is the way in which the hatching of ordinary bees takes place, workers and males; the first, twenty days after they are laid; the second, twenty-four days after. The rearing and birth of the young queens is slightly different. In proportion as the larvæ increase in size do the workers enlarge the cells which contain them; and then again gradually diminish their size as the moment of their last metamorphosis approaches. A special and peculiar food is given to the larvæ of the queens; it is quite different from that which is given to the larvæ of the working bees, being a heavier and sweeter substance. This special food seems to exercise such an energetic influence on the development of the ovaries, that simple workers which have accidentally received any of it, during their larval state, become pregnant and lay a few eggs. But this anomalous development remains imperfect, because the prolific food was only administered in a small quantity. Besides which, the size of the cells is of great importanceto the development of the larvæ imprisoned in them; and so the larvæ of working bees, having lived in the small cells, can never attain the proportions of the queen, nor acquire her fecundity. But all this is changed if these larvæ are moved into the large cells and fed on this royal pabulum; they then become veritable queens. If, with us, the coat does not make the man nor the frock the monk, it is certain that with the bees the cradle helps materially to make the queen.
When the queen through some accident or other has perished, the plebeian population of the hive very quickly perceive the misfortune, and without losing time in useless regrets, apply themselves to repair their loss. They choose the larva of a working bee, less than three days old, on which they bestow the treatment suited to change it into a female. The workers enlarge the cell of this grub by demolishing the surrounding cells, and administer to it a strong dose of royal food, to effect its transformation. This marvellous metamorphosis is accomplished like those which one reads of in fairy tales, where so many poor beggars are changed, by a wave of the hand, into beautiful princesses, covered with gold and precious stones. Only here the fairy tale is a true story; the poet's dream is a real phenomenon. According to Francis Huber, the larva intended to produce a female has to change its position. The workers add then to its domicile a sort of vertical tube, into which they push and turn round the young grub which is the hope of the community. For twelve days a bee, a sort of body-guard, has special charge of the person of our infant. It offers it food, and pays it many other delicate little attentions. When the moment for the metamorphosis has come, the orifice of the tube is closed, and the bees await the hatching of the new queen. Thus the loss of the queen is speedily replaced. The larvæ of the queens, when they are shut up in their cells, have the head downwards, whilst the larvæ of the males have the head upwards. Their hatching takes place thirteen days after the laying of the eggs.
As soon as they have quitted their cradles, the young queens are ready to take flight. The others, workers and males, are less strongly organised. Before they are able to take a part in the sports and labours of the old ones they require a rest of twenty-four hours, during which the nurses lick them, brush them, and offer them honey. But the young workers require to undergo no apprenticeship before they do the work which devolves upon them. They go straight to their work, and suppress all apprenticeship. Nature is their guide and counsellor.
When the hatching has begun, each day adds some hundreds ofyoung bees to the population of the hive, which is not long in becoming too small for the number of its inhabitants. It is then that those curious emigrations of this winged people take place which are calledswarms. The queen leaves the hive, with a part of her subjects, and founds a new colony elsewhere. In the climate of France the bees generally swarm in the months of May and June. In the south very thickly populated hives may furnish as many as four swarms in a season, but in the north rarely more than one or two. But in some years swarming does not take place at all, for the want of a sufficient population. In such cases the workers do not construct royal cells at the period when the eggs of the males are laid, and the swarming is put off till the following spring. It occasionally happens that a hive, although full of bees, cannot make up its mind to send out a swarm, and also that the hives thinly populated send out abundant swarms. There are, then, other causes than the excess of population which exercise an influence on this annual crisis in the life of bees. The first swarm is always led by the old queen; if other swarms succeed, it is the young females lately hatched who lead the way.
There are many signs which announce that a swarm is going to take place. The appearance of the males, or drones, is one of the first signs. Another sign, but far from being infallible, is the excess of the population in the common home. The bees seem then to find themselves so ill at ease in their over-crowded hive, that part of them go out and keep outside, either on the stand upon which the hive is placed, or upon the hive itself. Crowds of bees may be seen heaped up on each other outside, only waiting for the signal of departure. But the least equivocal of all the signs, that which points out the event for the very day, says Réaumur, is when the bees of a hive do not go into the country in as great a number as usual, although the weather may be favourable and seem to invite them to do so. "There is no sign," says Réaumur, "which points out so surely that a swarm is preparing to take flight, as when, in the morning, at those hours when the sun shines, and when the weather is favourable for work, the bees go out in a small number from a hive from which they went out in great quantities on the preceding days, and bring back only a little rough wax. The fact of their acting in this manner seems to force us to concede to bees more intelligence and foresight than many people are inclined to allow that they possess; at any rate, it is exceedingly puzzling to those who wish to explain all their actions by saying that they are purely mechanical. Does it not seem proved that from the morning all the inhabitants ofa hive have been informed of the project which will be executed not before noon, or, perhaps, not for some hours after it?... There is a well-known story of an old grenadier, who, being comfortably asleep while his comrades were pitching their tents, answered to his general, M. de Turenne, when questioned on the subject, 'that he knew very well that the army would not remain long in the camp they were pitching.'
"All our bees, or nearly all, seemed to have foreseen the move that their queen was about to make, as that old soldier had foreseen the general's order to his army."[88]
In a hive which is going to "cast," as it is called in technical phraseology, there is often heard, in the evening, and even during the night, a peculiar humming. All seems to be in agitation. Sometimes, to hear the noise, it will be necessary to bring your ear close to the hive; you then will hear nothing but clear and sharp sounds, which seem to be produced by the flapping of the wings of one single bee. "Those who know better than I do the language of bees," says Réaumur, "have told marvels of these sounds. They pretend that it is the new queen that makes this noise; that she is, perhaps, haranguing the troops she wishes to go with her; or that, with a kind of trumpet, she animates them to undertake the great adventure. Charles Butler, the author of 'Female Monarchy,' attributes to this noise quite another signification. He says that it seems as if the bee which aspires to become queen supplicates the queen-mother, by lamentations and groans, to grant it permission to lead a colony out from the hive; that the queen does not yield sometimes to these touching prayers for two days; that when she does acquiesce, she answers the suppliant in a fuller and stronger voice; and that when you have heard the mother-bee grant this permission, you may hope next day to have a swarm.... Butler has determined all the modulations of the chant of the suppliant bee, the different keys to which they are set, as also those of the chants of the queen-mother. He pretends that it is not allowed to those who wish to raise themselves to a superior rank to imitate the chants of the sovereign; woe betide the young female if she should dare to do so! it would only be in a spirit of revolt, and she would be immediately punished by the loss of her head. The old-established queen does more than that: at the same moment she condemns to death those bees which had been seduced."[89]The true cause of this unusualnoise is the agitation of the wings of a great number of the bees in the middle of the hive.
It has been remarked, that when about to swarm the bees seem as if mad. They lose their senses; the queen setting them the example. Francis Huber has made the most curious remarks on this subject. Here is, according to this immortal observer, what goes on in the hive when an emigration is about to take place:—The queen, being angry at the noise which the young females ready to be hatched are making in their cells, runs about the hive, examines the cells, and endeavours to destroy those which contain the females; but she meets with a very firm resistance from the workers, who take upon themselves to protect them. She endeavours here and there to lay an egg, but generally retires without having done so. She runs, stops short, sets off again, walks over the bodies of the workers she meets; sometimes, when she stops, the bees near her stop also, as if to look at her. They advance briskly towards her, strike her with their heads, and mount on her back. She then dashes off, carrying with her some of the workers. Not one of them offers her honey; she takes it herself from the open cells, which are for the use of the whole hive. They no longer draw up in line on each side of her as she moves along, her guard of honour no longer surrounds her; she seems fallen from her high rank.
However, the first bees which were disturbed by her now follow, running like herself, and spread alarm in their turn among the rest of the population. The road which the queen has traversed is to be recognised by the excitement which she has caused on her passage, and which cannot now be calmed. Very soon she has visited every corner of the hive, so that the fever has become general. She now no longer lays her eggs in the cells, but lets them fall anywhere at random. She seems to have lost her wits.
The nurses in their turn are attacked with the contagion. They pay no attention now to their charges. Those which return from the country have no sooner entered the hive than they take part in these tumultuous movements, and give themselves up to the general excitement. Not even thinking of depositing the pellets of pollen which they carry on their legs, they run about apparently without aim. The delirium takes possession of the whole republic. The end of all this is a general sortie. The whole hive, with the queen at its head, precipitates itself towards the door, and issues forth to create a swarm. Once in the fresh air, they become quiet; their madness subsides, and they fix themselves to a branch of a tree, and having been captured, set to work again as usual. Francis Huber oftenremarked that, in a swarm which had started, if the queen, who directed the flight, were seized and killed, immediately all the bees would return to the hive. It would seem that, having lost their chief, they acknowledged themselves incapable of forming a colony.
A swarm never comes out except on a fine day, or, to speak more accurately, at an hour of the day when the sun is shining, when the air is calm, and the sky clear. It is generally between ten o'clock in the morning and three o'clock in the afternoon. "We observed," says Francis Huber, "in a hive all the signs which are the fore-runners of a cast for a swarm—disorder and agitation—but a cloud passed before the sun, and quiet was restored to the hive; the bees thought no more of swarming. An hour after, the sun having shown itself again, the tumult recommenced, increased very rapidly, and the swarm set out on its journey."[90]
At the moment which precedes their exit, the buzzing increases in the hive. Some of the workers go out first, as if to ascertain the state of the atmosphere. The moment the queen has passed the threshold, the emigrants follow in a cloud behind her; in an instant the air is darkened with bees, which crowd together and form a thick cloud. The swarm rises, whirling round about in the air; it poises itself for a few minutes over the hive, to allow time to reconnoitre, and for the laggards to join, and then goes off at full speed.
The queen does not make choice of the place where the company shall find shelter. When a branch of a tree has been selected by a certain number, they fix themselves on it. Many others follow them. When a great many have collected, the queen joins the throng, and brings in her train the rest of the troop. The group already formed becomes larger and larger every instant. Those which are still scattered about in the air hasten to join the majority, and very soon all together compose one solid mass or clump of bees clinging to each other by their legs. This cluster (Fig. 322) is sometimes spherical, sometimes pyramidal, and occasionally attains a weight of nine pounds, and may contain as many as 40,000 bees. From this moment, although they are uncovered, they remain still. In a quarter of an hour everything becomes quiet, and the bees cease to hover about the cluster more than round an ordinaryhive. Now is the moment to take possession of the swarm in a hive prepared beforehand to receive it. If delayed too long, the troop flies off, and establishes itself in some natural cavity, as the hollow of a tree, &c. The bees then return to their wild state.
Under a warm climate, where flowers abound, the hives may cast several times in succession. The first swarm, however, is always the best. It is more numerous, and has before it more time to provision itself. If the weather remains favourable, it is not rare to see it send out a swarm itself three weeks after leaving the old hive. The old queen then leads the emigration of the second swarm, abandoning the colony she had lately founded. If the original hive sends forth several swarms, the interval between the first and the second is from seven to ten days; the third and the fourth follow at shorter intervals. But these late casts have rarely vitality enough to exist long.