Let the prudent bee-master be deeply impressed with the very great

importance of destroying _early_ in the season, the larvæ of the

bee-moth. "Prevention is," at all times, "better than cure": a single

pair of worms that are permitted to undergo their changes into the

winged insect, may give birth to some hundreds which before the close of

the season, may fill the Apiary with thousands of their kind. The

destruction of a single worm early in the Spring, may thus be more

efficacious than that of hundreds, at a later period. If the common

hives are used, these worms must be sought for in their hiding places,

under the edges of the hive; or the hive may be propped up, on the two

ends, with strips of wood, about three eighths of an inch thick; and a

piece of old woolen rag put between the bottom-board and the back of

the hive. Into this warm hiding place, the full grown worm will retreat

to spin its cocoon, and it may then be very easily caught and

effectually dealt with. Hollow sticks, or split joints of cane may be

set under the hives, so as to elevate them, or may be laid on the

bottom-board, and if they have a few small openings through which the

bees cannot enter, the worms will take possession of them, and may

easily be destroyed. Only provide some hollow, inaccessible to the bees,

but communicating with the hive and easily accessible to the worms when

they want to spin, and to yourself when you want them, and if the bees

are in good health, so that they will not permit the worms to spin among

the combs, you can, with ease, entrap nearly all of them. If the hive

has lost its queen, and the worms have gained possession of it, you can

do nothing for it better than to break it up as soon as possible, unless

you prefer to reserve it as a moth trap to devastate your whole Apiary.

I make use of blocks of a peculiar construction, in order both to entrap

the worms, and to exclude the moth from my hives. The only place where

the moth can enter, is just where the bees are going in and out, and

this passage may be contracted so as to suit the size of the colony: the

very shape of it is such that if the moth attempts to force an entrance,

she is obliged to travel over a space which is continually narrowing,

and of course, is more and more easily defended by the bees. My traps

are slightly elevated, so that the heat and odor of the hive pass under

them, and come out through small openings into which the moth can enter,

but which do not admit her into the hive. These openings, which are so

much like the crevices between the common hives and their bottom-boards,

the moth will enter, rather than attempt to force her way through the

guards, and finding here the nibblings and parings of comb and

bee-bread, in which her young can flourish, she deposits her eggs in a

place where they may be reached and destroyed. All this is on the

supposition that the hive has a healthy queen, and that the bees are

confined to a space which they can warm and defend. If there are no

guards and no resistance, or at best but a very feeble one, she will not

rest in any outer chamber, but will penetrate to the very heart of the

citadel, and there deposit her seeds of mischief. These same blocks have

also grooves which communicate with the _interior_ of the hives, and

which appear to the prowling worm in search of a comfortable nest, just

the very best possible place, so warm and snug and secure, in which to

spin its web, and "bide its time." When the hand of the bee-master

lights upon it, doubtless it has reason to feel that it has been caught

in its own craftiness.

If asked how much will such contrivances help the careless bee-man, I

answer, not one iota; nay, they will positively furnish him greater

facilities for destroying his bees. Worms will spin and hatch, and moths

will lay their eggs, under the blocks, and he will never remove them:

thus instead of traps he will have most beautiful devices for giving

more effectual aid and comfort to his enemies. Such persons, if they

ever attempt to keep bees on my plans, should use only my smooth blocks,

which will enable them to control, at will, the size of the entrance to

the hives, and which are exceedingly important in aiding the bees to

defend themselves against moths and robbers, and all enemies which seek

admission to their castle.

Let me, however, strongly advise the thoroughly and incorrigibly

careless, to have nothing to do with bees, either on my plan of

management, or any other; for they will find their time and money

almost certainly thrown away; unless their mishaps open their eyes to

the secret of their failure in other things, as well as in bee-keeping.

If I find that the worms, by any means have got the upper hand in one of

my hives, I take out the combs, shake off the bees, route out the worms

and restore the combs again to the bees: if there is reason to fear that

they contain eggs and small worms, I smoke them thoroughly with sulphur,

and air them well before they are returned. Such operations, however,

will very seldom be required. Shallow vessels containing sweetened

water, placed on the hives after sunset, will often entrap many of the

moths. Pans of milk are recommended by some as useful for this purpose.

So fond are the moths of something sweet, that I have caught them

_sticking fast_ to pieces of moist sugar-candy.

I cannot deny myself the pleasure of making an extract from an

article[24] from the pen of that accomplished scholar, and well-known

enthusiast in bee-culture, Henry K. Oliver, Esq. "We add a few words

respecting the enemies of bees. The mouse, the toad, the ant, the

stouter spiders, the wasp, the death-head moth, (Sphinx atropos,) and

all the varieties of gallinaceous birds, have, each and all, "a sweet

tooth," and like, very well, a dinner of raw bee. But the ravages of all

these are but a baby bite to the destruction caused by the bee-moth,

(Tinea mellonella.) These nimble-footed little mischievous vermin may be

seen, on any evening, from early May to October, fluttering about the

apiary, or running about the hives, at a speed to outstrip the swiftest

bee, and endeavoring to effect an entrance into the door way, for it is

within the hive that their instinct teaches them they must deposit their

eggs. You can hardly find them by day, for they are cunning and secrete

themselves. "They love darkness rather than light, because their deeds

are evil." They are a paltry looking, insignificant little grey-haired

pestilent race of wax-and-honey-eating and bee-destroying rascals, that

have baffled all contrivances that ingenuity has devised to conquer or

destroy them."

"Your committee would be very glad indeed to be able to suggest any

effectual means, by which to assist the honey-bee and its friends,

against the inroads of this, its bitterest and most successful foe,

whose desolating ravages are more lamented and more despondingly

referred to, than those of any other enemy. Various contrivances have

been announced, but none have proved efficacious to any full extent, and

we are compelled to say that there really is no security, except in a

very full, healthy and vigorous stock of bees, and in a very close and

well made hive, the door of which is of such dimensions of length and

height, that the nightly guards can effectually protect it. Not too long

a door, nor too high. If too long, the bees cannot easily guard it, and

if too high, the moth will get in over the heads of the guards. If the

guards catch one of them, her life is not worth insuring. But if the

moths, in any numbers, effect a lodgment in the hive, then the hive is

not worth insuring. They immediately commence laying their eggs, from

which comes, in a few days, a brownish white caterpillar, which encloses

itself, all but its head, in a silken cocoon. This head, covered with an

impenetrable coat of scaly mail, which bids defiance to the bees, is

thrust forward, just outside of the silken enclosure, and the gluttonous

pest eats all before it, wax, pollen, and exuviæ, until ruin to the

stock is inevitable. As says the Prophet Joel, speaking of the ravages

of the locust, "the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and

behind them a desolate wilderness." Look out, brethren, bee lovers, and

have your hives of the best unshaky, unknotty stock, with close fitting

joints, and well covered with three or four coats of paint. He who shall

be successful in devising the means of ridding the bee world of this

destructive and merciless pest, will richly deserve to be crowned "King

Bee," in perpetuity, to be entitled to a never-fading wreath of budding

honey flowers, from sweetly breathing fields, all murmuring with bees,

to be privileged to use, during his natural life, "night tapers from

their waxen thighs," best wax candles, (two to the pound!) to have an

annual offering from every bee-master, of ten pounds each, of very best

virgin honey, and to a body guard, for protection against all foes, of

thrice ten thousand workers, all armed and equipped, as Nature's law

directs. Who shall have these high honors?"

It might seem highly presumptuous for me, at this early date, to lay

claim to them, but I beg leave to enroll myself among the list of

honorable candidates, and I cheerfully submit my pretensions to the

suffrages of all intelligent keepers of bees.

In the chapter on Requisites, I have spoken of the ravages of the mouse,

and have there described the way in which my hives are guarded against

its intrusion. That some kinds of birds are fond of bees, every Apiarian

knows, to his cost; still, I cannot advise that any should, on this

account, be destroyed. It has been stated to me, by an intelligent

observer, that the King-bird, which devours them by scores, confines

himself always, in the season of drones, to those fat and lazy gentlemen

of leisure. I fear however, that this, as the children say, "is too good

news to be true," and that not only the industrious portion of the busy

community fall a prey to his fatal snap, but that the luxurious gourmand

can distinguish perfectly well, between an empty bee in search of food,

and one which is returning full laden to its fragrant home, and whose

honey-bag sweetens the delicious tit-bit, as the crushed unfortunate,

all ready sugared, glides daintily down his voracious maw! Still, I have

never yet been willing to destroy a bird, because of its fondness for

bees; and I advise all lovers of bees to have nothing to do with such

foolish practices. Unless we can check among our people, the stupid, as

well as inhuman custom of destroying so wantonly, on any pretence, and

often on none at all, the insectivorous birds, we shall soon, not only

be deprived of their aerial melody, among the leafy branches, but shall

lament over the ever increasing horde of destructive insects, which

ravage our fields and desolate our orchards, and from whose successful

inroads, nothing but the birds can ever protect us. Think of it, ye who

can enjoy no music made by these winged choristers of the skies, except

that of their agonizing screams, as they fall before your well-aimed

weapons, and flutter out their innocent lives before your heartless

gaze! Drive away as fast and as far as you please, from your cruel

premises, all the little birds that you cannot destroy, and then find,

if you can, those who will sympathize with you, when the caterpillars

weave their destroying webs over your leafless trees, and insects of all

kinds riot in glee, upon your blasted harvests! I hope that such a

healthy public opinion will soon prevail, that the man or boy who is

armed with a gun to shoot the little birds, will be scouted from all

humane and civilized society, and if he should be caught about such

contemptible business, will be too much ashamed even to look an honest

man in the face. I shall close what I have to say about the birds, with

the following beautiful translation of an old Greek poet's address to

the swallow.

"Attic maiden, honey fed,

Chirping warbler, bear'st away,

Thou the busy buzzing bee,

To thy callow brood a prey?

Warbler, thou a warbler seize?

Winged, one with lovely wings?

Guest thyself, by Summer brought,

Yellow guest whom Summer brings?

Wilt not quickly let it drop?

'Tis not fair, indeed 'tis wrong,

That the ceaseless warbler should

Die by mouth of ceaseless song."

_Merivale's Translation._

I have not the space to speak at length of the other enemies of the

honied race: nor indeed is it at all necessary. If the Apiarian only

succeeds in keeping his stocks strong, they will be their own best

protectors, and if he does not succeed in this, they would be of little

value, even if they had no enemies ever vigilant, to watch for their

halting. Nations which are both rich and feeble, invite attack, as well

as unfit themselves for vigorous resistance. Just so with the

commonwealth of bees. Unless amply guarded by thousands ready to die in

its defence, it is ever liable to fall a prey to some one of its many

enemies, which are all agreed in this one opinion, at least, that stolen

honey is much more sweet than the slow accumulations of patient

industry.

In the Chapters on Protection and Ventilation, I have spoken of the

fatal effects of dysentery. This disease can always be prevented by

proper caution on the part of the bee-keeper. Let him be careful not to

feed his bees, late in the season, on liquid honey, (see Chapter on

Feeding,) and let him keep them in dry and thoroughly protected hives.

If his situation is at all damp, and there is danger that water will

settle under his Protector, let him build it entirely _above ground_;

otherwise it may be as bad as a damp cellar, and incomparably worse than

nothing at all.

There is one disease, called by the Germans, "foul brood," of which I

know nothing, by my own observation, but which is, of all others, the

most fatal in its effects. The brood appear to die in the cells, after

they are sealed over by the bees, and the stench from their decaying

bodies infects the hive, and seems to paralyze the bees. This disease

is, in two instances, attributed by Dzierzon, to feeding bees on

"American Honey," or, as we call it, Southern Honey, which is brought

from Cuba, and other West India Islands. That such honey is not

ordinarily poisonous, is well known: probably that used by him, was

taken from diseased colonies. It is well known that if any honey or

combs are taken from a hive in which this pestilence is raging, it will

most surely infect the colonies to which they may be given. No foreign

honey ought therefore to be extensively used, until its quality has been

thoroughly tested. The extreme violence of this disease may be inferred

from the fact, that Dzierzon in one season, lost by it, between four and

five hundred colonies! As at present advised, if my colonies were

attacked by it, I should burn up the bees, combs, honey, frames, and

all, from every diseased hive; and then thoroughly scald and smoke with

sulphur, all such hives, and replenish them with bees from a healthy

stock.

There is a peculiar kind of dysentery which does not seem to affect a

whole colony, but confines its ravages to a small number of the bees. In

the early stages of this disease, those attacked are excessively

irritable, and will attempt to sting any one who comes near the hives.

If dissected, their stomachs are found to be already discolored by the

disease. In the latter stages of this complaint, they not only lose all

their irascibility, but seem very stupid, and may often be seen crawling

upon the ground unable to fly. Their abdomens are now unnaturally

swollen, and of a much lighter color than usual, owing to their being

filled with a yellow matter exceedingly offensive to the smell. I have

not yet ascertained the cause of this disease.

FOOTNOTES:

[21] Bevan.

[22] Bevan.

[23] A bee, a few days after it is hatched, is as fully competent for

all its duties, as it ever will be, at any subsequent period of its

life.

[24] Report on bees to the Essex County Agricultural Society, 1851.

CHAPTER XII.

LOSS OF THE QUEEN.

That the queen of a hive is often lost, and that the ruin of the whole

colony soon follows, unless such a loss is seasonably remedied, are

facts which ought to be well known to every observing bee-keeper.

Some queens appear to die of old age or disease, and at a time when

there are no worker-eggs, or larvæ of a suitable age, to enable the bees

to supply their loss. It is evident, however, that no very large

proportion of the queens which perish, are lost under such

circumstances. Either the bees are aware of the approaching end of their

aged mother, and take seasonable precautions to rear a successor; or

else she dies very suddenly, so as to leave behind her, brood of a

suitable age. It is seldom that a queen in a hive that is strong in

numbers and stores, dies either at a period of the year when there is no

brood from which another can be reared, or when there are no drones to

impregnate the one reared in her place. In speaking of the age of bees,

it has already been stated that queens commonly die in their fourth

year, while none of the workers live to be a year old. Not only is the

queen much longer lived than the other bees, but she seems to be

possessed of greater tenacity of life, so that when any disease

overtakes the colony, she is usually among the last to perish. By a most

admirable provision, their death ordinarily takes place under

circumstances the most favorable to their bereaved family. If it were

otherwise, the number of colonies which would annually perish, would be

very much greater than it now is; for as a number of superannuated

queens must die every year, many, or even most of them might die at a

season when their loss would necessarily involve the ruin of their whole

colony. In non-swarming hives, I have found cells in which queens were

reared, not to lead out a new swarm, but to supply the place of the old

one which had died in the hive. There are a few well authenticated

instances, in which a young queen has been matured before the death of

the old one, but after she had become quite aged and infirm. Still,

there are cases where old queens die, either so suddenly as to leave no

young brood behind them, or at a season when there are no drones to

impregnate the young queens.

That queens occasionally live to such an age as to become incapable of

laying worker eggs, is now a well established fact. The seminal

reservoir sometimes becomes exhausted, before the queen dies of old age,

and as it is never replenished, (see p. 44,) she can only lay

unimpregnated eggs, or such as produce drones instead of workers. This

is an additional confirmation of the theory first propounded by

Dzierzon. I am indebted to Mr. Wagner for the following facts. "In the

Bienenzeitung, for August, 1852, Count Stosch gives us the case of a

colony examined by himself, with the aid of an experienced Apiarian, on

the 14th of April, previous. The worker-brood was then found to be

healthy. In May following, the bees worked industriously, and built new

comb. Soon afterwards they ceased to build, and appeared dispirited; and

when, in the beginning of June, he examined the colony again, he found

plenty of drone brood in worker cells! The queen appeared weak and

languid. He confined her in a queen cage, and left her in the hive. The

bees clustered around the cage; but next morning the queen was found to

be dead. Here we seem to have the commencement, progress and termination

of super-annuation, all in the space of five or six weeks."

In the Spring of the year, as soon as the bees begin to fly, if their

motions are carefully watched, the Apiarian may even in the common

hives, generally ascertain from their actions, whether they are in

possession of a fertile queen. If they are seen to bring in bee-bread

with great eagerness, it follows, as a matter of course, that they have

brood, and are anxious to obtain fresh food for its nourishment. If any

hive does not industriously gather pollen, or accept the rye flour upon

which the others are feasting, then there is an almost absolute

certainty either that it has not a queen, or that she is not fertile, or

that the hive is seriously infested with worms, or that it is on the

very verge of starvation. An experienced eye will decide upon the

queenlessness, (to use the German term,) of a hive, from the restless

appearance of the bees. At this period of the year when they first

realize the magnitude of their loss, and before they have become in a

manner either reconciled to it, or indifferent to their fate, they roam

in an inquiring manner, in and out of the hive, and over its outside as

well as inside, and plainly manifest that something calamitous has

befallen them. Often those that return from the fields, instead of

entering the hive with that dispatchful haste so characteristic of a bee

returning well stored to a prosperous home, linger about the entrance

with an idle and very dissatisfied appearance, and the colony is

restless, long after the other stocks are quiet. Their home, like that

of the man who is cursed rather than blessed in his domestic relations,

is a melancholy place: and they only enter it with reluctant and

slow-moving steps!

If I could address a friendly word of advice to every married woman, I

would say, "Do all that you can to make your husband's home a place of

attraction. When absent from it, let his heart glow at the very thought

of returning to its dear enjoyments; and let his countenance

involuntarily put on a more cheerful look, and his joy-quickened steps

proclaim, as he is approaching, that he feels in his "heart of hearts,"

that "there is no place like home." Let her whom he has chosen as a wife

and companion, be the happy and honored Queen in his cheerful

habitation: let her be the center and soul about which his best

affections shall ever revolve. I know that there are brutes in the guise

of men, upon whom all the winning attractions of a prudent, virtuous

wife, make little or no impression. Alas that it should be so! but who

can tell how many, even of the most hopeless cases, have been saved for

two worlds, by a union with a virtuous woman, in whose "tongue was the

law of kindness," and of whom it could be said, "the heart of her

husband doth safely trust in her," for "she will do him good and not

evil, all the days of her life."

Said a man of large experience, "I scarcely know a woman who has an

intemperate husband, who did not either marry a man whose habits were

already bad, or who did not drive her husband to evil courses, (often

when such a calamitous result was the furthest possible from her

thoughts or wishes,) by making him feel that he had no happy home."

Think of it, ye who find that home is not full of dear delights, as well

to yourselves, as to your affectionate husbands! Try how much virtue

there may be in winning words and happy smiles, and the cheerful

discharge of household duties, and prove the utmost possible efficacy of

love and faith and prayer, before those words of fearful agony are

extorted from your despairing lips,

"Anywhere, anywhere

Out of the world;"

when amid tears and sighs of inexpressible agony, you settle down into

the heart-breaking conviction that you can have no home until you have

passed into that habitation not fashioned by human hands, or inhabited

by human hearts!

Is there any husband who can resist all the sweet attractions of a

lovely wife? who does not set a priceless value upon the very gem of his

life?

"If such there be, go mark him well;

High though his titles, proud his fame,

Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,

The wretch, concentered all in self,

Living, shall forfeit fair renown,

And doubly dying, shall go down

To the vile dust from whence he sprung

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung."--_Scott._

I trust my readers, remembering my profession, will pardon this long

digression to which I felt myself irresistibly impelled.

When the bees commence their work in the Spring, they give, as

previously stated, reliable evidence either that all is well, or that

ruin lurks within. In the common hives however, it is not always easy to

decide upon their real condition. The queenless ones do not, in all

cases, disclose their misfortune, any more than all unhappy husbands or

wives see fit to proclaim the full extent of their domestic

wretchedness: there is a vast amount of _seeming_ even in the little

world of the bee-hive. One great advantage in my mode of construction is

that I am never obliged to leave anything to vague conjecture; but I

can, in a few moments, open the interior, and know precisely what is the

real condition of the bees.

On one occasion I found that a colony which had been queenless for a

considerable time, utterly refused to raise another, and devoured all

the eggs which were given to them for that purpose! This colony was

afterwards supplied with an unimpregnated queen, but they refused to

accept of her, and attempted at once to smother her to death. I then

gave them a fertile queen, but she met with no better treatment. Facts

of a similar kind have been noticed, by other observers: thus it seems

that bees may not only become reconciled, as it were, to living without

a mother, but may pass into such an unnatural state as not only to

decline to provide themselves with another, but actually to refuse to

accept of one by whose agency they might be rescued from impending ruin!

Before expressing too much astonishment at such foolish conduct, let us

seriously inquire if it has not often an exact parallel in our obstinate

rejection of the provisions which God has made in the Gospel for our

moral and religious welfare.

If a colony which refuses to rear another queen, has a range of comb

given to it containing maturing brood, these poor motherless innocents,

as soon as they are able to work, perceive their loss, and will proceed

at once, if they have the means, to supply it! They have not yet grown

so hardened by habit to unnatural and ruinous courses, as not to feel

that something absolutely indispensable to their safety is wanting in

their hive.

A word to the young who may read this treatise. Although enjoined to

"remember your Creator in the days of your youth," you are constantly

tempted to neglect your religious duties, and to procrastinate their

performance until some more convenient season. Like the old bees in a

hive without a queen, that seek only their present enjoyment, forgetful

of the ruin which must surely overtake them, so you may find that when

manhood and old age arrive, you will have even less disposition to love

and serve the Lord than you now have. The fetters which bind you to

sinful habits will have strengthened with years until you find both the

inclination and ability to break them continually decreasing.

In the Spring, as soon as the weather becomes sufficiently pleasant, I

carefully examine all the hives which do not present the most

unmistakable evidences of health and vigor. If a queen is wanting, I at

once, if the colony is small, break it up, and add the bees to another

stock. If however, the colony should be very large, I sometimes join to

it one of my small stocks which has a healthy queen. It may be asked why

not supply the queenless stock with the means of raising another? Simply

because there would be no drones to impregnate her, in season; and the

whole operation would therefore result in an entire failure. Why not

endeavor then to preserve it, until the season for drones approaches,

and then give it a queen? Because it is in danger of being robbed or

destroyed by the moth, while the bees, if added to another stock, can do

me far more service than they could, if left to idleness in their old

hive. It must be remembered that I am not like the bee-keepers on the

old plan, extremely anxious to save every colony, however feeble: as I

can, at the proper season, form as many as I want, and with far less

trouble and expense than are required to make anything out of such

discouraged stocks.

If any of my colonies are found to be feeble in the Spring, but yet in

possession of a healthy queen, I help them to combs containing maturing

brood, in the manner already described. In short, I ascertain, at the

opening of the season, the exact condition of all my stock, and apply

such remedies as I find to be needed, giving to some, maturing brood, to

others honey, and breaking up all whose condition appears to admit of

no remedy. If however, the bees have not been multiplied too rapidly,

and proper care was taken to winter none but strong stocks, they will

need but little assistance in the Spring; and nearly all of them will

show indubitable signs of health and vigor.

I strongly recommend every prudent bee-keeper who uses my hives, to give

them all a most thorough over-hauling and cleansing, soon after the bees

begin to work in the Spring. The bees of any stock may, with their

combs, &c., all be transferred, in a few minutes, to a clean hive; and

their hive, after being thoroughly cleansed, may be used for another

transferred stock; and in this way, with one spare hive, the bees may

all be lodged in habitations from which every speck of dirt has been

removed. They will thus have hives which can by no possibility, harbor

any of the eggs, or larvæ of the moth, and which may be made perfectly

free from the least smell of must or mould or anything offensive to the

delicate senses of the bees. In making this thorough cleansing of all

the hives, the Apiarian will necessarily gain an exact knowledge of the

true condition of each stock, and will know which have spare honey, and

which require food: in short, which are in need of help in any respect,

and which have the requisite strength to lend a helping hand to others.

If any hive needs repairing, it may be put into perfect order, before it

is used again. Hives managed in this fashion, if the roofs and outside

covers are occasionally painted anew, will last for generations, and

will be found, on the score of cheapness, preferable, in the long run,

to any other kind. But I ought to beg pardon of the Genius of American

cheapness, who so kindly presides over the making of most of our

manufactures, and under whose shrewd tuition we are fast beginning to

believe that cheapness in the first cost of an article, is the main

point to which our attention should be directed!

Let us to be sure, save all that we can in the cost of construction, by

the greatest economy in the use of materials; let us compel every minute

to yield the greatest possible practical result, by the employment of

the most skillful workmen and the most ingenious machinery; but do let

us learn that slighting an article, so as to get up a mere sham, having

all the appearance of reality, with none of the substance, is the

poorest possible kind of pretended economy; to say nothing of the

tendency of such a system, to encourage in all the pursuits of life, the

narrow and selfish policy of doing nothing thoroughly, but everything

with reference to mere outside show, or the urgent necessities of the

present moment.

We have yet to describe under what circumstances, by far the larger

proportion of hives, become queenless. After the first swarm has gone

out with the old mother, then both the parent stock and all the

subsequent swarms, will have each a young queen which must always leave

the hive in order to be impregnated. It sometimes happens that the wings

of the young female are, from her birth, so imperfect that she either

refuses to sally out, or is unable to return to the hive, if she

ventures abroad. In either case, the old stock must, if left to its own

resources, speedily perish. Queens, in their contests with each other,

are sometimes so much crippled as to unfit them for flight, and

sometimes they are disabled by the rude treatment of the bees, who

insist on driving them away from the royal cells. The great majority,

however, of queens which are lost, perish when they leave the hive in

search of the drones. Their _extra size_ and _slower flight_ make them a

most tempting prey to the birds, ever on the watch in the vicinity of

the hives; and many in this way, perish. Others are destroyed by sudden

gusts of winds, which dash them against some hard object, or blow them

into the water; for queens are by no means, exempt from the misfortunes

common to the humblest of their race. Very frequently, in spite of all

their caution in noticing the position and appearance of their

habitation, before they left it, they make a fatal mistake on their

return, and are imprisoned and destroyed as they attempt to enter the

wrong hive. The precautions which should be used, to prevent such a

calamity, have been already described. If these are neglected, those who

build their hives of uniform size and appearance, will find themselves

losing many more queens than the person who uses the old-fashioned

boxes, hardly any two of which look just alike.

The bees seem to me, to have, as it were, an instinctive perception of

the dangers which await their new queen when she makes her excursion in

search of the drones, and often gather around her, and confine her, as

though they could not bear to have her leave! I have repeatedly noticed

them doing this, although I cannot affirm with positive certainty, why

they do it. They are usually excessively agitated when the queen leaves,

and often exhibit all the appearance of swarming. If the queen of an old

stock is lost in this way, her colony will gradually dwindle away. If

the queen of an after-swarm fails to return, the bees very speedily come

to nothing, if they remain in the hive; as a general rule, however, they

soon leave and attempt to add themselves to other colonies.

It would be highly interesting to ascertain in what way the bees become

informed of the loss of their queen. When she is taken from them under

such circumstances as to excite the whole colony, then we can easily see

how they find out that she is gone; for when greatly excited, they

always seek first to assure themselves of her safety; just as a tender

mother in time of danger forgets herself in her anxiety for her

helpless children! If however, the queen is carefully removed, so that

the colony is not disturbed, it is sometimes a day, or even more, before

they realize their loss. How do they first become aware of it? Perhaps

some dutiful bee feels that it is a long time since it has seen its

mother, and anxious to embrace her, makes diligent search for her

through the hive! The intelligence that she cannot anywhere be found, is

soon noised abroad, and the whole community are at once alarmed. At such

times, instead of calmly conversing by merely touching each other's

antennæ, they may be seen violently striking as it were, their antennæ

together, and by the most impassioned demonstrations manifesting their

agony and despair. I once removed a queen in such a manner as to cause

the bees to take wing and fill the air in search of her. She was

returned in a few minutes, and yet, on examining the colony, two days

after, I found that they had actually commenced the building of royal

cells, in order to raise another! The queen was unhurt and the cells

were not tenanted. Was this work begun by some that refused for a long

time to believe the others, when told that she was safe? Or was it begun

from the apprehension that she might again be removed?

Every colony which has a new queen, should be watched, in order that the

Apiarian may be seasonably apprised of her loss. The restless conduct of

the bees, on the evening of the day that she fails to return, will at

once inform the experienced bee-master of the accident which has

befallen his hive. If the bees cannot be supplied with another queen, or

with the means of raising one, if an old swarm it must be broken up, and

the bees added to another stock; if a new swarm it must always be broken

up, unless it can be supplied with a queen nearly mature, or else they

will build combs unfit for the rearing of workers. By the use of my

movable comb hives, all these operations can be easily performed. If any

hives have lost their young queen, they may be supplied, either with the

means of raising another, or with sealed queens from other hives, or,

(if the plan is found to answer,) with mature ones from the "Nursery."

As a matter of precaution, I generally give to all my stocks that are

raising young queens, or which have unimpregnated ones, a range of comb

containing brood and eggs, so that they may, in case of any accident to

their queen, proceed at once, to supply their loss. In this way, I

prevent them from being so dissatisfied as to leave the hive.

About a week after the young queens have hatched, I examine all the

hives which contain them, lifting out usually, some of the largest

combs, and those which ought to contain brood. If I find a comb which

has eggs or larvæ, I am satisfied that they have a fertile queen, and

shut up the hive; unless I wish to find her, in order to deprive her of

her wings, (see p. 203.) I can thus often satisfy myself in one or two

minutes. If no brood is found, I suspect that the queen has been lost,

or that she has some defect which has prevented her from leaving the

hive. If the brood-comb which I put into the hive, contains any

newly-formed royal cells, I _know_, without any further examination,

that the queen has been lost. If the weather has been unfavorable, or

the colony is quite weak, the young queen is sometimes not impregnated

as early as usual, and an allowance of a few days must be made on this

account. If the weather is favorable, and the colony a good one, the

queen usually leaves, the day after she finds herself mistress of a

family. In about two days more, she begins to lay her eggs. By waiting

about a week before the examination is made, ample allowance, in most

cases, is made.

Early in the month of September, I examine carefully all my hives, so as

to see that in every respect, they are in suitable condition for

wintering. If any need feeding, (See Chapter on Feeding,) they are fed

at this time. If any have more vacant room than they ought to have, I

partition off that part of the hive which they do not need. I always

expect to find some brood in every healthy hive at this time, and if in

any hive I find none, and ascertain that it is queenless, I either at

once break it up, or if it is strong in numbers supply it with a queen,

by adding to it some feebler stock. If bees, however, are properly

attended to, at the season when their young queens are impregnated, it

will be a very rare occurrence to find a queenless colony in the Fall.

The practical bee-keeper without further directions, will readily

perceive how any operation, which in the common hives, is performed with

difficulty, if it can be performed at all, is reduced to simplicity and

certainty, by the control of the combs. If however, bee-keepers will be

negligent and ignorant, no hive can possible make them very successful.

If they belong to the fraternity of "no eyes," who have kept bees all

their lives, and do not know that there is a queen, they will probably

derive no special pleasure from being compelled to believe what they

have always derided as humbug or book-knowledge; although I have seen

some bee-keepers very intelligent on most matters, who never seem to

have learned the first rudiments in the natural history of the bee.

Those who cannot, or will not learn for themselves, or who have not the

leisure or disposition to manage their own bees, may yet with my hives,

entrust their care to suitable persons who may, at the proper time,

attend to all their wants. Practical gardeners may find the management

of bees for their employers, to be quite a lucrative part of their

profession. With but little extra labor and with great certainty, they

may, from time to time, do all that the prosperity of the bees require;

carefully over-hauling them in the Spring, making new colonies, at the

suitable period, if any are wanted, giving them their surplus honey

receptacles, and removing them when full; and on the approach of Winter,

putting all the colonies into proper condition, to resist its rigors.

The business of the practical Apiarian, and that of the Gardener, seem

very naturally to go together, and one great advantage of my hive and

mode of management is the ease with which they may be successfully

united.

Some Apiarians after all that has been said, may still have doubts

whether the young queens leave the hive for impregnation; or may think

that the old ones occasionally leave, even when they do not go out to

lead a swarm. Such persons may, if they choose, easily convince

themselves by the following experiments of the accuracy of my

statements. About a week after hiving a second swarm, or after the birth

of a young queen in a hive, and after she has begun to lay eggs, open

the hive and remove her: carry her a few rods in front of the Apiary,

and let her fly; she will at once enter her own hive and thus show that

she has previously left it. If, however, an old queen is removed a short

time after hiving the swarm, she will not be able to distinguish her own

hive from any other, and will thus show that she has not left it, since

the swarm was hived. If this experiment is performed upon an old queen,

in a hive in which she was put the year before, when unimpregnated, the

same result will follow; for as she never left it after that event, she

will have lost all recollection of its relative position in the Apiary.

The first of these experiments has been suggested by Dzierzon.

CHAPTER XIII.

UNION OF STOCKS. TRANSFERRING BEES FROM THE COMMON HIVE. STARTING AN

APIARY.

Frequent allusions have been made to the importance, for various

reasons, of breaking up stocks and uniting them to other families in the

Apiary. Colonies which in the early Spring, are found to be queenless,

ought at once to be managed in this way, for even if not speedily

destroyed by their enemies, they are only consumers of the stores which

they gathered in their happier days. The same treatment should also be

extended to all that in the Fall, are found to be in a similar

condition.

As small colonies, even though possessed of a healthy queen, are never

able to winter as advantageously as large ones, the bees from several

such colonies ought to be put together, to enable them by keeping up the

necessary supply of heat, to survive the Winter on a smaller supply of

food. A certain quantity of animal heat must be maintained by bees, in

order to live at all, and if their numbers are too small, they can only

keep it up, by eating more than they would otherwise require. A small

swarm will thus not unfrequently, consume as much honey as one

containing two or three times as many bees. These are facts which have

been most thoroughly tested on a very large scale. If a hundred persons

are required to occupy, with comfort, a church that is capable of

accommodating a thousand, as much fuel or even more will be required,

to warm the small number as the large one.

If the stocks which are to be wintered, are in the common hives, the

condemned ones must be drummed out of their old encampment, sprinkled

with sugar-water scented with peppermint, or some other pleasant odor,

and added to the others, (see p. 212.) The colonies which are to be

united ought if possible, to stand side by side, some time before this

process is attempted. This can almost always be effected by a little

management, for while it would not be safe to move a colony all at once,

even a few yards to the right or left of the line of flight in which

the bees sally out to the fields, (especially if other hives are near,)

they may be moved a slight distance one day, and a little more the next,

and so on, until we have them at last in the desired place.

As persons may sometimes be obliged to move their Apiaries, during the

working season, I will here describe the way by which I was able to

accomplish such a removal, so as to benefit, instead of injuring my

bees. Selecting a pleasant day, I moved, early in the morning, a portion

of my very best stocks. A considerable number of bees from these

colonies, returned in the course of the day to the familiar spot; after

flying about for some time, in search of their hives, (if the weather

had been chilly many of them would have perished,) they at length

entered those standing next to their old homes. More of the strongest

were removed, on the next pleasant day: and this process was repeated,

until at last only one hive was left in the old Apiary. This was then

removed, and only a few bees returned to the old spot. I thus lost no

more bees, in moving a number of hives, than I should have lost in

moving one: and I conducted the process in such a way, as to strengthen

some of my feeble stocks, instead of very seriously diminishing their

scanty numbers. I have known the most serious losses to result from the

removal of an Apiary, conducted in the manner in which a change of

location is usually made.

The process of uniting colonies in my hive, is exceedingly simple. The

combs may, after the two colonies are sprinkled, be at once lifted out

from the one which is to be broken up, and put with all the bees upon

them, directly into the other hive. If the Apiarian judges it best to

save any of his very small colonies, he can confine them to one half or

one third of the central part of the hive, and fill the two empty ends

with straw, shavings, or any good non-conductor. Any one of my frames,

can, in a few minutes, by having tacked to it a thin piece of board or

paste-board, or even an old newspaper, be fashioned into a divider,

which will answer all practical purposes, and if it is stuffed with

cotton waste, &c., it will keep the bees uncommonly warm. If a _very_

small colony is to be preserved over Winter, the queen must be confined,

in the Fall, in a queen cage, to prevent the colony from deserting the

hive.

I shall now show how the bee-keeper who wishes only to keep a given

number of stocks, may do so, and yet secure from that number the largest

quantity of surplus honey.

If his bees are kept in non-swarming hives, he may undoubtedly, reap a

bounteous harvest from the avails of their industry. I do not however,

recommend this mode of bee-keeping as the best: still there are many so

situated that it may be much the best for them. Such persons, by using

my hives, can pursue the non-swarming plan to the best advantage. They

can by taking off the wings of their queens, be sure that their colonies

will not suddenly leave them; a casualty to which all other non-swarming

hives are sometimes liable; and by taking away the honey in small

quantities, they will always give the bees plenty of spare room for

storage, and yet avoid discouraging them, as is so often done when large

boxes are taken from them. (See Chapter on Honey.)

By removing from time to time, the old queens, the colonies can all be

kept in possession of queens, at the height of their fertility, and in

this way a very serious objection to the non-swarming, or as it is

frequently called, the storifying system, may be avoided. If at any

time, new colonies are wanted, they may be made in the manner already

described. In districts where the honey harvest is of very short

continuance, the non-swarming plan may be found to yield the largest

quantity of honey, and in case the season should prove unfavorable for

the gathering of honey, it will usually secure the largest returns from

a given number of stocks. I therefore prefer to keep a considerable

number of my colonies, on the storifying plan, and am confident of

securing from them, a good yield of honey, even in the most unfavorable

seasons. If bee-keepers will pursue the same system, they will not only

be on the safe side, but will be able to determine which method it will

be best for them to adopt, in order to make the most from their bees. As

a general rule, the Apiarian who increases the number of his colonies,

one third in a season, making one very powerful swarm from two, (See p.

211,) will have more surplus honey from the three, than he could have

obtained from the two, to say nothing of the value of his new swarms.

If, at the approach of Winter, he wishes to reduce his stocks down to

the Spring number, he may unite them in the manner described,

appropriating all the good honey of those which he breaks up, and saving

all their empty comb for the new colonies of the next season. The bees

in the doubled stock will winter most admirably; will consume but

little honey, in proportion to their numbers, and will be in most

excellent condition when the Spring opens. It must not, however, be

forgotten, that although they eat comparatively little in the Winter,

they must be well supplied in the Spring; as they will then have a very

large number of mouths to feed, to say nothing of the thousands of young

bees bred in the hive. If any old-fashioned bee-keeper wishes, he can

thus pursue the old plan, with only this modification; that he preserves

the lives of the bees in the hives which he wishes to take up; secures

his honey without any fumes of sulphur, and saves the empty comb to make

it worth nearly ten times as much to himself, as it would be, if melted

into wax. Let no humane bee-keeper ever feel that there is the slightest

necessity for so managing his bees as to make the comparison of

Shakespeare always apposite:

"When like the Bee, tolling from every flower

The virtuous sweets;

Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths, with honey,

We bring it to the hive; and like the bees,

Are murdered for our pains."

While I am an advocate for breaking up all stocks which cannot be

wintered advantageously, I never advise that a single bee should be

killed. Self interest and Christianity alike forbid the unnecessary

sacrifice.

TRANSFERRING BEES FROM THE COMMON HIVE TO THE MOVABLE COMB HIVE.

The construction of my hive is such, as to permit me to transfer bees

from the common hives, during all the season that the weather is warm

enough to permit them to fly; and yet to be able to guarantee that they

will receive no serious damage by the change.

On the 10th of November, 1852, in the latitude of Northern

Massachusetts, I transferred a colony which wintered in good health, and

which now, May, 1853, promises to make an excellent stock. The day was

warm, but after the operation was completed, the weather suddenly became

cold, and as the bees were not able to leave the hive in order to obtain

the water necessary for repairing their comb, they were supplied with

that indispensable article. They went to work _very_ busily, and in a

short time mended up their combs and attached them firmly to the frames.

The transfer may be made of any healthy colony, and if they are strong

in numbers, and the hive is well provisioned, and the weather is not too

cool when the operation is attempted, they will scarcely feel the

change. If the weather should be too chilly, it will be found almost

impossible to make a colony leave its old hive, and if the combs are cut

out, and the bees removed upon them, large numbers of them will take

wing, and becoming chilled, will be unable to join their companions, and

so will perish.

The process of transferring bees to my hives, is performed as follows.

Let the old hive be shut up and well drummed[25] and the bees, if

possible, be driven into an upper box. If they will not leave the hive

of their own accord, they will fill themselves, and when it is

ascertained that they are determined, if they can help it, not to be

tenants at will, the upper box must be removed, and the bees gently

sprinkled, so that they may all be sure to have nothing done to them on

an empty stomach. If possible, an end of the old box parallel with the

combs, must be pried off, so that they may be easily cut out. An old

hive or box should stand upon a sheet, in place of the removed stock,

and as fast as a comb is cut out, the bees should be shaken from it,

upon the sheet; a wing or anything soft, will often be of service in

brushing off the bees. Remember that they must not be hurt. If the

weather is so pleasant that many bees from other hives, are on the wing,

great care must be taken to prevent them from robbing. As fast therefore

as the bees are shaken from the combs, these should be put into an empty

hive or box, and covered with a cloth, or set in some place where they

will not be disturbed. As soon as all the combs have been removed, the

Apiarian should proceed to select and arrange them for his new hive. If

the transfer is made late in the season, care must be taken, of course,

to give the bees combs containing a generous allowance of honey for

their winter supplies; together with such combs as have brood, or are

best fitted for the rearing of workers. All coarse combs except such as

contain the honey which they need, should be rejected. Lay a frame upon

a piece of comb, and mark it so as to be able to cut it a trifle larger,

so that it will just _crowd_ into the frame, to remain in its place

until the bees have time to attach it. If the size of the combs is such,

that some of them cannot be cut so as to fit, then cut them to the best

advantage, and after putting them into the frames, wind some thread

around the upper and lower slats of the frame, so as to hold the combs

in their place, until the bees can fasten them. If however, any of the

combs which do not fit, have no honey in them, they may be fastened very

easily, by dipping their upper edges into melted rosin. When the

requisite number of combs are put into the frames, they should be placed

in the new hive, and slightly fastened on the rabbets with a mere touch

of paste, so as to hold them firmly in their places; this will be the

more necessary if the transfer is made so late in the season that the

bees cannot obtain the propolis necessary to fasten them, themselves.

As soon as the hive is thus prepared, let the temporary box into which

the bees have been driven, be removed, and their new home put in its

place. Shake out now the bees from the box, upon a sheet in front of

this hive, and the work is done; bees, brood, honey, bee-bread, empty

combs and all, have been nicely moved, and without any more serious loss

than is often incurred by any other moving family, which has to mourn

over some broken crockery, or other damage done in the necessary work of

establishing themselves in a new home! If this operation is performed at

a season of the year when there is much brood in the hive, and when the

weather is cool, care must be taken not to expose the brood, so that it

may become fatally chilled.

The best time for performing it, is late in the Fall, when there is but

little brood in the hive; or about ten days after the voluntary or

forced departure of a first swarm from the old stock. By this time, the

brood left by the old queen, will all be sealed over, and old enough to

bear exposure, especially as the weather, at swarming time, is usually

quite warm. A temperature, not lower than 70°, will do them no harm, for

if exposed to such a temperature, they will hatch, even if taken from

the bees.

I have spoken of the _best_ time for performing this operation. It may

be done at any season of the year, when the bees can fly without any

danger of being chilled, and I should not be afraid to attempt it, in

mid-winter, if the weather was as warm as it sometimes is. Let me here

earnestly caution all who keep bees, against meddling with them when the

weather is cool. Irreparable mischief is often done to them at such

times; they are tempted to fly, and thus perish from the cold, and

frequently they become so much excited, that they cannot retain their

fæces, but void them among the combs. If nothing worse ensues, they are

disturbed when they ought to be in almost death-like repose, and are

thus tempted to eat a much larger quantity of food than they would

otherwise have needed. Let the Apiarian remember that not a single

unnecessary motion should be required of a single bee: for all this, to

say nothing else, involves a foolish waste of food. (See p. 116.)

In all operations involving the transferring of bees, it is exceedingly

desirable that the new hives to which they are transferred should be

put, as near as possible, where the old ones stood. If other colonies

are in close proximity, the bees may be tempted to enter the wrong

hives, if their position is changed only a little; they are almost sure

to do this if the others resemble more closely than the new one, their

former habitation. If will be often advisable, to transport to the

distance of one or two miles, the stocks which are to be transferred; so

that the operation may be performed to the best advantage. In a few

weeks they may be brought back to the Apiary. In hiving swarms, and

transferring stocks, care must be taken to prevent the bees from getting

mixed with those of other colonies. If this precaution is neglected many

bees will be lost by joining other stocks, where they may be kindly

welcomed, or may at once be put to death. It is exceedingly difficult,

to tell before hand, what kind of a reception strange bees will meet

with, from a colony which they attempt to join. In the working season

they are much more likely to be well received, than at any other time,

especially if they come loaded with honey: still new swarms full of

honey, that attempt to enter other hives, are often killed at once. If a

colony which has an unimpregnated queen seeks to unite with another

which has a fertile one, then almost as a matter of course they are

destroyed! If by moving their hive, or in any other way, bees are made

to enter a hive containing an unimpregnated queen, they will often

destroy her, if they came from a family which was in possession of a

fertile one! If any thing of this kind is ever attempted, the queen

ought first to be confined in a queen cage. If while attempting a

transfer of the bees to a new hive, I am apprehensive of robbers

attacking the combs, or am pressed for want of time, I put only such

combs as contain brood into the frames, and set the others in a safe

place. The bees are now at once allowed to enter their new hive, and the

other combs are given to them at a more convenient time. The whole

process of transferal need not occupy more than an hour, and in some

cases it can be done in fifteen minutes. If the weather is hot, the

combs must not be exposed at all to the heat of the sun.

Until I had tested the feasibility of transferring bees from the old

hives, by means of my frames, I felt strongly opposed to any attempt to

dislodge them from their previous habitation. If they are transferred in

the usual way, it must be done when the combs are filled with brood; for

if delayed until late in the season, they will have no time to lay in a

store of provision against the Winter. Who can look without disgust,

upon the wanton destruction of thousands of their young, and the silly

waste of comb, which can be replaced only by the consumption of large

quantities of honey? In the great majority of such cases, the transfer,

unless made about the swarming season, and _previous_ to the issue of

the first swarm, will be an entire failure, and if made before, at best

only one colony is obtained, instead of the two, which are secured on my

plan. I never advise the transfer of a colony into _any_ hive, unless

their combs can be transferred with them, nor do I advise any except

practical Apiarians, to attempt to transfer them even to my hives. But

what if a colony is so old that its combs can only breed dwarfs? When I

find such a colony, I shall think it worth while to give specific

directions as to how it should be managed. The truth is, that of all the

many mistakes and impositions which have disgusted multitudes with the

very sound of "patent hive," none has been more fatal than the notion

that an old colony of bees could not be expected to prosper. Thousands

of the very best stocks have been wantonly sacrificed to this Chimera;

and so long as bee-keepers instead of studying the habits of the bee,

prefer to listen to the interested statements of ignorant, or

enthusiastic, or fraudulent persons, thousands more will suffer the same

fate. As to old stocks, the prejudice against them is just as foolish as

the silly notions of some who imagine that a woman is growing old, long

before she has reached her prime. Many a man of mature years who has

married a girl or a child, instead of a woman, has often had both time

enough, and cause enough to lament his folly.

It cannot be too strongly urged upon all who keep bees, either for love

or for money, to be exceedingly cautious in trying any new hive, or new

system of management. If you are ever so well satisfied that it will

answer all your expectations, enter upon it, at first, only on a small

scale; then, if it fulfills all its promises, or if _you_ can make it do

so, you may safely adopt it: at all events, you will not have to mourn

over large sums of money spent for nothing, and numerous powerful

colonies entirely destroyed. "Let well enough alone," should, to a great

extent, be the motto of every prudent bee-keeper. There is, however, a

golden mean between that obstinate and stupid conservatism which tries

nothing new, and, of course, learns nothing new, and that craving after

mere novelty, and that rash experimenting on an extravagant scale, which

is so characteristic of a large portion of our American people. It would

be difficult to find a better maxim than that which is ascribed to

David Crockett; "_Be sure you're right, then go ahead._"

What old bee-keeper has not had abundant proof that stocks eight or ten

years old, or even older, are often among the very best, in his whole

Apiary, always healthy and swarming with almost unfailing regularity! I

have seen such hives, which for more than fifteen years, have scarcely

failed, a single season, to throw a powerful swarm. I have one now ten

years old, in admirable condition, which a few years ago, swarmed three

times, and the first swarm sent off a colony the same season. All these

swarms were so early that they gathered ample supplies of honey, and

wintered without any assistance!

I have already spoken of old stocks flourishing for a long term of years

in hives of the roughest possible construction; and I shall now in

addition to my previous remarks assign a new reason for such unusual

prosperity. Without a single exception, I have found one or both of two

things to be true, of every such hive. Either it was a very large hive,

or else if not of unusual size, it contained a large quantity of

worker-comb. No hive which does not contain a good allowance of regular

comb of a size adapted to the rearing of workers, can ever in the nature

of things, prove a valuable stock hive. Many hives are so full of drone

combs that they breed a cloud of useless consumers, instead of the

thousands of industrious bees which ought to have occupied their places

in the combs. It frequently happens that when bees are put into a new

hive, the honey-harvest is at its height, and the bees finding it

difficult to build worker comb fast enough to hold their gatherings, are

tempted to construct long ranges of drone comb to receive their stores.

In this way, a hive often contains so small an allowance of

worker-comb, that it can never flourish, as the bees refuse to pull

down, and build over any of their old combs. All this can be easily

remedied by the use of the movable comb hive.

PROCURING BEES TO START AN APIARY.

A person ignorant of bees, must depend in a very great measure, on the

honesty of those from whom he purchases them. Many stocks are not worth

accepting as a gift: like a horse or cow, incurably diseased, they will

only prove a bill of vexatious expense. If an inexperienced person

wishes to commence bee-keeping, I advise him, by all means, to purchase

a new swarm of bees. It ought to be a large and early one. Second swarms

and all late and small first swarms, ought never to be purchased by one

who has no experience in Apiarian pursuits. They are very apt, in such

hands, to prove a failure. If all bee-keepers were of that exemplary

class of whom the Country Curate speaks, (see p. 33,) it would be

perfectly safe to order a swarm of any one keeping a stock of bees. This

however, is so far from being true, that some offer for sale, old stocks

which are worthless, or impose on the ignorant, small first swarms, and

second and even third swarms, as prime swarms worth the very highest

market price. If the novice purchases an old stock, he will have the

perplexities of swarming, &c., the first season, and before he has

obtained any experience. As it may, however, be sometimes advisable that

this should be done, unless he makes his purchase of a man known to be

honest, he should select his stock himself, at a period of the day when

the bees, in early Spring, are busily engaged in plying their labors. He

should purchase a colony which is very actively engaged in carrying in

bee-bread, and which, from the large number going in and out,

undoubtedly contains a vigorous population. The hive should be removed

at an hour when the bees are all at home. It may be gently inverted, and

a coarse towel placed over it, and then tacked fast, when the bees are

shut in. Have a steady horse, and before you start, be very sure that it

is _impossible_ for any bees to get out. Place the hive on some straw,

in a wagon that has easy springs, and the bees will have plenty of air,

and the combs, from the inverted position of the hive, will not be so

liable to be jarred loose. Never purchase a hive which contains much

comb just built; for it will be next to impossible to move it, in warm

weather, without loosening the new combs. If a new swarm is purchased,

it may be brought home as follows. Furnish the person on whose premises

it is to be hived, with a box holding at the very least, a cubic foot of

clear contents. Let the bottom-board of this temporary hive be clamped

on both ends, the clamps being about two inches wider than the thickness

of the board, so that when the hive is set on the bottom-board, it will

slip in between the upper projections of the clamps, and be kept an inch

from the ground, by the lower ones, so that air may pass under it. There

should be a hole in the bottom-board, about four inches in diameter, and

two of the same size in the opposite sides of the box, covered with wire

gauze, so that the bees may have an abundance of air, when they are shut

up. Three parallel strips, an inch and a half wide, should be nailed,

about one third of the way from the top of the temporary hive, at equal

distances apart, so that the bees may have every opportunity to cluster;

a few pieces of old comb, fastened strongly in the top with melted

rosin, will make the bees like it all the better. A handle made of a

strip of leather, should be nailed on the top. Let the bees be hived in

this box, and kept well shaded; at evening, or very early next morning,

the temporary hive which was propped up, when the bees were put into

it, may be shut close to its bottom-board, and a few screws put into the

upper projection of the clamps, so as to run through into the ends of

the box. In such a box, bees may be safely transported, almost any

reasonable distance: care being taken not to handle them roughly, and

never to keep them in the sun, or in any place where they have not

sufficient air. If the box is too small, or sufficient ventilators are

not put in, or if the bees are exposed to too much heat, they will be

sure to suffocate. If the swarm is unusually large, and the weather

excessively warm, they ought to be moved at night. Unless great care is

taken in moving bees, in very hot weather, they will be almost sure to

perish; therefore always be _certain_ that they have an abundance of

air. If they appear to be suffering for want of it, especially if they

begin to fall down from the cluster, and to lie in heaps on the

bottom-board, they should immediately be carried into a field or any

convenient place, and at once be allowed to fly: in such a case they

cannot be safely moved again, until towards night. This will never be

necessary if the box is large enough, and suitably ventilated.

I have frequently made a box for transporting new swarms, out of an old

tea-chest. When a new swarm is brought in this way to its intended home,

the bottom-board may be unscrewed, and the bees transferred at once, to

the new hive; (See p. 168.) In some cases, it may be advisable to send

away the new hive. In this case, if one of my hives is used, the spare

honey-board should be screwed down, and all the holes carefully stopped,

except two or three which ought to have some ventilators tacked over

them: the frames should be fastened with a little paste, so that they

will not start from their place, and after the bees are hived, the

blocks which close the entrance should be screwed down to their place,

keeping them however, a trifle less than an eighth of an inch from the

entrance, so as to give the bees all the air which they need. I very

much prefer sending a box for the bees: one person can easily carry two

such boxes, each with a swarm of bees; and if he chooses to fasten them

to two poles, or to a very large hoop, he may carry four, or even more.

If the Apiarian wishes, to be sure the first season, of getting some

honey from his bees, he will do well to procure two good swarms, and put

them both into one hive. (See p. 213.) To those who do not object to the

extra expense, I strongly recommend this course. Not unfrequently, they

will in a good season, obtain in spare honey from their doubled swarm,

an ample equivalent for its increased cost: at all events, such a

powerful swarm lays the foundations of a flourishing stock, which seldom

fails to answer all the reasonable expectations of its owner. If the

Apiary is commenced with swarms of the current season, and they have an

abundance of spare room in the upper boxes, there will be no swarming,

that season, and the beginner will have ample time to make himself

familiar with his bees, before being called to hive new swarms, or to

multiply colonies by artificial means.

Let no inexperienced person commence bee-keeping on a large scale; very

few who do so, find it to their advantage, and the most of them not only

meet with heavy losses, but abandon the pursuit in disgust. By the use

of my hives, the bee-keeper can easily multiply very rapidly, the number

of his colonies, as soon as he finds, not merely that money can be made

by keeping bees, but _that he can make it_. While I am certain that more

money can be made by a careful and experienced bee-keeper in a good

situation, from a given sum invested in an Apiary, than from the same

money invested in any other branch of rural economy, I am equally

certain that there is none in which a careless or inexperienced person

would be more sure to find his outlay result in an almost entire loss.

An Apiary neglected or mismanaged, is far worse than a farm overgrown

with weeds, or exhausted by ignorant tillage: for the land is still

there, and may, by prudent management, soon be made again to blossom

like the rose; but the bees, when once destroyed, can never be brought

back to life, unless the poetic fables of the Mantuan Bard, can be

accepted as the legitimate results of actual experience, and swarms of

bees, instead of clouds of filthy flies, can once more be obtained from

the carcases of decaying animals! I have seen an old medical work in

which Virgil's method of obtaining colonies of bees from the putrid body

of a cow slain for this special purpose, is not only credited, but

minutely described.

A large book would hardly suffice to set forth all the superstitions

connected with bees. I will refer to one which is very common and which

has often made a deep impression upon many minds. When any member of a

family dies, the bees are believed to be aware of what has happened, and

the hives are by some dressed in mourning, to pacify their sorrowing

occupants! Some persons imagine that if this is not done, the bees will

never afterwards prosper, while others assert, that the bees often take

their loss so much to heart, as to alight upon the coffin whenever it is

exposed! An intelligent clergyman on reading the sheets of this work,

stated to me that he had always refused to credit this latter fact,

until present at a funeral where the bees gathered in such large numbers

upon the coffin, as soon as it was brought out from the house, as to

excite considerable alarm. Some years after this occurrence, being

engaged in varnishing a table, and finding that the bees came and lit

upon it, he was convinced that the love of varnish, (see p. 85,) instead

of sorrow or respect for the dead, was the occasion of their gathering

round the coffin! How many superstitions in which often intelligent

persons most firmly confide, might if all the facts were known, be as

easily explained.

Before closing this Chapter, I must again strongly caution all

inexperienced bee-keepers, against attempting to transfer colonies from

an old hive. I am determined that if any find that they have made a

wanton sacrifice of their bees, they shall not impute their loss to my

directions. If they persist in making the attempt, let them, by all

means, either do it at break of day, before the bees of other hives will

be induced to commence robbing; or better still, let them do it not only

early in the morning, but let them carry the hive on which they intend

to operate, to a very considerable distance from the vicinity of the

other hives, and entirely out of sight of the Apiary. I prefer myself

this last plan, as I then run no risk of attracting other bees to steal

the honey, and acquire mischievous habits.

The bee-keeper is very often reminded by the actions of his bees of some

of the worst traits in poor human nature. When a man begins to sink

under misfortunes, how many are ready not simply to abandon him, but to

pounce upon him like greedy harpies, dragging, if they can, the very bed

from under his wife and helpless children, and appropriating all which

by any kind of maneuvering, they can possibly transfer to their already

overgrown coffers! With much the same spirit, more pardonable to be sure

in an insect, the bees from other hives, will gather round the one which

is being broken up, and while the disconsolate owners are lamenting over

their ruined prospects, will, with all imaginable rapacity and glee,

bear off every drop which they can possibly seize.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] Instead of using sticks, I much prefer to make the drumming with

the open palms of my hands.

CHAPTER XIV.

ROBBING.

Bees are exceedingly prone to rob each other, and unless suitable

precautions are used to prevent it, the Apiarian will often have cause

to mourn over the ruin of some of his most promising stocks. The moment

a departure is made from the old-fashioned mode of managing bees, the

liability to such misfortunes is increased, unless all operations are

performed by careful and well informed persons.

Before describing the precautions which I successfully employ, to guard

my colonies from robbing each other, or from being robbed by bees from a

strange Apiary, I shall first explain under what circumstances they are

ordinarily disposed to plunder each other. Idleness is with bees, as

well as with men, a most fruitful mother of mischief. Hence, it is

almost always when they are doing nothing in the fields, that they are

tempted to increase their stores by dishonest courses. Bees are,

however, much more excusable than the lazy rogues of the human family;

for the _bees_ are idle, not because they are indisposed to work, but

because they can find nothing to do. Unless there is some gross

mismanagement, on the part of their owner, they seldom attempt to live

upon stolen sweets, when they have ample opportunity to reap the

abundant harvests of honest industry. In this chapter, I shall be

obliged, however much against my will, to acknowledge that some

branches of morals in my little friends, need very close watching, and

that they too often make the lowest sort of distinction, between "mine

and thine." Still I feel bound to show that when thus overcome by

temptation, it is almost always, under circumstances in which their

careless owner is by far the most to blame.

In the Spring, as soon as the bees are able to fly abroad, "innatus

urget amor habendi," as Virgil has expressed it; that is, they begin to

feel the force of an innate love of honey-getting. They can find nothing

in the fields, and they begin at once, to see if they cannot appropriate

the spoils of some weaker hive. They are often impelled to this, by the

pressure of immediate want, or the salutary dread of approaching famine:

but truth obliges me to confess that not unfrequently some of the

strongest stocks, which have more than they would be able to consume,

even if they gathered nothing more for a whole year, are the most

anxious to prey upon the meager possessions of some feeble colony. Just

like some rich men who have more money than they can ever use, urged on

by the insatiable love of gain, "oppress the hireling in his wages, the

widow and the fatherless," and spin on all sides, their crafty webs to

entrap their poorer neighbors, who seldom escape from their toils, until

every dollar has been extracted from them, and as far as their worldly

goods are concerned, they resemble the skins and skeletons which line

the nest of some voracious old spider.

When I have seen some powerful hive of the kind just described,

condemned by its owner, in the Fall, to the sulphur pit, or deprived

unexpectedly of its queen, its stores plundered, and its combs eaten up

by the worms, I have often thought of the threatenings which God has

denounced against those who make dishonest gains "their hope, and say

unto the fine gold, Thou art my confidence."

In order to prevent colonies from attempting to rob, I always examine

them in the Spring, to ascertain that they have honey and are in

possession of a fertile queen. If they need food they are supplied with

it, (see Chapter on Feeding,) and if they are feeble or queenless, they

are managed according to the directions previously given. Bees seem to

have an instinctive perception of the weakness of a colony, and like the

bee-moth, they are almost certain to attack such stocks, especially when

they have no queen. Hence I can almost always tell that a colony is

queenless, by seeing robbers constantly attempting to force an entrance

into it.

It requires some knowledge of the habits of bees, to tell from their

motions, whether they are flying about a strange hive with some evil

intent, or whether they belong to the hive before which they are

hovering. A little experience however, will soon enable us to

discriminate between the honest inhabitants of a hive, and the robbers

which so often mingle themselves among the crowd. There is an

unmistakable air of roguery about a thieving bee, which to the observing

Apiarian, proclaims the nature of his calling, just as truly as the

appearance of a pickpocket in a crowd, enables the experienced police

officer to distinguish him from the honest folks, on whom he intends to

exercise his skill.

There is a certain sneaking look about a rogue of a bee, almost

indescribable, and yet perfectly obvious. It does not alight on the

hive, and boldly enter at once like an honest bee which is carrying home

its load. If they could only assume such an appearance of transparent

honesty, they would often be allowed by the unsuspecting door-keepers to

enter unquestioned, to see all the sights within, and to help themselves

to the very fat of the land. But there is a sort of nervous haste, and

guilty agitation in all their movements: they never alight boldly upon

the entrance board, or face the guards which watch the passage to the

hive; they know too well that if caught and overhauled by these trusty

guardians of the hive, their lives would hardly be worth insuring; hence

their anxiety to glide in, without touching one of the sentinels. If

detected, as they have no password to give, (having a strange smell,)

they are very speedily dealt with, according to their just deserts. If

they can only effect a secret entrance, those within take it for granted

that all is right, and seldom subject them to a close examination.

Sometimes bees which have lost their way, are mistaken by the

inexperienced, for robbers; there is however, a most marked distinction

between the conduct of the two. The arrant rogue when caught, attempts

with might and main, to pull away from his executioners, while the poor

bewildered unfortunate shrinks into the smallest compass, like a cowed

dog, and submits to whatever fate his captors may see fit to award him.

The class of dishonest bees which I have been describing, may be termed

the "Jerry Sneaks" of their profession, and after they have followed it

for some time, they lose all disposition for honest pursuits, and assume

a hang-dog sort of look, which is very peculiar. Constantly employed in

creeping into small holes, and daubing themselves with honey, they often

lose all the bright feathers and silky plumes which once so beautifully

adorned their bodies, and assume a smooth and almost black appearance;

just as the hat of the thievish loafer, acquires a "seedy" aspect, and

his garments, a shining and threadbare look. Dzierzon is of opinion that

the black bees which Huber describes, as being so bitterly persecuted by

the rest, are nothing more than these thieving bees. I call them old

convicts, dressed in prison garments, and incurably given up to

dishonest pursuits.

Bees sometimes act the part of highway robbers; some half dozen or more

of them, will waylay and attack a poor humble-bee which is returning

with a sack full of honey to his nest, like an honest trader, jogging

home with a well filled purse. They seize the poor bee, and give him at

once to understand that they must have the earnings of his industry.

They do not slay him. Oh no! they are much too selfish to endanger their

own precious persons; and even if they could kill him, without losing

their weapons, they would still be unable to extract his sweets from the

deep recesses of his honey bag: they therefore begin to bite and teaze

him, after the most approved fashion, all the time singing in his ears,

"not your money," but, "your honey or your life;" until utterly

discouraged, he delivers up his purse, by disgorging his honey from its

capacious receptacle. The graceless creatures cry "hands off," and

release him at once, while they lick up his spoils and carry it off to

their home.

The remark is frequently made that were rogues to spend half as much

time and ingenuity in gaining an honest living, as they do, in seeking

to impose upon their fellow-men, their efforts would often be crowned

with abundant success. Just so of many a dishonest bee. If it only knew

its true interests, it would be safely roving the smiling fields, in

search of honey, instead of longing for a tempting and yet dangerous

taste of forbidden sweets.

Bees sometimes carry on their depredations on a more magnificent scale.

Having ascertained the weakness of some neighboring colony, through the

sly intrusions of those who have entered the hive to spy out all "the

nakedness of the land," they prepare themselves for war, in the shape

of a pitched battle. The well-armed warriors sally out by thousands, to

attack the feeble hive against which they have so unjustly declared a

remorseless warfare. A furious onset is at once made, and the ground in

front of the assaulted hive is soon covered with the dead and dying

bodies of innumerable victims. Sometimes the baffled invaders are

compelled to sound a retreat; too often however, as in human contests,

right proves but a feeble barrier against superior might; the citadel is

stormed, and the work of rapine and pillage forthwith begins. And yet

after all, matters are not nearly so bad, as at first they seem to be.

The conquered bees, perceiving that there is no hope for them in

maintaining the unequal struggle, submit themselves to the pleasure of

the victors; nay more, they aid them in carrying off their own stores,

and are immediately incorporated into the triumphant nation! The poor

mother however, is left behind in her deserted home, some few of her

children which are faithful to the last, remaining with her, to perish

by her side, amid the sad ruins of their once happy home!

If the bee-keeper is unwilling to have his bees so demoralized, that

their value will be seriously diminished, he will be exceedingly careful

to do all that he possibly can to prevent them from robbing each other.

He will see that all queenless colonies are seasonably broken up in the

Spring, and all weak ones strengthened, and confined to a space which

they can warm and defend. If once his bees get a taste of forbidden

sweets, they will seldom stop until they have tested the strength of

every stock, and destroyed all that they possibly can. Even if the

colonies are able to defend themselves, many bees will be lost in these

encounters, and a large waste of time will invariably follow; for bees

whether engaged in attempting to rob, or in battling against the robbery

of others, are, to a very great extent, cut off both from the

disposition and the ability to engage in useful labors. They are like

nations that are impoverished by mutual assaults on each other: or in

which the apprehension of war, exerts a most blighting influence upon

every branch of peaceful industry.

I place very great reliance on the movable blocks which guard the

entrance to my hive, to assist colonies in defending themselves against

robbing bees, as well as the prowling bee-moth. These blocks are

triangular in shape, and enable the Apiarian to enlarge or contract the

entrance to the hive, at pleasure. In the Spring, the entrance is kept

open only about two inches, and if the colony is feeble, not more than

half an inch. If there is any sign of robbers being about, the small

colonies have their entrances closed, so that only a single bee can go

in and out at once. As the bottom-board slants forwards, the entrance is

on an inclined plane, and the bees which defend it, have a very great

advantage over those which attack them; the same in short, that the

inhabitants of a besieged fortress would have in defending a pass-way

similarly constructed. As only one bee can enter at a time, he is sure

to be overhauled, if he attempts ever so slyly to slip in: his

credentials are roughly demanded, and as he can produce none, he is at

once delivered over to the executioners. If an attempt is made to gain

admission by force, then as soon as a bee gets in, he finds hundreds, if

not thousands, standing in battle array, and he meets with a reception

altogether too warm for his comfort. I have sometimes stopped robbing,

even after it had proceeded so far that the assaulted bees had ceased to

offer any successful resistance, by putting my blocks before the

entrance, and permitting only a single bee to enter at once: the

dispirited colony have at once recovered heart, and have battled so

stoutly and successfully, as to beat off their assailants.

When bees are engaged in robbing a hive, they will often continue their

depredations to as late an hour as possible, and not unfrequently some

of them return home so late with their ill-gotten spoils, that they

cannot find the entrance to their own hive. Like the wicked man who

"deviseth mischief on his bed, and setteth himself in a way that is not

good," they are all night long, meditating new violence, and with the

very first peep of light, they sally out to complete their unlawful

doings.

Sometimes the Apiarian may be in doubt whether a colony is being robbed

or not, and may mistake the busy numbers that arrive and depart, for the

honest laborers of the hive; but let him look into the matter a little

more closely, and he will soon ascertain the true state of the case: the

bees that enter, instead of being heavily laden, with bodies hanging

down, unwieldy in their flight, and slow in all their movements, are

almost as hungry looking as Pharaoh's lean kine, while those that come

out, show by their burly looks, that like aldermen who have dined at the

expense of the City, they are filled to their utmost capacity.

If the Apiarian wishes to guard his bees against the fatal propensity to

plunder each other, he must be exceedingly careful not to have any combs

filled with honey unnecessarily exposed. An ignorant or careless person

attempting to multiply colonies on my plan, will be almost sure to tempt

his bees to rob each other. If he leaves any of the combs which he

removes, so that strange bees find them, they will, after once getting a

taste of the honey, fly to any hive upon which he begins to operate, and

attempt to appropriate a part of its contents. (See p. 304.) I have

already stated that when they can find an abundance of food in the

fields, bees are seldom inclined to rob; for this reason, with proper

precautions, it is not difficult to perform all the operations which are

necessary on my plan of management, at the proper season, without any

danger of demoralizing the bees. If however, they are attempted when

honey cannot be obtained, they should be performed with extreme caution,

and early in the morning, or late in the evening; or if possible, on a

day when the bees are not flying out from their hives. I have sometimes

seen the most powerful colonies in an Apiary, either robbed and

destroyed, or very greatly reduced in numbers, by the gross carelessness

or ignorance of their owner. He neglects to examine his hives at the

proper season, and the bees begin to rob a weak or queenless stock: as

soon as they are at the very height of their nefarious operations, he

attempts to interfere with their proceedings, either by shutting up the

hive, or by moving it to a new place. The air is now filled with greedy

and disappointed bees, and rather than fail in obtaining the expected

treasures, they assail with almost frantic desperation, some of the

neighboring stocks: in this way, the most powerful colonies are

sometimes utterly ruined, or if they escape, thousands of bees are slain

in defending their treasures, and thousands more of the assailants meet

with the same untimely end.

If the Apiarian perceives that one of his colonies is being robbed, he

should at once contract the entrance, so that only a single bee can get

in at a time; and if the robbers still persist in entering, he must

close it entirely. In a few minutes the outside of the hive will be

black with the greedy cormorants, and they will not abandon it, until

they have explored every crevice, and attempted to force themselves

through even the smallest openings. Before they assail a neighboring

colony, they should be sprinkled with cold water, and then instead of

feeling courage for new crimes, they will be glad to escape, thoroughly

drenched, to their proper homes. Unless the bees that are shut up can,

as in my hives, have an abundance of air, it will be necessary to carry

them at once into a dark and cool place. Early next morning the

condition of the hive should be examined, and the proper remedies if it

is weak or queenless should be applied; or if its condition is past

remedy, it should at once be broken up, and the bees united to another

stock.

I have been credibly informed of an exceedingly curious kind of robbing

among bees. Two colonies, both in good condition, seemed determined to

appropriate each other's labors: neither made any resistance to the

entrance of the plundering bees; but each seemed too busily intent upon

its own dishonest gains, to notice[26] that the work of subtraction kept

pace with that of addition. An intelligent Apiarian stated to me this

singular fact as occurring in his own Apiary. This is a very near

approximation to the story of the Kilkenny cats. Alas! that there should

be so much of equally short-sighted policy among human beings;

individuals, communities and nations seeking often to thrive by

attempting to prey upon the labors of others, instead of doing all that

they can, by industry and enterprise, to add to the common stock. I have

never, in my own experience, met with an instance of such silly

pilfering as the one described; but I have occasionally known bees to be

carrying on their labors, while others were stealing more than the

occupants of the hive were gathering, without their being aware of it.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] The bees in each colony had probably contracted the same smell, and

could not distinguish friends from foes.

CHAPTER XV.

DIRECTIONS FOR FEEDING BEES.

Few things in the practical department of the Apiary, are more important

and yet more shamefully neglected, or grossly mismanaged, than the

feeding of bees. In order to make this subject as clear as possible, I

shall begin with the Spring examination of the hives, and furnish

suitable directions for feeding during the whole season in which it

ought to be attempted. In the movable comb hives, the exact condition of

the bees with regard to stores, may be easily ascertained as soon as the

weather is warm enough to lift out the frames. In the common hives, this

can sometimes be ascertained from the glass sides; but often no reliable

information can be obtained. Even if the weight of the hive is known,

this will be no sure criterion of the quantity of honey it contains. The

comb in old hives, is often very thick, and of course, unusually heavy;

while vast stores of useless bee-bread have frequently been accumulated,

which entirely deceive the Apiarian, who attempts to judge of the

resources of a hive from its weight alone. On my system of bee-culture,

such an injurious surplus of bee-bread, is easily prevented; (See p.

102.)

If the bee-keeper ascertains or even suspects, in the Spring, that his

bees have not sufficient food, he must at once supply them with what

they need. Bees, at this season of the year, consume a very large

quantity of honey: they are stimulated to great activity by the

returning warmth, and are therefore compelled to eat much more than when

they were almost dormant among their combs. In addition to this extra

demand, they are now engaged in rearing thousands of young, and all

these require a liberal supply of food. Owing to the inexcusable neglect

of many bee-keepers, thousands of swarms perish annually after the

Spring has opened, and when they might have been saved, with but little

trouble or expense. Such abominable neglect is incomparably more cruel

than the old method of taking up the bees with sulphur; and those who

are guilty of it, are either too ignorant or too careless, to have any

thing to do with the management of bees. What would be thought of a

farmer's skill in his business, who should neglect to provide for the

wants of his cattle, and allow them to drop down lifeless in their

stalls, or in his barn-yard, when the fields, in a few weeks, will be

clothed again with the green mantle of delightful Spring! If any farmer

should do this, when food might easily be purchased, and should then,

while engaged in the work of skinning the skeleton carcasses of his

neglected herd, pretend that he could not afford to furnish, for a few

weeks, the food which would have kept them alive, he would not be a whit

more stupid than the bee-keeper attempting to justify himself on the

score of economy, while engaged in melting down the combs of a hive,

starved to death, after the Spring has fairly opened! Let such a person

blush at the pretence that he could not afford to feed his bees, the few

pounds of sugar or honey, which would have saved their lives, and

enabled them to repay him tenfold for his prudent care.

I always feed my bees a little, even if I know that they have enough and

to spare. There seems to be an intimate connection between the getting

of honey, and the rapid increase of breeding, in a hive; and the taste

of something sweet, however small, to be added to their hoards, exerts a

very stimulating effect upon the bees; a few spoonsfull a day, will be

gratefully received, and will be worth much more to a stock of bees in

the Spring, than at any other time.

By judicious early feeding, a whole Apiary may be not only encouraged to

breed much faster than they otherwise would have done; but they will be

inspired with unusual vigor and enterprise, and will afterwards increase

their stores with unusual rapidity. Great caution must be exercised in

supplying bees at this time with food, both to prevent them from being

tempted to rob each other, or to fill up with honey, the cells which

ought to be supplied with brood. Only a small allowance should be given

to them, and this from time to time, unless they are destitute of

supplies; and as soon as they begin to gather from the fields, the

feeding should be discontinued. Feeding, intended merely to encourage

the bees, and to promote early breeding, may be done in the open air. No

greater mistake can be made than to feed largely at this season of the

year. The bees take, to be sure, all that they can, and stow it up in

their cells, but what is the consequence? The honey which has been fed

to them, fills up their brood combs, and the increase of population is

most seriously interfered with; so that often when stocks which have not

been over-fed, are prepared not only to fill all the store combs in

their main hive, but to take speedy possession of the spare honey boxes,

a colony imprudently fed, is too small in numbers, to gather even as

much as the one which was not fed at all! The inexperienced Apiarian has

thus often made a worse use of his honey than he would have done, if he

had actually thrown it away! while all the time, he is deluding himself

with the vain expectation of reaping some wonderful profits, from what

he considers an improved mode of managing bees.

Such conduct in its results, appears to me very much like the noxious

influences under which too many of the children of the rich are so

fatally reared. With every want gratified, pampered and fed to the very

full, how often do we see them disappoint all the fond expectations of

parents and friends, their money proving only a curse, while not

unfrequently beggared in purse, and bankrupt in character, they

prematurely sink to an ignoble or dishonored grave. Think of it, ye who

are slaving in the service of Mammon, that ye may leave to your sons,

the overgrown wealth which usually proves a legacy of withering curses,

while you neglect to train them up in those habits of stern morality and

steady industry, and noble self-reliance, without which the wealth of

Croesus would be but a despicable portion! Think of it, as you

contrast its results in the bitter experience of thousands, with the

happier influences under which so many of our noblest men in Church and

State, have been nurtured and developed, and then pursue your sordid

policy, if you can. "There is that withholdeth" from good objects, "more

than is meet, and it tendeth to poverty:" yes, to poverty of Christian

virtue and manliness, and of those "treasures" which we are all

entreated by God himself, to "lay up" in the store-house of Heaven. Call

your narrow-mindedness and gross deficiencies in Christian liberality,

nothing more than a natural love of your children, and an earnest desire

to provide for your own household. Little fear there may be that _you_

will ever incur the charge of being "worse than an infidel" on this

point; but lay not on this account, any flattering unction to your

souls; look within, and see if the base idolatry of gold has not more to

do with your whole course of thinking and acting, than any love of wife

or children, relatives or friends!

Another _sermon_! does some one exclaim? Would then that it might be to

some of my readers a sermon indeed; "a word fitly spoken," "like apples

of gold in pictures of silver."

The prudent Apiarian will always regard the feeding of bees, except the

little, given to them by way of encouragement, as an evil to be

submitted to, only when absolutely necessary; and will very much prefer

to obtain his supplies from what Shakspeare has so beautifully termed

the "merry pillage" of the blooming fields, than from the more costly

stores of the neighboring grocery. If not engaged in the rapid increase

of stocks, he will seldom see a season so unfavorable as to be obliged

to purchase any food for his bees, unless he chooses to buy a cheaper

article, to replace the choice honey of which he has deprived them. Just

as soon as the Apiarian begins to multiply his stocks with very great

rapidity, he must calculate upon feeding great quantities of honey to

his bees. Before he attempts this on a large scale, let me once more

give him a friendly caution, and if possible, persuade him to try very

rapid multiplication with only a few of his stocks. In this way, he may

experiment to his heart's content, without running the risk of seriously

injuring his whole Apiary, and he may not only gain the skill and

experience which will enable him subsequently to conduct a rapid

increase, on a large scale, but may learn whether he is so situated that

he can profitably devote to it the time and money which it will

inevitably require.

Before giving directions for feeding bees when a rapid increase of

colonies is aimed at, I shall first show in what manner the bee-keeper

may feed his weak swarms in the Spring. If they are in the common hives,

a small quantity of liquid honey may, at once be poured among the combs

in which the bees are clustered: this may be done by pouring it into the

holes leading to the spare honey boxes, but a much better way is to

invert the hives, and pour in about a tea-cup full at once. The Apiarian

can then see just where to pour it; he need not fear that the bees will

be hurt by it; any more than a child will be either hurt or displeased

by the sweets which adhere to its hands and face, as it feasts upon a

generous allowance of the best sugar candy! When the bees have taken up

all that has been poured upon them, the hive may be replaced, and the

operation repeated in a few days: the oftener it is done, the better it

will suit them. If the weather is sufficiently warm to allow the bees to

fly without being chilled, the food may be put in some old combs, or in

a feeder, and set in a sunny place, a rod or more from their hives. If

placed too near, the bees may be tempted to rob each other. With my

hives, I can pour the honey into some empty comb, and then put the frame

containing it, directly into the hive; or I can set the feeder or honey

in the comb, in the hive near the frames which contain the bees. I have

already stated, (see p. 225,) that unless a colony can be supplied with

a sufficient number of bees, it cannot be aided by giving it food. If

the bees are not numerous enough to take charge of the eggs which the

queen can lay, or at least, of a large number of them, they can seldom,

unless they have a tropical season before them, increase rapidly enough

to be of any value. If they are numerous enough to raise a great many

young bees, but too few to build new comb, they must be fed very

moderately, or they will be sure to fill up their brood comb with honey,

instead of devoting themselves to the rapid increase of their numbers.

If the Apiarian has plenty of empty worker comb which he can give them,

he ought to supply them quite sparingly with honey, even when they are

considerably numerous, in order to have them breed as fast as possible;

not so sparingly however, as to prevent them from storing up any honey

in sealed cells; or they will not be encouraged to breed as fast as they

otherwise would. If he has no spare comb, and the hive is populous

enough to build new comb, it must be supplied moderately, and by all

means, _regularly_ with the means of doing this; the object being to

have comb building and breeding go together, so as mutually to aid each

other. If the feeding is not regular, so as to resemble the natural

supplies when honey is obtained from the blossoms, the bees will not use

the food given to them, in building new comb, but chiefly in filling up

all the cells previously built. If honey can be obtained regularly, and

in sufficient quantities from the blossoms, the small colonies or nuclei

will need no feeding until the failure of the natural supplies.

In all these operations, the main object should be to make every thing

bend to the most rapid production of _brood_; give me the bees, and I

can easily show how they may be fed, so as to make strong and prosperous

stocks; whereas if the bees are wanting, every thing else will be in

vain: just as a land where there are many stout hands and courageous

hearts, although comparatively barren, will in due time, be made to "bud

and blossom as the rose," while a second Eden, if inhabited by a scanty

and discouraged population, must speedily be overgrown with briars and

thorns.

If strong stocks are deprived of a portion of their combs, so that they

cannot from natural sources, at once begin to refill all vacancies, they

too must be fed.

I have probably said enough to show the inexperienced that the rapid

multiplication of colonies is not a very simple matter, and that they

will do well not to attempt it on a large scale. By the time the honey

harvest ordinarily closes, all the colonies in the Apiaries of all

except the skillful, ought to be both strong in numbers and in stores;

at least the _aggregate_ resources of the colonies should be such that

when an equal division is made among them, there will be enough for them

all. This may ordinarily be effected, and yet the number of the colonies

be tripled in one season; and in situations where buckwheat is

extensively cultivated, a considerable quantity of surplus honey may

even then be frequently obtained from the bees. Early in the month of

September, or better still, by the middle of August, if the colonies are

sufficiently strong in numbers, I advise that if feeding is necessary to

winter the bees, it should be thoroughly attended to. If delayed later

than this, in the latitude of our Northern States, the bees may not have

sufficient time to seal over the honey fed to them, and will be almost

sure to suffer from dysentery, during the ensuing Winter. Unsealed

honey, almost always, in cool weather, attracts moisture, and sours in

the combs, and if the bees are compelled to feed upon it, they are very

liable to become diseased. This is the reason why bees when fed with

liquid honey, late in the Fall, or during the Winter, are almost sure to

suffer from disease. A very interesting fact confirming these views as

to the danger resulting from the use of sour food, has come under my

notice this Spring. A colony of bees were fed for some time with

suitable food, and appeared to be in perfect health, flying in and out

with great animation. Their owner, on one occasion, before leaving for

the day, gave them some molasses which was so _sour_, that it could not

be used in the family. On returning, at evening, he was informed that

the bees had been dropping their filth over every thing in the vicinity

of the hive. On examining them, next day, they were all found dead on

the bottom-board and among the combs! The acid food had acted upon them

as a violent cathartic, and had brought on a complaint of which they

all died in less than 24 hours: the hive was found to contain an ample

allowance of honey and bee-bread.

If the Apiarian, on examining the condition of his stocks, finds that

some have more than they need, and others not enough, his most prudent

course will be to make an equitable division of the honey, among his

different stocks. This may seem to be a very Agrarian sort of procedure,

and yet it will answer perfectly well in the management of bees. Those

that were helped, will not spend the next season in idleness, relying

upon the same sort of aid; nor will those that were relieved of their

surplus stores, remember the deprivation, and limit the extent of their

gatherings to a bare competency. With men, most unquestionably, such an

annual division, unless they were perfect, would derange the whole

course of affairs, and speedily impoverish any community in which it

might be attempted. I always prefer to take away a considerable quantity

of honey from my stocks, which have too generous a supply, and to

replace it with empty combs suitable for the rearing of workers; as I

find that when bees have too much honey in the Fall, they do not

ordinarily breed as fast in the ensuing Spring, as they otherwise would.

A portion of this honey should be carefully put away in the frames, and

kept in a close box, safe against all intruders, and where it will not

be exposed to frost; so that if any colonies in the Spring, are found to

be in want of food, they may easily be supplied.

In the Spring examination, if any colonies have too much honey, a

portion of it ought by all means to be taken away. Such a deprivation,

if judiciously performed, will always stimulate them to increased

activity. Every strong stock, as soon as it can gather enough honey to

construct comb, ought to have one or two combs which contain no brood

removed, and their places supplied with empty frames, in order that they

may be induced to exert themselves to the utmost. An empty frame

inserted between full ones, will be replenished with comb very speedily,

and often the combs removed will be so much clear gain. If at any time

there is a sudden supply of honey, and the bees are reluctant to enter

the boxes, or it is not probable that the supply will continue long

enough to enable them to fill them, the removal of some of the combs

from the main hive so as to have empty ones filled, will often be highly

advantageous.

If in the Fall of the year, the bee-keeper finds that some of his

colonies need feeding, and if they are not populous enough to make good

stock hives in the ensuing Spring, then instead of wasting time and

money on them, he should at once, break them up; (See p. 322.) They will

seldom pay for the labor bestowed on them, and the bees will be much

more serviceable, if added to other stocks. The Apiarian cannot be too

deeply impressed with the important truth, that his profits in

bee-keeping will all come from his _strong_ stocks, and that if he

cannot manage so as to have such colonies early, he had better let

bee-keeping alone.

If liquid honey is fed to bees, it should always, (see p. 322,) be given

to them seasonably, so that they may seal it over before the approach of

cold weather. West India honey has for many years, been used to very

good advantage, as a bee-feed. It should never be used in its raw state,

as it is often filled with impurities, and is very liable to sour or

candy in the cells, but should be mixed with about two parts of good

white sugar, to three of honey and one of water, and brought to the

boiling point; as soon as it begins to boil, it should be set to cool,

and all the impurities will rise to the top, and may be skimmed off. If

it is found to be too thick, a little more water may be added to it; it

ought however, never to be made thinner than the natural consistence of

good honey. Such a mixture will cost for a small quantity, about seven

cents a pound, and will probably be found the cheapest liquid food,

which can be given to bees. Brown sugar may be used with the honey, but

the food will not be so good.