Fig. 322.—Cluster of Bees hanging to a branch.A swarm never returns to a hive it has once left. It is surprisingthen that a hive can furnish a second swarm after the interval of a few days, without being too much weakened. But the old queen, in quitting her domain, leaves behind her a considerable quantity of brood. These larvæ are not long in re-peopling the hive, so as to furnish a second swarm. The third and the fourth casts weaken the population more perceptibly; but there remain still enough workers to continue operations. In some cases the agitation of the cast is so great as to cause all the bees to quit the hive together, leaving it deserted; but this desertion only lasts an instant, one part of the swarm wisely returning to their home.All those which start away become members of the new colony. When the general delirium we have spoken of has taken possession of them, they precipitate themselves together, they pile themselves up all at the same time by the door of the hive, and get so hot as to perspire freely. Those which are in the midst of themêléebear the weight of the whole crowd, and seem bathed in sweat. Their wings become damp, and they are no longer able to fly, and even if they manage to escape, they get no further than the stand, and are not long in re-entering the hive, instead of following the main body of the emigrants. We must not forget that a part of the population is always out at those hours of the day when the swarms take place, engaged in collecting provisions; and having collected the spoil, these workers return to the hive abandoned by the greater part of their companions, and betake themselves to their usual occupations, as if nothing had happened. They form the nucleus of the new population, which is soon enlarged by the hatching of the pupæ. We have already said that the first swarm is always led by the old queen or mother, and that it starts before the hatching of the young females. If she had not gone out before their birth she would have destroyed them, and the new hive would have been unable to re-organise itself for the want of a chief.The first swarm having set out, those bees which remain in the hive pay particular attention to the royal cells. If the young queens make efforts to escape from them, their guardians watch them narrowly, and as the prisoners destroy their covers of wax the guards restore them; but as they do not desire the death of the inmates, they pass in some honey through the opening before they close it, so as to ameliorate their captivity. At the appointed moment, the issue of the first egg laid quits her cradle. Very soon she yields to the murderous instinct which impels her to destroy her rivals, so that she may reign with individual sway over the community. She searches for the cells in which these are shut up, but the moment sheapproaches them the workers pinch her, pull her about, drive her away, and oblige her to move on, and, as the royal cells are numerous, she finds with difficulty any corner in her hive where she may be at rest. Incessantly tormented by the desire of attacking the other females, and incessantly driven back by the guard, she becomes very much excited, passes through the different groups of workers at a run, and communicates to them her agitation. She leads the inmates of the hive the same sort of dance frequently in the course of the day.Sometimes the young queen at the end of her attempts utters a shrill song, analogous to that of the grasshopper. This song, so unusual among these insects, has the effect of petrifying the bees. So says Francis Huber, speaking of a queen which had just been hatched, and which was trying in vain to satisfy her jealous instincts. "She sang," says he, "twice. When we saw her producing this sound, she was motionless, her thorax rested against the honeycomb, her wings being crossed on her back, and she moved them about without un-crossing them, and without opening them. Whatever cause it was that made her choose this attitude, the bees seemed affected by it, all of them now lowered their heads and remained motionless. Next day the hive presented the same appearances, there remained still twenty-three royal cells, which were all assiduously guarded by a great number of bees. The moment the queen approached these, all the guards were in a state of agitation, surrounded her, bit her, hustled her in every way, and generally finished by driving her off; sometimes when this happened she sang, resuming the attitude which I just now described; from that moment the bees became motionless."[91]But the fever which had seized on the young queen ended by communicating itself to her subjects, and, at a particular moment, a new swarm set out under her guidance.When the emigration is effected, the workers which had remained at home set free another female. This one acts in the same way as the first. She tries to get at her rivals still imprisoned, and whom she can smell in their cradles; but the guards repel her with vigour, and defeat all her attempts, till she makes up her mind to emigrate with a new swarm. This curious scene is repeated, with the same circumstances, three or four times in the space of a fortnight, if the weather is favourable, and the hive well peopled. In the end, the number of bees is so much reduced, that they can no longer keep such vigilant guard round the royal cells, and it then happens that two females come out together from their cradles. Immediately the two rivalslook for each other, and fight, and the queen that comes victorious out of this duel to the death reigns peaceably over the people she has won for herself. If, in the tumult which precedes the swarming, a female escapes from her prison, it may happen that she is carried away in the swarm. In this case the deserters divide into two separate bands, but the weakest in numbers are not long in breaking up, the deserters going to swell the principal swarm. At last all the troop is reunited, and it then contains two queens. As long as the swarm remains fixed on its branch, all passes quietly, in spite of the presence of a second queen. But as soon as it has become domiciled, the affair becomes serious; a duel to the death takes place between the two aspirants to the command. Two queens cannot exist in the same hive. One of them isde tropand must be got rid of.Francis Huber was the first to describe these duels between the queens. We quote an interesting account which he has left us of a combat which he watched on the 12th of May, 1790:—"Two young queens," says he, "came out on that day from the cells almost at the same moment, in one of our smallest hives. As soon as they saw each other they dashed one against the other with every appearance of the greatest rage, and put themselves in such a position that each one had its antennæ seized between the teeth of its rival; the head, the thorax, and abdomen of the one were opposite to the head, the thorax, and abdomen of the other; they had only to bend round the posterior extremity of their bodies, and they would reciprocally have stabbed each other with their darts, and both engaged in the combat would have been killed. But it seems as if Nature would not allow this duel to end by the death of both of the combatants. One would say that she had ordained that those queens, finding themselves in this position (that is to say, face to face and abdomen to abdomen), should retreat that very instant with the greatest precipitation. And so, as soon as the two rivals felt that their posterior parts were about to meet, they left go of each other, and each one ran away in an opposite direction.... A few minutes after they had separated from each other their fear ceased, and they recommenced looking for each other. Very soon they perceived the object of their search, and we saw them running one against the other. They seized each other, as at the first, and put themselves in exactly the same position. The result was the same; as soon as their abdomens approached each other they only thought of getting free, and ran away. The working bees were very much agitated during the whole of this time, and their tumult seemed to increase when the twoadversaries separated from each other. We saw them on two different occasions stop the queens in their flight, seize them by the legs, and keep them prisoners for more than a minute. At last, in a third attack, the queen which was the most infuriated or the strongest, rushed upon her rival at a moment when she did not see her coming; seized her with her jaws by the base of her wing, then mounted on to her body, and brought the extremity of her abdomen over the last rings of her enemy, whom she was then able to pierce with her sting very easily. She then let go the wing which she held between her teeth, and drew back her dart. The vanquished queen dragged herself heavily along, lost her strength, and expired soon afterwards."[92]These singular combats take place between young maiden queens. Francis Huber, by introducing into a hive some queens from other hives convinced himself that the same animosity impels the females which are pregnant to fight with and destroy each other. From the moment when the young queen to whom the sovereignty has fallen is pregnant, she is anxious to destroy all the royal pupæ which still exist in the hive, and which are then given up to her without resistance by the workers.Οὑκ ἁγαθὁν πολνκοιρανἱη. ἑις κοιοανος ἑστω,Εἱς βασιλεὑς….[93]Become a mother, the female attacks one after the other the cells which still contain females. She may be seen to throw herself with fury on the first cell she comes to. She makes an opening in it with her mandibles large enough to allow her to introduce her abdomen, and then turns herself about till she has succeeded in giving a stab with her sting to the female which it contains. She then withdraws, highly satisfied with what she has done. The working bees, who up to this moment have remained indifferent spectators of her efforts, take upon themselves the rest of the business. They set to work to enlarge the hole made by the ruling queen, and to draw out the carcase of the victim.In the meanwhile, the fierce and jealous sovereign throws herself on another cell, and breaks into it with violence. If she does not find in it a perfect insect, but only a pupa, she does not condescend to make use of her royal weapon. The workers take on themselves to empty the cell and destroy its contents. These executions over, the queen can for the future occupy herself in laying, without havinganything to fear from rivals. Let us remark, in passing, that man is not much behind these insects whose savage exploits in cruelty we have just related. Among certain tribes of Ethiopians the first care of the newly-crowned chief is to put in prison all his brothers, so as to prevent wars by pretenders to the throne. Delivered from all dread of rivals, our queen sets to work with an indefatigable zeal; and the workers, animated by the hope of a numerous progeny, heap up provisions around them.But now a new tragedy is about to be enacted. The drones, that is to say, the males, are now no longer wanted in the colony: their mission is over. By an inexorable law of Nature they must be got rid of, and the working bees proceed to make general massacre of them. It is in the months of July and August that this frightful carnage takes place. The workers may be seen furiously giving chase to the males, and pursuing them to the extremity of the hive, where these unfortunate insects seek a place of safety. Three or four workers dash off in the pursuit after a male. They seize hold of him, pull him by his legs, by his wings, by his antennæ, and kill him with their stings. This pitiless massacre includes even the larvæ and pupæ of the males. The executioners drag them from their cells, run them through with their stings, greedily suck the liquids contained in their bodies, and then cast their remains to the winds. This slaughter goes on for many days, continuing till the males have been completely got rid of, they not being able to defend themselves, as they have no stings.They are allowed to live, however, when they are fortunate enough to inhabit a hive deprived of its queen. There they even find a place of perfect safety when they have been driven out of another hive, and may be met with in this refuge until the month of January. In like manner the lives of the males are spared in those hives which, instead of a true queen, have only a female half impregnated, which lays only male eggs; but a hive of this kind, whose active population cannot be increased, ends by being abandoned by its inhabitants. The sterility or absence of the queen entails the dissolution of the society. She is, in fact, the life and soul of the hive; and without her there is no hope, no courage, no activity. The populace, abandoned to itself, falls into anarchy. Famine, pillage, ruin, and death are at its doors. Having no progeny to set their hopes on, the bees live from one day to another without a care for the morrow. They leave off working, and live entirely on theft and rapine, and at last they disappear entirely. It is a society become rotten and broken up for the want of a moral tie.If the loss of the mother bee takes place at a period at which there still exist in the hive some larvæ of working bees of less than three days old, the nurse (as we have already said) adopt some of these larvæ, and make them into queens by means of the physical education and special nourishment which they give them. In this case, then, the evil can be repaired; the workers themselves find a remedy without assistance. But if the hive possesses a degenerate queen, which only lays male eggs, the intervention of man is necessary to save it, by the substitution of a properly impregnated queen. If, indeed, a strange queen wished to penetrate alone into a hive already containing a sovereign, she would infallibly be stopped at the door and stifled by the sentinels who guard the entrance to the hive. These would surround her immediately, and keep her captive under them till she perished, either through suffocation or hunger. They do not employ their stings against an intruding queen, except in the case of an attempt being made to deliver her from their clutches: they get rid of her by stifling.When it is wished to introduce into a hive a stranger queen, after having removed the original sovereign, many precautions must be used before putting her into the common home. It is only after some time that the bees become aware of the disappearance of their queen; but they then manifest great emotion. They run hither and thither, as though mad, leaving off their work, and making a peculiar buzzing sound. If you return to them their original sovereign, they recognise her, and calm is immediately restored; but the substitution of a new queen for the original sovereign does not produce the same effect in every case. If you introduce the new queen half a day only after the removal of the old queen, she is very badly received, and is at once surrounded, the workers trying to suffocate her. Generally she sinks under this bad treatment. But if you allow a longer interval to elapse before you introduce the substitute, the bees, rendered more tractable by the delay, are better disposed towards her. If you allow an interregnum of twenty-four hours, the stranger queen is always received with the honours due to her rank, a general buzzing announcing the event to the whole population of the hive. They assign to their adopted queen a train of picked attendants; they draw up in line on her passing by; they caress her with the tips of their antennæ; they offer her honey. A little joyful fluttering of the escort announces that every one in the little republic is satisfied. The labours out of doors and indoors then begin anew with more activity than ever.It is principally during stormy days, when the heat and theelectricity in the air are favourable to the secretion of pollen in plants, that the bees go into the fields to make their harvest. They heap up provisions in the hive against the cold season, not forgetting, however, to watch over the eggs, their future hope, "spem gentis," as Virgil calls them.These peaceful occupations are sometimes interrupted by the dire necessities of war. It happens that the bees of an impoverished hive, impelled by hunger, that bad counsellor, make up their mind to attack and to pillage the treasures of a neighbouring hive which is abundantly stocked with provisions. A savage fight then takes place between the two battalions. Each one precipitates itself with fury upon its adversary. Two bees press against and bite each other till one is overcome. The victor springs upon the back of the vanquished, squeezes it round the neck with its mandibles, and pierces it between the rings of its abdomen with its sting. The victorious bee places itself by the side of its fallen enemy, and resting on four of its legs, rubs its two hind ones together proudly, as a sign of supreme triumph. Réaumur relates a strange fact, which he says he often observed, and which proves that the insects we are treating of do not fight to satisfy a sanguinary and savage instinct, but (which is less reprehensible) to satisfy their hunger. Bees attacked by a superior force are in no danger of losing their lives if their enemies can induce them to give up their throats—that expression conveys the idea. Supposing three or four are furiously attacking one bee: they are pulling it by its legs and biting it on its thorax. The unfortunate object of this attack has then nothing better to do, to escape alive from such a perilous situation, than to stretch out its trunk laden with sweet-scented honey. The plunderers will come one after the other and drink the honey; then, cloyed, satisfied, having nothing more to demand, they go their way, leaving the bee to return to his dwelling-place.There are also strange fights—regular duels—between the bees of the same hive. Very hot weather has the effect of irritating them, and making them boil over with rage. They are then dangerous to man, whom they attack boldly. But more often it is amongst themselves that they quarrel. One often sees two bees which meet seize each other by the neck in the air. It happens also that a bee, in a state of fury, throws itself on another who is walking quietly and unsuspiciously along the edge of its hive. When two bees are struggling in this manner they descend to the ground, for in the air they would not be able to get purchase enough to be sure of striking each other. They then engage in a hand-to-hand fight, as thegladiators used formerly to do in the circus. They are continually making stabs with their stings, but almost always the point slips over the scales with which they are covered. The combat is sometimes prolonged during an hour, before one of them has found the weak point in the other's natural cuirass, and has buried its terrible weapon in the flesh. The victor often leaves its sting in the wound which it has made, and then dies, in its moment of triumph, through the loss of this organ. Sometimes the two combatants, in spite of long and savage assaults, cannot succeed in injuring either's solid armour. In such a case they leave each other, tired of war, and fly away, despairing of obtaining a victory.At the end of autumn, when the bees no longer find any flowers in the fields to plunder, they finish rearing their eggs on the pollen, which they keep in store, and the queen ceases to lay. Numbed by the cold of the winter, the workers cease to go out. Crowded together they mutually warm each other, and thus hold out, when the cold is not too intense, against the rigour of the frosts. Huddled up between the cakes of the honeycomb, they wait for the return of fine weather, to recommence their labours at home and abroad. After two or three years of this laborious existence the bee dies, but to live again in a numerous posterity, as Virgil says:—"At genus immortale manet, multosque per annosStat fortuna domus, et avi numerantur avorum!"There has been a good deal of discussion on the question whether bees constitute monarchies or republics. According to our opinion, theirs is a true republic. As all the population is the issue of a common mother, and as each bee of the female sex can become a queen—that is to say, a mother-bee, if it receives an appropriate nourishment—it is manifest that the title of queen has been wrongly given to the mother-bee. After all, she is nothing more than president of a republic. The vice-presidents, as we have already pointed out, are all those females which at any given moment may be called by choice—that is, by popular election—to fulfil the functions of the sovereign, when death or accident has put an end to her existence. "There is no such thing as a king in Nature," said Daubenton one day, in one of his lectures at the Jardin des Plantes. The audience immediately applauded, and cried "Bravo!" The honestsavantstopped, quite disconcerted, and asked his assistant naturalist the cause of this applause, perhaps ironical. "I must have said something stupid," repeated poor Daubenton between his teeth, remembering the saying of Phocion under similar circumstances. "No,"replied his assistant naturalist, "you have said nothing but what is quite true; but, without meaning it, you have made a political allusion. You spoke against kings, and our young republicans thought that you were alluding to Louis XVI." "Indeed," said the coadjutor of Buffon, "I had no idea that I was talking politics!" The bee republic, this little animal society, is admirably constituted, and all its citizens obey its laws with docility.Bees have often served as an example, proving, according to some, the marvellous intelligence of certain little animals; according to others, an insect wonderfully developed. For ourselves, we have never well understood what people mean by the wordinstinct; and we frankly grant to the bee intelligence, as we do also to many animals. The greater number of the acts of their life seem to be the result of an idea, a mental deliberation, a determination come to after examination and reflection. The construction of their cells, always uniform, is, they say, the result of instinct. However, it happens that under particular circumstances, these little architects know how to abandon the beaten track of routine, reserving to themselves the power of returning, when it is useful to do so, to the traditional principles which ensure the beauty and regularity of their constructions. Bees have been seen, indeed, to deviate from their ordinary habits in order to correct certain irregularities—the result of accident or produced by the intervention of man—which had deranged their works.Francis Huber relates that he saw bees propping up with pillars and flying buttresses of wax a piece of the honeycomb which had fallen down. At the same time, put on their guard by this sad accident, they set to work to fortify the principal framework of the other combs, and to fasten them more securely to the roof of the hive. This took place in the month of January, and therefore not during the working season, and when to provide against a distant eventuality was the only question. M. Waland has reported an analogous observation. Is there not here, in the first place, a true and excellent reasoning, then an act, an operation, a work, executed as the result of this reasoning? Now, an operation which is performed as the result of reasoning, is attributable to intelligence. Again, the bees give different sorts of food to the different sorts of larvæ. They know how to change this food when an accident has deprived the hive of its queen, and it is necessary to replace her; this is another proof of intelligence.But it is, above all, in the face of an enemy that the intellectual faculties of these insects show themselves. There are always at the entrance of every hive three or four bees, which have nothing else todo but to guard the door, to keep a watch over incomers and outgoers, and to prevent an enemy or an intruder from slipping into the community. When one of them perceives an enemy on the borders of the hive, it dashes forwards towards it, and by a menacing and significant buzzing warns it to retire. If it does not understand the warning, which is a rare occurrence—for men, horses, dogs, and animals of all kinds know perfectly well the danger to which they expose themselves by approaching too near a hive in full operation[94]—the bee gets a reinforcement, and very soon returns to the combat with a determined battalion. All this is, it seems to us, intelligence.Fig. 323.—Sentinel Bees guarding the entrance to the hive.Fig. 323.—Sentinel Bees guarding the entrance to the hive.We have just said that there are sentinels at the entrance of every hive. They touch with their antennæ each individual that wishes to penetrate into the house. Hornets, the Death's-head Sphinx, slugs, &c., often try to introduce themselves into the hive. In that case, on the appeal of the watchful porters, all the bees combine their efforts to defend the entrance to their habitation. It would be impossible for them, in fact, to stop the ravages of their enemies when once entered into the interior. When a sphinx has succeeded in introducing itself into a hive, it sits down and drinks the honey in great bumpers, devouring all the provisions: and the unfortunate proprietors of the house are obliged to emigrate. To stop the entrance of moths which fly by night, the bees contract, and sometimes barricade, their door with a mixture of wax and propolis. When a slug or any other large animal has managed to introduce itself into the interior, they kill it and wrap it up in a shroud of propolis, as we have already related.However, they are quite helpless against certain microscopic parasites which sometimes attack them. The bee-louse, which has been described and drawn by Réaumur in one of his Memoirs,[95]and the parasite which was described in 1866 by M. Duchemin, theSugar Acarus, which is found in the liquid honey of those hives which are attacked by the disease called the rot (pourriture), are the most serious enemies of the bee. TheGalleriasare also terrible enemies to them. Every hive thus attacked is ruined. These destructive insects attack also the wild bees, drive them from their nests, and destroy the wax of the cakes forming the comb. TheGalleriaimpudently makes his home in the houses of bees, wild as well as domesticated.The habits of bees in their wild state, which make their nests in the trunks of trees and other cavities, do not differ from those of domesticated bees. Only the latter become tame with man, getting used to those who look after them, and becoming less aggressive towards strangers.Apiculture, or bee-keeping, is still at the present day an important business, although honey has lost a great deal of its utility since the introduction of sugar into Europe. Without entering into manydetails on apiculture, that is to say, on the attention it is necessary to pay to bees, we will mention the principal duties of the bee-keeper.When, in the spring, the beesfont la barbe(as the French say), that is, when they are getting ready to swarm, one must watch narrowly, so as not to lose them. As soon as a swarm has settled on a tree or on any artificial resting-place prepared on purpose in the neighbourhood, it is approached, after having covered one's face with a piece of transparent linen or canvas, or with a hood, and the cluster is caused to fall into a hive turned upside down. The hive is then turned up and again put in its place; or else, if it is only to serve for the conveyance of the swarm to another place, shaken about before the door of the hive which the swarm is destined to occupy. The bees then beat to arms, and set to work to enter their new habitation in a compact column.Fig. 324represents the manner in which one ought to proceed in order to gather a swarm of bees, which is fixed on a branch of a tree, and introduce it into the hive prepared for it. Let us listen on this subject to an experienced bee-keeper, M. Hamet: "As soon as a swarm has fixed itself anywhere, and there are only a few bees fluttering round the cluster, you must make your preparations for lodging them in a hive you have got ready for the purpose. Some people rub the hive on the inside with aromatic plants or honey, with the object of making the bees fix themselves there more surely. This precaution is not indispensable. What is essential is, that the hive should be clean, and free from any bad smell. It is a good thing to pass it beforehand over the flame of a straw fire, which destroys the eggs of insects and insects themselves which may have lodged in it.Fig. 324.—Taking a swarm."After having covered your head with a veil, if the swarm has settled in a difficult place, and you are afraid of being stung, you hold the hive under the cluster of bees and make them fall into it, either by shaking the branch to which the swarm is attached, very hard, or by means of a small broom, or even with the hand, for then they very rarely sting: it is hardly ever necessary to take any precautions in approaching them, except for swarms which have been fixed for many hours, or since the day before. When the bees have fallen in a mass to the bottom of the hive, you turn this gently over, and place it on a piece of linen stretched out on the ground near the place where the swarm was, or on a tray, or simply on the ground itself, if it is dry and clean. You will have taken care to place on this linen a little wedge, a stick or a stone, to raise the hive a little, and to leave room through which the bees may enter. A great part of the bees which fall into the hive fix themselves on to its sides; but a good numberare dropped on the linen when the hive is turned. This is the manner in which you act when it is determined to lodge the swarm; but when the swarm is to be lodged in another hive, as we shall see farther on, immediately that the bees recognise the lodging which is destined for them, they set to work to beat to arms, and to enter in a compact column their new dwelling; those which are fluttering about in the air are summoned by this call, and are not long in alighting on the spot where the rest of their companions are fixed. At the end of a quarter or half an hour, at the most, all, or nearly all, have enteredthe hive. A few still hover about round the place where the swarm was fixed. If the number is considerable, and if many have stopped in this place, you must make them quit it by placing some offensive herb, such as celandine, horehound, field camomile, &c., on it, or project the smoke of a rag upon them, which will drive away the bees and force them to look for the colony or to return to the mother-hive. You may also project smoke, but in moderate quantities, on the bees grouped around and on the borders of the lodging which you have just given them, and which they will not be long in entering."[96]Fig. 325.—Bell-shaped hive.Fig. 325.—Bell-shaped hive.Fig. 326.—English hive.A good swarm weighs from four to six pounds; one pound contains about four thousand bees. The second swarm weighs rarely more than two pounds, and the third still less. You can also form artificial swarms by drawing off the bees of one hive into another, an operation which is easy with bell-shaped hives. A glance atFig. 325, which represents the common hive of the north of France, that is to say, thebell-shaped, will show how easy it is to effect that drawing off,or pouring out of the bees, by joining together at their bases two hives, the one empty, the other containing a swarm. In order to have control over the bees during the operation, you must slightly stupefy them with the smoke of a smouldering rag.Beehives are of a thousand different shapes, each of which has its particular advantage. They are made of wood and of straw; and the shapes used in different countries are very various. We give as examples, Figs.325,326,327,328,329.Fig. 327.—Swiss hive.The site, that is, the place where hives stand, is not a matter of indifference. It is generally supposed that bees ought to be established in a place fully exposed to the sun, and to the greatest heat of the day. This is a mistake. M. de Frarière, in his work on bees and bee-keeping, recommends the hives to be placed under trees, in such a way that they may be kept in the shade.Fig. 330shows the way in which M. de Frarière recommends hives to be arranged.Dr. Monin, author of an interesting monograph of the bee, published in 1866, after treating of the different arrangements whichhave been recommended for hives, concludes thus:—"It is to satisfy all these requirements that experienced bee-keepers so much recommend for the hives an exposure to the ten o'clock sun; that is to say, that they should be turned in such a manner that the sun may shine on their entrances when it has already attained a certain height above the horizon, and sufficiently warmed the surrounding air for the bees, which the brightness of its rays has tempted forth, not to be seized with cold and numbed before they have been able to return home again."[97]Fig. 328.—Polish hive.In the month of March a gathering of wax is made by cutting away the lower part of the hives, where the cakes have grown old. The principal honey harvest takes place towards the end of May, June, or July, according to the place the hives are in. A larger or smaller gathering takes place according to the quantity of honey ready, and the state of the season. As the bees will not see the violation of their domicile and theft of their winter provisions without anger, to get possession of the honeycomb with which the hive is filled, you must put these irritable insects into such a state that they are unable to injure you. They can be rendered peaceable bysmoking them. The smoke is forced into the hive with the assistance of a pair of bellows, the arrangement of which is shown inFig. 331. If the fumigation is prolonged, the bees are very soon heard to beat their wings in a peculiar manner; they are then in what is called in Frenchl'état de bruissement, or the roaring state. When they stand up on their hind legs and agitate their wings, you can do with them almost anything you like—cut away the honeycomb, abstract the eggs, or take out the honey—without their troubling themselves about it. But this state of things must not last too long, or you may suffocate your bees. It is a sort of anæsthesis into which the bees have been thrown; and, as with men, this must not be prolonged.Fig. 329.—Garden hive.Some bee-keepers, in order to collect the honey harvest, suffocate their bees by burning sulphur matches. This is a bad practice. "Those authors who recommend us to suffocate the bees," says M. Hamet, "under the pretext that their colonies will become toonumerous, and who add, 'You cannot eat beef without killing the ox,' are more stupid than the animal they have chosen for their comparison." A hive often produces from twelve to twenty pounds of honey each year, and a proportional quantity of wax. It may, then, furnish to the bee-keeper an important revenue, especially as the rearing of bees gives scarcely any trouble, and involves scarcely any labour, as it is only necessary to select a spot with a proper exposure and well supplied with flowers.Fig. 330.—Hives under the shade of trees.Fig. 331.—Bellows used to stupefy Bees.We possess in Europe two species or races of bees—the CommonBee (Apis mellifica), and the Ligurian Bee (Apis ligustica), whose abdomen is tawny, with the rings bordered with black. It is this latter species of which Virgil sang, and which is found in Italy and Greece. It has been remarked that the Ligurian bee pierces the calices, at their bases, of those flowers which are too long for it to penetrate into easily, and thus gets possession of the honey, whilst the common bees pass these flowers over. This observation proves that the former is the more intelligent of the two races. In Egypt a bee is reared called the Banded Bee (Apis fasciata).Ten or twelve other species of honey-bees exist in Senegal, the Cape of Good Hope, Madagascar, East Indies at Timor (Apis Peronii), &c. The European bee has been acclimatised in America, but it soon returns to its wild state, as indeed do all our domestic animals when transported to the other hemisphere. At the Cape of Good Hope the Hottentots seek greedily after the nests of wild bees, a bird called the Indicator guiding them in this chase. This bird is observed flitting about from tree to tree, making a little significant cry. They have only then to follow this bird-informer, for it will not be long in stopping before some hollow tree which contains a nest of bees. The Hottentots always acknowledge its services by leaving it a part of the booty.Fenimore Cooper, the novelist, tells us, in his work entitled "The Prairie," how the bee-hunters in America discover the wild hives. They place on a plank, covered with white paint still moist, a piece of bread covered with sugar or honey. The bees, in plundering this bread, get some of the paint on their bodies, and are then more easily tracked when they return to their hives. In North America they are, as it were, the harbingers of civilisation. When the Indians perceive a swarm trying to establish themselves in the solitudes of their forests, they say to one another, "The white man is approaching; he will soon be here." True pioneers of civilisation, these insects seem to announce to the forests and deserts of the New World that the reign of Nature has passed away, and that now the social state has begun to play its part—a part that will never end.Fig. 332.A species of Melipona.The bees peculiar to South America have no sting: these are theMeliponas. These (Fig. 332) are more compactly formed than our bees, have a more hairy body, and are smaller in size. Very numerous in the virgin forests, they make their nests in the hollows of trees. The wax produced by them is brown, and of an indifferent quality. Under thick leaves of wax are found cakes, with hexagonal cells, containing the males, females, and neuters. The cells of the larvæ are closed by the workers, and the larvæ spin themselves acocoon inside. All around the cradles are large round cells, entirely different in form from the cradles, in which the honey is stored. It is probable that the males, the workers, and the females, live together in great harmony, and even that there is in each nest more than one female, for the absence of the sting must prevent any combats. If a few cakes of theMelipona'shoneycomb are moved into the hollow of a tree, they always found there a new colony. We may conclude from this that the workers procure for themselves females whenever they want them by means of a special sort of food. The savage inhabitants of the American forests collect this honey; but, with the carelessness of uncivilised man, they at the same time destroy the nests of these precious insects. They have now begun to domesticate certain species ofMeliponas, by introducing them into earthen pots or wooden cases. These insects have been brought to Europe, but they have always perished in the first cold weather. During the summer of 1863 there was, in the Museum of Natural History of Paris, a nest ofMelipona scutellarisfrom Brazil, but it did not prosper.The Humble or Bumble Bees.If in the month of March one passes through the fields, which are beginning to get green, or through the woods, still deprived of their leaves, there may be seen, hovering hither and thither, great hairy insects, resembling gigantic bees. These are the females of a species of bee, called by the French "bourdons," from the buzzing noise they produce; and by us "humble bees," probably from their German name "hummel," given for the same reason. These females have been awakened by the spring sun. They examine the cavities of stones, the heaps of moss, and the holes in banks, &c., seeking for a suitable spot to construct a nest for their progeny.The humble bees are of the same family as the bees, whom they resemble in their organisation. Like them, they are divided into males, females, and neuters, or workers. But their companies only last a year. At the end of autumn the whole population has become extinct, with the exception of the pregnant females, which pass the winter in a state of torpor at the bottom of some hole, where they wait till the spring to perpetuate their race. Their societies comprise generally only a small number of individuals, from fifty to three hundred. They are of peaceful habits, their ephemeral existence beginning and ending with the flower season.Fig. 333.—Male Humble Bee.The humble bees are known by their great size, their short, robust body, encircled by bands of very bright colours, and by the noise they make in flying. Their hind legs are armed with two spurs. The females and the workers have the same organisation for plundering flowers as the bees have: they have similar trunks, and their legs are fitted with brushes and baskets for gathering pollen. The males, like the males of hive bees, have no sting. The greater number have their dwelling-places underground; others make their nests on the surface of the soil, in the cracks of walls, in heaps of stones, &c. The former establish themselves in cavities situated as far as half a yard underground, and approached by a long narrow gallery. It is almost always a solitary female who has been the architect of the nest. She cleans out the cavity she has chosen, makes it as smooth as possible, and lines it with leaves and moss, to embellish the subterranean house in which she is to pass nearly all her existence.The Moss Humble Bee (Bombus muscorum), called also theCarding Bee, chooses an excavation of very little depth in which to make its nest, or else itself undertakes the hollowing out of a hole in the ground. It covers this with a dome of moss or dry herbs. But it does not fly when transporting the moss, it drags it along the ground, with its back turned towards the nest. Having seized a packet of the moss, it sets to work to draw out the bits with its mandibles, and then pushing them under its body, throws them in the direction of the nest by a sort of kick from its hind legs. Sometimes, towards the end of the season, many humble bees are to be seen working in line. The first seizes the moss, and after having carded it, passes it under its body, and throws it to the second, which throws it on to the third, and so on, up to the nest. When the materials are ready, the insect makes use of them to manufacture a sort of hemispherical lid, or covering, resembling felt, which shuts the nest in, and is lined with wax. If you lift up this covering, or small dome, which it is not dangerous to do, for humble bees are not very aggressive, you find beneath it a nest composed of a coarse comb.The cells which compose the nest, and which are to receive the larvæ of the insect, are of an oval shape, and of a pale yellow or even of a blackish colour.Fig. 334represents these cells. The wax of which they are composed has none of the qualities of that of hive bees, but is soft, sticky, and brownish.
Fig. 322.—Cluster of Bees hanging to a branch.
A swarm never returns to a hive it has once left. It is surprisingthen that a hive can furnish a second swarm after the interval of a few days, without being too much weakened. But the old queen, in quitting her domain, leaves behind her a considerable quantity of brood. These larvæ are not long in re-peopling the hive, so as to furnish a second swarm. The third and the fourth casts weaken the population more perceptibly; but there remain still enough workers to continue operations. In some cases the agitation of the cast is so great as to cause all the bees to quit the hive together, leaving it deserted; but this desertion only lasts an instant, one part of the swarm wisely returning to their home.
All those which start away become members of the new colony. When the general delirium we have spoken of has taken possession of them, they precipitate themselves together, they pile themselves up all at the same time by the door of the hive, and get so hot as to perspire freely. Those which are in the midst of themêléebear the weight of the whole crowd, and seem bathed in sweat. Their wings become damp, and they are no longer able to fly, and even if they manage to escape, they get no further than the stand, and are not long in re-entering the hive, instead of following the main body of the emigrants. We must not forget that a part of the population is always out at those hours of the day when the swarms take place, engaged in collecting provisions; and having collected the spoil, these workers return to the hive abandoned by the greater part of their companions, and betake themselves to their usual occupations, as if nothing had happened. They form the nucleus of the new population, which is soon enlarged by the hatching of the pupæ. We have already said that the first swarm is always led by the old queen or mother, and that it starts before the hatching of the young females. If she had not gone out before their birth she would have destroyed them, and the new hive would have been unable to re-organise itself for the want of a chief.
The first swarm having set out, those bees which remain in the hive pay particular attention to the royal cells. If the young queens make efforts to escape from them, their guardians watch them narrowly, and as the prisoners destroy their covers of wax the guards restore them; but as they do not desire the death of the inmates, they pass in some honey through the opening before they close it, so as to ameliorate their captivity. At the appointed moment, the issue of the first egg laid quits her cradle. Very soon she yields to the murderous instinct which impels her to destroy her rivals, so that she may reign with individual sway over the community. She searches for the cells in which these are shut up, but the moment sheapproaches them the workers pinch her, pull her about, drive her away, and oblige her to move on, and, as the royal cells are numerous, she finds with difficulty any corner in her hive where she may be at rest. Incessantly tormented by the desire of attacking the other females, and incessantly driven back by the guard, she becomes very much excited, passes through the different groups of workers at a run, and communicates to them her agitation. She leads the inmates of the hive the same sort of dance frequently in the course of the day.
Sometimes the young queen at the end of her attempts utters a shrill song, analogous to that of the grasshopper. This song, so unusual among these insects, has the effect of petrifying the bees. So says Francis Huber, speaking of a queen which had just been hatched, and which was trying in vain to satisfy her jealous instincts. "She sang," says he, "twice. When we saw her producing this sound, she was motionless, her thorax rested against the honeycomb, her wings being crossed on her back, and she moved them about without un-crossing them, and without opening them. Whatever cause it was that made her choose this attitude, the bees seemed affected by it, all of them now lowered their heads and remained motionless. Next day the hive presented the same appearances, there remained still twenty-three royal cells, which were all assiduously guarded by a great number of bees. The moment the queen approached these, all the guards were in a state of agitation, surrounded her, bit her, hustled her in every way, and generally finished by driving her off; sometimes when this happened she sang, resuming the attitude which I just now described; from that moment the bees became motionless."[91]But the fever which had seized on the young queen ended by communicating itself to her subjects, and, at a particular moment, a new swarm set out under her guidance.
When the emigration is effected, the workers which had remained at home set free another female. This one acts in the same way as the first. She tries to get at her rivals still imprisoned, and whom she can smell in their cradles; but the guards repel her with vigour, and defeat all her attempts, till she makes up her mind to emigrate with a new swarm. This curious scene is repeated, with the same circumstances, three or four times in the space of a fortnight, if the weather is favourable, and the hive well peopled. In the end, the number of bees is so much reduced, that they can no longer keep such vigilant guard round the royal cells, and it then happens that two females come out together from their cradles. Immediately the two rivalslook for each other, and fight, and the queen that comes victorious out of this duel to the death reigns peaceably over the people she has won for herself. If, in the tumult which precedes the swarming, a female escapes from her prison, it may happen that she is carried away in the swarm. In this case the deserters divide into two separate bands, but the weakest in numbers are not long in breaking up, the deserters going to swell the principal swarm. At last all the troop is reunited, and it then contains two queens. As long as the swarm remains fixed on its branch, all passes quietly, in spite of the presence of a second queen. But as soon as it has become domiciled, the affair becomes serious; a duel to the death takes place between the two aspirants to the command. Two queens cannot exist in the same hive. One of them isde tropand must be got rid of.
Francis Huber was the first to describe these duels between the queens. We quote an interesting account which he has left us of a combat which he watched on the 12th of May, 1790:—"Two young queens," says he, "came out on that day from the cells almost at the same moment, in one of our smallest hives. As soon as they saw each other they dashed one against the other with every appearance of the greatest rage, and put themselves in such a position that each one had its antennæ seized between the teeth of its rival; the head, the thorax, and abdomen of the one were opposite to the head, the thorax, and abdomen of the other; they had only to bend round the posterior extremity of their bodies, and they would reciprocally have stabbed each other with their darts, and both engaged in the combat would have been killed. But it seems as if Nature would not allow this duel to end by the death of both of the combatants. One would say that she had ordained that those queens, finding themselves in this position (that is to say, face to face and abdomen to abdomen), should retreat that very instant with the greatest precipitation. And so, as soon as the two rivals felt that their posterior parts were about to meet, they left go of each other, and each one ran away in an opposite direction.... A few minutes after they had separated from each other their fear ceased, and they recommenced looking for each other. Very soon they perceived the object of their search, and we saw them running one against the other. They seized each other, as at the first, and put themselves in exactly the same position. The result was the same; as soon as their abdomens approached each other they only thought of getting free, and ran away. The working bees were very much agitated during the whole of this time, and their tumult seemed to increase when the twoadversaries separated from each other. We saw them on two different occasions stop the queens in their flight, seize them by the legs, and keep them prisoners for more than a minute. At last, in a third attack, the queen which was the most infuriated or the strongest, rushed upon her rival at a moment when she did not see her coming; seized her with her jaws by the base of her wing, then mounted on to her body, and brought the extremity of her abdomen over the last rings of her enemy, whom she was then able to pierce with her sting very easily. She then let go the wing which she held between her teeth, and drew back her dart. The vanquished queen dragged herself heavily along, lost her strength, and expired soon afterwards."[92]
These singular combats take place between young maiden queens. Francis Huber, by introducing into a hive some queens from other hives convinced himself that the same animosity impels the females which are pregnant to fight with and destroy each other. From the moment when the young queen to whom the sovereignty has fallen is pregnant, she is anxious to destroy all the royal pupæ which still exist in the hive, and which are then given up to her without resistance by the workers.
Οὑκ ἁγαθὁν πολνκοιρανἱη. ἑις κοιοανος ἑστω,Εἱς βασιλεὑς….[93]
Become a mother, the female attacks one after the other the cells which still contain females. She may be seen to throw herself with fury on the first cell she comes to. She makes an opening in it with her mandibles large enough to allow her to introduce her abdomen, and then turns herself about till she has succeeded in giving a stab with her sting to the female which it contains. She then withdraws, highly satisfied with what she has done. The working bees, who up to this moment have remained indifferent spectators of her efforts, take upon themselves the rest of the business. They set to work to enlarge the hole made by the ruling queen, and to draw out the carcase of the victim.
In the meanwhile, the fierce and jealous sovereign throws herself on another cell, and breaks into it with violence. If she does not find in it a perfect insect, but only a pupa, she does not condescend to make use of her royal weapon. The workers take on themselves to empty the cell and destroy its contents. These executions over, the queen can for the future occupy herself in laying, without havinganything to fear from rivals. Let us remark, in passing, that man is not much behind these insects whose savage exploits in cruelty we have just related. Among certain tribes of Ethiopians the first care of the newly-crowned chief is to put in prison all his brothers, so as to prevent wars by pretenders to the throne. Delivered from all dread of rivals, our queen sets to work with an indefatigable zeal; and the workers, animated by the hope of a numerous progeny, heap up provisions around them.
But now a new tragedy is about to be enacted. The drones, that is to say, the males, are now no longer wanted in the colony: their mission is over. By an inexorable law of Nature they must be got rid of, and the working bees proceed to make general massacre of them. It is in the months of July and August that this frightful carnage takes place. The workers may be seen furiously giving chase to the males, and pursuing them to the extremity of the hive, where these unfortunate insects seek a place of safety. Three or four workers dash off in the pursuit after a male. They seize hold of him, pull him by his legs, by his wings, by his antennæ, and kill him with their stings. This pitiless massacre includes even the larvæ and pupæ of the males. The executioners drag them from their cells, run them through with their stings, greedily suck the liquids contained in their bodies, and then cast their remains to the winds. This slaughter goes on for many days, continuing till the males have been completely got rid of, they not being able to defend themselves, as they have no stings.
They are allowed to live, however, when they are fortunate enough to inhabit a hive deprived of its queen. There they even find a place of perfect safety when they have been driven out of another hive, and may be met with in this refuge until the month of January. In like manner the lives of the males are spared in those hives which, instead of a true queen, have only a female half impregnated, which lays only male eggs; but a hive of this kind, whose active population cannot be increased, ends by being abandoned by its inhabitants. The sterility or absence of the queen entails the dissolution of the society. She is, in fact, the life and soul of the hive; and without her there is no hope, no courage, no activity. The populace, abandoned to itself, falls into anarchy. Famine, pillage, ruin, and death are at its doors. Having no progeny to set their hopes on, the bees live from one day to another without a care for the morrow. They leave off working, and live entirely on theft and rapine, and at last they disappear entirely. It is a society become rotten and broken up for the want of a moral tie.
If the loss of the mother bee takes place at a period at which there still exist in the hive some larvæ of working bees of less than three days old, the nurse (as we have already said) adopt some of these larvæ, and make them into queens by means of the physical education and special nourishment which they give them. In this case, then, the evil can be repaired; the workers themselves find a remedy without assistance. But if the hive possesses a degenerate queen, which only lays male eggs, the intervention of man is necessary to save it, by the substitution of a properly impregnated queen. If, indeed, a strange queen wished to penetrate alone into a hive already containing a sovereign, she would infallibly be stopped at the door and stifled by the sentinels who guard the entrance to the hive. These would surround her immediately, and keep her captive under them till she perished, either through suffocation or hunger. They do not employ their stings against an intruding queen, except in the case of an attempt being made to deliver her from their clutches: they get rid of her by stifling.
When it is wished to introduce into a hive a stranger queen, after having removed the original sovereign, many precautions must be used before putting her into the common home. It is only after some time that the bees become aware of the disappearance of their queen; but they then manifest great emotion. They run hither and thither, as though mad, leaving off their work, and making a peculiar buzzing sound. If you return to them their original sovereign, they recognise her, and calm is immediately restored; but the substitution of a new queen for the original sovereign does not produce the same effect in every case. If you introduce the new queen half a day only after the removal of the old queen, she is very badly received, and is at once surrounded, the workers trying to suffocate her. Generally she sinks under this bad treatment. But if you allow a longer interval to elapse before you introduce the substitute, the bees, rendered more tractable by the delay, are better disposed towards her. If you allow an interregnum of twenty-four hours, the stranger queen is always received with the honours due to her rank, a general buzzing announcing the event to the whole population of the hive. They assign to their adopted queen a train of picked attendants; they draw up in line on her passing by; they caress her with the tips of their antennæ; they offer her honey. A little joyful fluttering of the escort announces that every one in the little republic is satisfied. The labours out of doors and indoors then begin anew with more activity than ever.
It is principally during stormy days, when the heat and theelectricity in the air are favourable to the secretion of pollen in plants, that the bees go into the fields to make their harvest. They heap up provisions in the hive against the cold season, not forgetting, however, to watch over the eggs, their future hope, "spem gentis," as Virgil calls them.
These peaceful occupations are sometimes interrupted by the dire necessities of war. It happens that the bees of an impoverished hive, impelled by hunger, that bad counsellor, make up their mind to attack and to pillage the treasures of a neighbouring hive which is abundantly stocked with provisions. A savage fight then takes place between the two battalions. Each one precipitates itself with fury upon its adversary. Two bees press against and bite each other till one is overcome. The victor springs upon the back of the vanquished, squeezes it round the neck with its mandibles, and pierces it between the rings of its abdomen with its sting. The victorious bee places itself by the side of its fallen enemy, and resting on four of its legs, rubs its two hind ones together proudly, as a sign of supreme triumph. Réaumur relates a strange fact, which he says he often observed, and which proves that the insects we are treating of do not fight to satisfy a sanguinary and savage instinct, but (which is less reprehensible) to satisfy their hunger. Bees attacked by a superior force are in no danger of losing their lives if their enemies can induce them to give up their throats—that expression conveys the idea. Supposing three or four are furiously attacking one bee: they are pulling it by its legs and biting it on its thorax. The unfortunate object of this attack has then nothing better to do, to escape alive from such a perilous situation, than to stretch out its trunk laden with sweet-scented honey. The plunderers will come one after the other and drink the honey; then, cloyed, satisfied, having nothing more to demand, they go their way, leaving the bee to return to his dwelling-place.
There are also strange fights—regular duels—between the bees of the same hive. Very hot weather has the effect of irritating them, and making them boil over with rage. They are then dangerous to man, whom they attack boldly. But more often it is amongst themselves that they quarrel. One often sees two bees which meet seize each other by the neck in the air. It happens also that a bee, in a state of fury, throws itself on another who is walking quietly and unsuspiciously along the edge of its hive. When two bees are struggling in this manner they descend to the ground, for in the air they would not be able to get purchase enough to be sure of striking each other. They then engage in a hand-to-hand fight, as thegladiators used formerly to do in the circus. They are continually making stabs with their stings, but almost always the point slips over the scales with which they are covered. The combat is sometimes prolonged during an hour, before one of them has found the weak point in the other's natural cuirass, and has buried its terrible weapon in the flesh. The victor often leaves its sting in the wound which it has made, and then dies, in its moment of triumph, through the loss of this organ. Sometimes the two combatants, in spite of long and savage assaults, cannot succeed in injuring either's solid armour. In such a case they leave each other, tired of war, and fly away, despairing of obtaining a victory.
At the end of autumn, when the bees no longer find any flowers in the fields to plunder, they finish rearing their eggs on the pollen, which they keep in store, and the queen ceases to lay. Numbed by the cold of the winter, the workers cease to go out. Crowded together they mutually warm each other, and thus hold out, when the cold is not too intense, against the rigour of the frosts. Huddled up between the cakes of the honeycomb, they wait for the return of fine weather, to recommence their labours at home and abroad. After two or three years of this laborious existence the bee dies, but to live again in a numerous posterity, as Virgil says:—
"At genus immortale manet, multosque per annosStat fortuna domus, et avi numerantur avorum!"
There has been a good deal of discussion on the question whether bees constitute monarchies or republics. According to our opinion, theirs is a true republic. As all the population is the issue of a common mother, and as each bee of the female sex can become a queen—that is to say, a mother-bee, if it receives an appropriate nourishment—it is manifest that the title of queen has been wrongly given to the mother-bee. After all, she is nothing more than president of a republic. The vice-presidents, as we have already pointed out, are all those females which at any given moment may be called by choice—that is, by popular election—to fulfil the functions of the sovereign, when death or accident has put an end to her existence. "There is no such thing as a king in Nature," said Daubenton one day, in one of his lectures at the Jardin des Plantes. The audience immediately applauded, and cried "Bravo!" The honestsavantstopped, quite disconcerted, and asked his assistant naturalist the cause of this applause, perhaps ironical. "I must have said something stupid," repeated poor Daubenton between his teeth, remembering the saying of Phocion under similar circumstances. "No,"replied his assistant naturalist, "you have said nothing but what is quite true; but, without meaning it, you have made a political allusion. You spoke against kings, and our young republicans thought that you were alluding to Louis XVI." "Indeed," said the coadjutor of Buffon, "I had no idea that I was talking politics!" The bee republic, this little animal society, is admirably constituted, and all its citizens obey its laws with docility.
Bees have often served as an example, proving, according to some, the marvellous intelligence of certain little animals; according to others, an insect wonderfully developed. For ourselves, we have never well understood what people mean by the wordinstinct; and we frankly grant to the bee intelligence, as we do also to many animals. The greater number of the acts of their life seem to be the result of an idea, a mental deliberation, a determination come to after examination and reflection. The construction of their cells, always uniform, is, they say, the result of instinct. However, it happens that under particular circumstances, these little architects know how to abandon the beaten track of routine, reserving to themselves the power of returning, when it is useful to do so, to the traditional principles which ensure the beauty and regularity of their constructions. Bees have been seen, indeed, to deviate from their ordinary habits in order to correct certain irregularities—the result of accident or produced by the intervention of man—which had deranged their works.
Francis Huber relates that he saw bees propping up with pillars and flying buttresses of wax a piece of the honeycomb which had fallen down. At the same time, put on their guard by this sad accident, they set to work to fortify the principal framework of the other combs, and to fasten them more securely to the roof of the hive. This took place in the month of January, and therefore not during the working season, and when to provide against a distant eventuality was the only question. M. Waland has reported an analogous observation. Is there not here, in the first place, a true and excellent reasoning, then an act, an operation, a work, executed as the result of this reasoning? Now, an operation which is performed as the result of reasoning, is attributable to intelligence. Again, the bees give different sorts of food to the different sorts of larvæ. They know how to change this food when an accident has deprived the hive of its queen, and it is necessary to replace her; this is another proof of intelligence.
But it is, above all, in the face of an enemy that the intellectual faculties of these insects show themselves. There are always at the entrance of every hive three or four bees, which have nothing else todo but to guard the door, to keep a watch over incomers and outgoers, and to prevent an enemy or an intruder from slipping into the community. When one of them perceives an enemy on the borders of the hive, it dashes forwards towards it, and by a menacing and significant buzzing warns it to retire. If it does not understand the warning, which is a rare occurrence—for men, horses, dogs, and animals of all kinds know perfectly well the danger to which they expose themselves by approaching too near a hive in full operation[94]—the bee gets a reinforcement, and very soon returns to the combat with a determined battalion. All this is, it seems to us, intelligence.
Fig. 323.—Sentinel Bees guarding the entrance to the hive.Fig. 323.—Sentinel Bees guarding the entrance to the hive.
We have just said that there are sentinels at the entrance of every hive. They touch with their antennæ each individual that wishes to penetrate into the house. Hornets, the Death's-head Sphinx, slugs, &c., often try to introduce themselves into the hive. In that case, on the appeal of the watchful porters, all the bees combine their efforts to defend the entrance to their habitation. It would be impossible for them, in fact, to stop the ravages of their enemies when once entered into the interior. When a sphinx has succeeded in introducing itself into a hive, it sits down and drinks the honey in great bumpers, devouring all the provisions: and the unfortunate proprietors of the house are obliged to emigrate. To stop the entrance of moths which fly by night, the bees contract, and sometimes barricade, their door with a mixture of wax and propolis. When a slug or any other large animal has managed to introduce itself into the interior, they kill it and wrap it up in a shroud of propolis, as we have already related.
However, they are quite helpless against certain microscopic parasites which sometimes attack them. The bee-louse, which has been described and drawn by Réaumur in one of his Memoirs,[95]and the parasite which was described in 1866 by M. Duchemin, theSugar Acarus, which is found in the liquid honey of those hives which are attacked by the disease called the rot (pourriture), are the most serious enemies of the bee. TheGalleriasare also terrible enemies to them. Every hive thus attacked is ruined. These destructive insects attack also the wild bees, drive them from their nests, and destroy the wax of the cakes forming the comb. TheGalleriaimpudently makes his home in the houses of bees, wild as well as domesticated.
The habits of bees in their wild state, which make their nests in the trunks of trees and other cavities, do not differ from those of domesticated bees. Only the latter become tame with man, getting used to those who look after them, and becoming less aggressive towards strangers.
Apiculture, or bee-keeping, is still at the present day an important business, although honey has lost a great deal of its utility since the introduction of sugar into Europe. Without entering into manydetails on apiculture, that is to say, on the attention it is necessary to pay to bees, we will mention the principal duties of the bee-keeper.
When, in the spring, the beesfont la barbe(as the French say), that is, when they are getting ready to swarm, one must watch narrowly, so as not to lose them. As soon as a swarm has settled on a tree or on any artificial resting-place prepared on purpose in the neighbourhood, it is approached, after having covered one's face with a piece of transparent linen or canvas, or with a hood, and the cluster is caused to fall into a hive turned upside down. The hive is then turned up and again put in its place; or else, if it is only to serve for the conveyance of the swarm to another place, shaken about before the door of the hive which the swarm is destined to occupy. The bees then beat to arms, and set to work to enter their new habitation in a compact column.Fig. 324represents the manner in which one ought to proceed in order to gather a swarm of bees, which is fixed on a branch of a tree, and introduce it into the hive prepared for it. Let us listen on this subject to an experienced bee-keeper, M. Hamet: "As soon as a swarm has fixed itself anywhere, and there are only a few bees fluttering round the cluster, you must make your preparations for lodging them in a hive you have got ready for the purpose. Some people rub the hive on the inside with aromatic plants or honey, with the object of making the bees fix themselves there more surely. This precaution is not indispensable. What is essential is, that the hive should be clean, and free from any bad smell. It is a good thing to pass it beforehand over the flame of a straw fire, which destroys the eggs of insects and insects themselves which may have lodged in it.
Fig. 324.—Taking a swarm.
"After having covered your head with a veil, if the swarm has settled in a difficult place, and you are afraid of being stung, you hold the hive under the cluster of bees and make them fall into it, either by shaking the branch to which the swarm is attached, very hard, or by means of a small broom, or even with the hand, for then they very rarely sting: it is hardly ever necessary to take any precautions in approaching them, except for swarms which have been fixed for many hours, or since the day before. When the bees have fallen in a mass to the bottom of the hive, you turn this gently over, and place it on a piece of linen stretched out on the ground near the place where the swarm was, or on a tray, or simply on the ground itself, if it is dry and clean. You will have taken care to place on this linen a little wedge, a stick or a stone, to raise the hive a little, and to leave room through which the bees may enter. A great part of the bees which fall into the hive fix themselves on to its sides; but a good numberare dropped on the linen when the hive is turned. This is the manner in which you act when it is determined to lodge the swarm; but when the swarm is to be lodged in another hive, as we shall see farther on, immediately that the bees recognise the lodging which is destined for them, they set to work to beat to arms, and to enter in a compact column their new dwelling; those which are fluttering about in the air are summoned by this call, and are not long in alighting on the spot where the rest of their companions are fixed. At the end of a quarter or half an hour, at the most, all, or nearly all, have enteredthe hive. A few still hover about round the place where the swarm was fixed. If the number is considerable, and if many have stopped in this place, you must make them quit it by placing some offensive herb, such as celandine, horehound, field camomile, &c., on it, or project the smoke of a rag upon them, which will drive away the bees and force them to look for the colony or to return to the mother-hive. You may also project smoke, but in moderate quantities, on the bees grouped around and on the borders of the lodging which you have just given them, and which they will not be long in entering."[96]
A good swarm weighs from four to six pounds; one pound contains about four thousand bees. The second swarm weighs rarely more than two pounds, and the third still less. You can also form artificial swarms by drawing off the bees of one hive into another, an operation which is easy with bell-shaped hives. A glance atFig. 325, which represents the common hive of the north of France, that is to say, thebell-shaped, will show how easy it is to effect that drawing off,or pouring out of the bees, by joining together at their bases two hives, the one empty, the other containing a swarm. In order to have control over the bees during the operation, you must slightly stupefy them with the smoke of a smouldering rag.
Beehives are of a thousand different shapes, each of which has its particular advantage. They are made of wood and of straw; and the shapes used in different countries are very various. We give as examples, Figs.325,326,327,328,329.
Fig. 327.—Swiss hive.
The site, that is, the place where hives stand, is not a matter of indifference. It is generally supposed that bees ought to be established in a place fully exposed to the sun, and to the greatest heat of the day. This is a mistake. M. de Frarière, in his work on bees and bee-keeping, recommends the hives to be placed under trees, in such a way that they may be kept in the shade.Fig. 330shows the way in which M. de Frarière recommends hives to be arranged.
Dr. Monin, author of an interesting monograph of the bee, published in 1866, after treating of the different arrangements whichhave been recommended for hives, concludes thus:—"It is to satisfy all these requirements that experienced bee-keepers so much recommend for the hives an exposure to the ten o'clock sun; that is to say, that they should be turned in such a manner that the sun may shine on their entrances when it has already attained a certain height above the horizon, and sufficiently warmed the surrounding air for the bees, which the brightness of its rays has tempted forth, not to be seized with cold and numbed before they have been able to return home again."[97]
Fig. 328.—Polish hive.
In the month of March a gathering of wax is made by cutting away the lower part of the hives, where the cakes have grown old. The principal honey harvest takes place towards the end of May, June, or July, according to the place the hives are in. A larger or smaller gathering takes place according to the quantity of honey ready, and the state of the season. As the bees will not see the violation of their domicile and theft of their winter provisions without anger, to get possession of the honeycomb with which the hive is filled, you must put these irritable insects into such a state that they are unable to injure you. They can be rendered peaceable bysmoking them. The smoke is forced into the hive with the assistance of a pair of bellows, the arrangement of which is shown inFig. 331. If the fumigation is prolonged, the bees are very soon heard to beat their wings in a peculiar manner; they are then in what is called in Frenchl'état de bruissement, or the roaring state. When they stand up on their hind legs and agitate their wings, you can do with them almost anything you like—cut away the honeycomb, abstract the eggs, or take out the honey—without their troubling themselves about it. But this state of things must not last too long, or you may suffocate your bees. It is a sort of anæsthesis into which the bees have been thrown; and, as with men, this must not be prolonged.
Fig. 329.—Garden hive.
Some bee-keepers, in order to collect the honey harvest, suffocate their bees by burning sulphur matches. This is a bad practice. "Those authors who recommend us to suffocate the bees," says M. Hamet, "under the pretext that their colonies will become toonumerous, and who add, 'You cannot eat beef without killing the ox,' are more stupid than the animal they have chosen for their comparison." A hive often produces from twelve to twenty pounds of honey each year, and a proportional quantity of wax. It may, then, furnish to the bee-keeper an important revenue, especially as the rearing of bees gives scarcely any trouble, and involves scarcely any labour, as it is only necessary to select a spot with a proper exposure and well supplied with flowers.
Fig. 330.—Hives under the shade of trees.
Fig. 331.—Bellows used to stupefy Bees.
We possess in Europe two species or races of bees—the CommonBee (Apis mellifica), and the Ligurian Bee (Apis ligustica), whose abdomen is tawny, with the rings bordered with black. It is this latter species of which Virgil sang, and which is found in Italy and Greece. It has been remarked that the Ligurian bee pierces the calices, at their bases, of those flowers which are too long for it to penetrate into easily, and thus gets possession of the honey, whilst the common bees pass these flowers over. This observation proves that the former is the more intelligent of the two races. In Egypt a bee is reared called the Banded Bee (Apis fasciata).
Ten or twelve other species of honey-bees exist in Senegal, the Cape of Good Hope, Madagascar, East Indies at Timor (Apis Peronii), &c. The European bee has been acclimatised in America, but it soon returns to its wild state, as indeed do all our domestic animals when transported to the other hemisphere. At the Cape of Good Hope the Hottentots seek greedily after the nests of wild bees, a bird called the Indicator guiding them in this chase. This bird is observed flitting about from tree to tree, making a little significant cry. They have only then to follow this bird-informer, for it will not be long in stopping before some hollow tree which contains a nest of bees. The Hottentots always acknowledge its services by leaving it a part of the booty.
Fenimore Cooper, the novelist, tells us, in his work entitled "The Prairie," how the bee-hunters in America discover the wild hives. They place on a plank, covered with white paint still moist, a piece of bread covered with sugar or honey. The bees, in plundering this bread, get some of the paint on their bodies, and are then more easily tracked when they return to their hives. In North America they are, as it were, the harbingers of civilisation. When the Indians perceive a swarm trying to establish themselves in the solitudes of their forests, they say to one another, "The white man is approaching; he will soon be here." True pioneers of civilisation, these insects seem to announce to the forests and deserts of the New World that the reign of Nature has passed away, and that now the social state has begun to play its part—a part that will never end.
Fig. 332.A species of Melipona.
The bees peculiar to South America have no sting: these are theMeliponas. These (Fig. 332) are more compactly formed than our bees, have a more hairy body, and are smaller in size. Very numerous in the virgin forests, they make their nests in the hollows of trees. The wax produced by them is brown, and of an indifferent quality. Under thick leaves of wax are found cakes, with hexagonal cells, containing the males, females, and neuters. The cells of the larvæ are closed by the workers, and the larvæ spin themselves acocoon inside. All around the cradles are large round cells, entirely different in form from the cradles, in which the honey is stored. It is probable that the males, the workers, and the females, live together in great harmony, and even that there is in each nest more than one female, for the absence of the sting must prevent any combats. If a few cakes of theMelipona'shoneycomb are moved into the hollow of a tree, they always found there a new colony. We may conclude from this that the workers procure for themselves females whenever they want them by means of a special sort of food. The savage inhabitants of the American forests collect this honey; but, with the carelessness of uncivilised man, they at the same time destroy the nests of these precious insects. They have now begun to domesticate certain species ofMeliponas, by introducing them into earthen pots or wooden cases. These insects have been brought to Europe, but they have always perished in the first cold weather. During the summer of 1863 there was, in the Museum of Natural History of Paris, a nest ofMelipona scutellarisfrom Brazil, but it did not prosper.
The Humble or Bumble Bees.
If in the month of March one passes through the fields, which are beginning to get green, or through the woods, still deprived of their leaves, there may be seen, hovering hither and thither, great hairy insects, resembling gigantic bees. These are the females of a species of bee, called by the French "bourdons," from the buzzing noise they produce; and by us "humble bees," probably from their German name "hummel," given for the same reason. These females have been awakened by the spring sun. They examine the cavities of stones, the heaps of moss, and the holes in banks, &c., seeking for a suitable spot to construct a nest for their progeny.
The humble bees are of the same family as the bees, whom they resemble in their organisation. Like them, they are divided into males, females, and neuters, or workers. But their companies only last a year. At the end of autumn the whole population has become extinct, with the exception of the pregnant females, which pass the winter in a state of torpor at the bottom of some hole, where they wait till the spring to perpetuate their race. Their societies comprise generally only a small number of individuals, from fifty to three hundred. They are of peaceful habits, their ephemeral existence beginning and ending with the flower season.
Fig. 333.—Male Humble Bee.
The humble bees are known by their great size, their short, robust body, encircled by bands of very bright colours, and by the noise they make in flying. Their hind legs are armed with two spurs. The females and the workers have the same organisation for plundering flowers as the bees have: they have similar trunks, and their legs are fitted with brushes and baskets for gathering pollen. The males, like the males of hive bees, have no sting. The greater number have their dwelling-places underground; others make their nests on the surface of the soil, in the cracks of walls, in heaps of stones, &c. The former establish themselves in cavities situated as far as half a yard underground, and approached by a long narrow gallery. It is almost always a solitary female who has been the architect of the nest. She cleans out the cavity she has chosen, makes it as smooth as possible, and lines it with leaves and moss, to embellish the subterranean house in which she is to pass nearly all her existence.
The Moss Humble Bee (Bombus muscorum), called also theCarding Bee, chooses an excavation of very little depth in which to make its nest, or else itself undertakes the hollowing out of a hole in the ground. It covers this with a dome of moss or dry herbs. But it does not fly when transporting the moss, it drags it along the ground, with its back turned towards the nest. Having seized a packet of the moss, it sets to work to draw out the bits with its mandibles, and then pushing them under its body, throws them in the direction of the nest by a sort of kick from its hind legs. Sometimes, towards the end of the season, many humble bees are to be seen working in line. The first seizes the moss, and after having carded it, passes it under its body, and throws it to the second, which throws it on to the third, and so on, up to the nest. When the materials are ready, the insect makes use of them to manufacture a sort of hemispherical lid, or covering, resembling felt, which shuts the nest in, and is lined with wax. If you lift up this covering, or small dome, which it is not dangerous to do, for humble bees are not very aggressive, you find beneath it a nest composed of a coarse comb.
The cells which compose the nest, and which are to receive the larvæ of the insect, are of an oval shape, and of a pale yellow or even of a blackish colour.Fig. 334represents these cells. The wax of which they are composed has none of the qualities of that of hive bees, but is soft, sticky, and brownish.