The old Bee tree was becoming very crowded and the Queen-Mother grew
restless. There were many things to make her so. In the tree were
thousands of cells made ready for her eggs, and she had been busy for
days putting one in each. In the larger cells she laid eggs that would
hatch out Drones, and in the smaller ones she laid Worker eggs. She
never laid any Queen eggs. Perhaps she did not want any Queens among her
children, for there can never be two Queens in one swarm, and when a new
one is hatched, the Queen-Mother has to go away and find another home.
That is a law among the Bees.
The Workers, however, knew that there must be young Queens growing up
all the time. Supposing something should happen to the Queen-Mother,
what would become of the swarm if there were nobody to lay eggs? So
after she had laid several thousand Worker eggs, and it was time for the
young ones to hatch, they decided to change some of the babies into
young Queens. And this was easy enough. When they were out for honey,
they filled the pockets on their hind legs with pollen, the yellow dust
that is found in flowers. This was to be mixed with honey and water and
made into bread for the babies, who were now awake, and looked like
tiny white worms in the bottom of their cells. Then they made some that
was almost like sour jelly, and put it in a few of the Worker cells for
the tiny white worms, or Larvae, to eat. The Larvae that eat this jelly
grow up to be Queens, and can lay eggs. Those that eat the common bread
are either Drones or Workers, whichever their mother had planned them to
be.
After the Larvae were five or six days old, the Workers shut them up in
their cells and stopped feeding them. That was because the Larvae had
other things to do than eat. They had to spin their cocoons, and lie in
them until they were grown and ready to come out among the older Bees.
When a Larva, or Bee baby, has finished its cocoon, and is lying inside,
it is called a Pupa, and when a Pupa is full grown and has torn its way
out of the cocoon and wax, it is called a Drone, or a Worker, or a
Queen.
Now the Queen-Mother was restless. She could hear the young Queens
piping in their cells, and she knew that they wanted to come out and
drive her away. She wanted to get to them and stop their piping, but the
Workers stood in her way and prevented her. They knew it would not be
well for the Queen-Mother to meet her royal children, and when these
children tried to come out the Workers covered the doors of their cells
with another layer of wax, leaving little holes where they could put out
their tongues and be fed.
This made the Queen-Mother more restless than ever. "If I cannot do as I
wish to with my own children," she said, "I will leave the tree." And
she began walking back and forth as fast as she could, and talked a
great deal, and acted almost wild with impatience. The Workers saw how
she felt, and part of them decided to go with her. When a Worker made
up her mind to go with the Queen-Mother, she showed it by also acting
wild and walking back and forth, and talking a great deal, sometimes
fluttering her wings very fast. Then she would go for honey, because
when Bees are about to swarm they fill their honey-pockets just as full
as they can. At times the Queen-Mother would be quiet, and you might
almost think that she had given up going. Then suddenly she would grow
restless again, and all the Workers who were going with her would act as
she did, and they would get so warm with excitement that the air in the
tree became quite hot.
At last the Queen-Mother thought it time to start, and her followers
came around her in the tree, and were very still for a minute. Several
of the Workers had been flying in circles around the tree, and now they
came to the doorway and called. Then all came out, and hovered in the
air a few minutes before stopping to rest on a bush near by. When they
rested, the first Bee held on to the bush, the next Bee held on to her,
and that was the way they did until they were all clinging tightly
together in a squirming, dark-brown mass.
Ah, then the Queen-Mother was happy! She felt that she was young again,
and she thought, "How they love me, these dear Workers!" She stroked her
body with her legs to make herself as fine as possible, and she noticed,
with pleasure, how slender she was growing. "I had thought I should
never fly again," she said, "yet this is delightful. I believe I will go
off by myself for a little while."
So she flew off by herself and was talking rather airily to a Butterfly
when two of the Workers came after her.
"You may return to the rest," she said in a queenly way, as she motioned
to them with her feelers. "I will come by and by."
"No," said they, "you must come at once or we shall all go back to the
Bee tree. You must stay with us. You must do your part as it should be
done." And she had to go, for she knew in her heart that Queens have to
obey the law as well as other people.
After she had hung with the Workers on the bush for some time, the ones
who had gone ahead to find a new home for the swarm came back and gave
the signal for the rest to follow. They went to an old log near the
river-bank, and here they began the real work. Crawling through an
opening at one end, they found a roomy place within, and commenced to
clean house at once.
"If there is anything I do like," said a Worker, as she dropped a
splinter of rotten wood outside the door, "it is house-cleaning."
"So do I," said her sister. "But what a fuss the Drones always make when
we try to do anything of the sort! A pretty-looking home we'd have if
they took care of it!"
"I'm glad none of them came with us to this place," said the first
Worker. "I guess they knew they were not wanted."
"There, there!" said the Queen-Mother, coming up to where they were;
"you must not talk in that way. It may be that you would rather do
without Drones, and perhaps they would rather do without you; but I need
you both and I will not have any quarreling." When she said this she
walked away with her head in the air, and the Workers did not scold any
more. They knew that she was right, and, after all, she was their Queen,
even if she did have to obey the laws.
Next they got varnish from the buds of poplar trees and varnished over
all the cracks and little holes in the walls of their home, leaving open
only the place where they were to go in and out. They also covered with
varnish a few heavy fragments of wood that lay on the floor of their
home, and when this task was done it was all in order and ready for the
furniture, that is, the comb.
You know how the comb looks, and you know how they get the wax from
which to make it, but unless you are acquainted with the Bees, and have
seen them at work, you have no idea what busy creatures they are. The
Queen-Mother, as soon as the cells were ready and she could begin laying
eggs again, was as contented and happy as ever.
One day, when she was walking around a corner of the comb, she ran
against a sad and discouraged-looking Worker. "Why, what is the matter?"
said she, kindly. "Are you sick?"
"No," answered the Worker. "I'm not sick and I'm not tired, only I want
to get through."
"Through with what?" asked the Queen.
"With work! It is clean house, varnish the walls, make wax, build combs,
get honey, make bread and jelly, and feed the babies. And when they get
old enough they'll have to clean house, varnish the walls, make wax,
build combs, get honey, make bread and jelly, and feed the babies. I
want to know when it is going to stop, and Bees can spend their time in
play."
"Never," said the Queen-Mother; and she spoke very gently, for she saw
that the Worker was crazy. "It will never stop. If you had nothing to do
but play all your life you would soon want to die, and you ought to, for
there is no place in this world for idlers. You know that after a while
the Drones die because they do nothing, and it is right they should."
"Don't you ever get tired of your eggs?" asked the Worker.
"No," answered the Queen-Mother, "I don't. You see, I have so much to
think about, and happy thoughts make tasks light. And then, you know, it
is not always the same kind of egg, and that makes a pleasant change for
me. I will give you a motto to remember: 'As long as a Bee is well, work
is pleasant when done faithfully.'"
"Perhaps that is the matter with me," said the Worker, raising her
drooping head. "I have been careless lately when I thought nobody was
looking. I will try your way."
When she had gone, the Queen-Mother smiled to herself and said: "Poor
child! When work is no longer a pleasure, life is indeed sad. But any
Larva should know better than to work carelessly when she is not
watched."
[Illustration]