THE BEE-DRESS.
The Storifying system, when conducted with proper precaution, in a
bee-house, renders a bee-dress quite superfluous to the apiarian, as all
his operations may be safely performed at all times and in all weathers,
without one.
They may be as securely performed, by the storifier in a simple shed, if
the time of operating be either early or late in the day, when the bees
are all at home and can be confined by shutting the slide of the floor
board.
Still, as timidity may foster a feeling of insecurity, and as the armour
of a bee-dress may give confidence to an operator, I shall describe the
dress that appears to me most suitable.
In the first place the apiator should be armed with _a pair of thick
cloth gloves_, made to tie over the sleeves of his coat. Secondly, his
legs should be fortified by a _double pair of thick woollen or worsted
stockings_, or some kind of _stout leggings_ as they are called. And
thirdly, he should be provided with _a short dress of Scotch gauze or
catgut_. This dress should be so formed as to tie round the crown of
a hat having a shallow brim (about 2½ inches deep), should have short
sleeves to tie round the arms, and descend low enough to tie round the
body. _A woollen apron_ should also be worn, as high as the bottom of the
catgut dress, otherwise, in the language of Mr. Keys, the prying little
insects may find an opening of sufficient size to enable them to tickle
the belly. "Women," says Mr. K. "should not meddle with bees, without
a bee-dress, nor then without the addition of a man's coat, and I had
almost said of breeches also."
This dress is the most complete mode of securing an operator from bees
or wasps; but if he be adventurous enough to brave their attacks, I
recommend him first to drink or rinse his mouth with a little malt
liquor; to wash his face and hands with the same, and to approach them
with a bunch of sweet herbs in his hand, gently fanning his face with
them, whilst he is in the vicinity of their domicile, and breathing as
much as possible through his nose. (_Vide_ Part II. Bee's Sting.) In
case of an actual or threatened attack, (the latter of which may be
known by the peculiar noise which precedes it,) a defence by striking
at them would be highly imprudent. An attempt may be first made to put
them gently away; should that not succeed, the only resource is to retire
quietly, and to conceal the face in shrubs or boughs, if any be near, or
if not with the hands spread over it. The bees will then generally desist
from further attack, and go home.
The smart quick strokes of the wings, when bees are angry and prepared to
sting, give a sound very different from their usual buz. "Instead," says
Mr. Hunter, "of that soft contented noise made by the bee when coming
home loaded on a fine evening,--when a bee meditates an attack with its
sting, it makes a very different one." There is a piercing shrillness in
the sound, as the author and some of his friends have often experienced.
Messrs. Kirby and Spence, after quoting a passage from Mr. White's
Natural History, relative to the feigned attacks of some wild bees near
Lewes in Sussex, which "with a sharp and hostile sound dash and strike
round the heads and faces of intruders," make the following observations.
"The hive-bee will sometimes have recourse to the same expedient, when
her hive is approached too near, and thus give you notice what you may
expect, if you do not take her warning and retire.--Humble-bees when
disturbed, whether out of the nest or in it, assume some very grotesque
and at the same time threatening attitudes. If you put your finger to
them, they will either successively or simultaneously lift up the three
legs of one side; turn themselves upon their back, bend up their anus and
show their sting accompanied by a drop of poison. Sometimes they will
even spirt out that liquor."