It has a very long tongue, beautifully fringed with hairs at the end to
enable it to sweep the flower-tubes and drink in the honey. It is a most
difficult bee to catch, its vision being so acute that it is off like a
flash the moment it sees the net; it is therefore only after many
attempts that one can secure a specimen. The female is very different in
appearance, being densely covered with yellowish down, and is easily
known by her second pair of legs which are very long and clothed with
tufts of black hairs. Its nesting habits are the same as those of
Colletes, only the grubs remain in the cells all through the winter and
hatch out in the spring.
There are immense numbers of these bees on Hampstead Heath, and it is
said to be the species alluded to by Gilbert White, of Selborne, as
existing in colonies on Mount Carburn, near Lewes, and so bold is it
that when people walk near its nests it will rise on the wing and dash
against the faces of the intruders. One species of Anthophora makes its
cell on dry walls, where it looks like a lump of mud, as if a handful of
wet roadstuff had been thrown on the brickwork. These bees are clever
little masons and use sand, earth, chalk, and woody material, mixed in
different ways, to form the nurseries for the eggs they purpose to lay.
I have not as yet been able to find one of these nests, but I read that
they are about an inch deep, of the form and size of a lady’s thimble,
finely polished, of the colour of plaster-of-Paris and stained in
various places with yellow. These insects have to work very hard
scooping out clay from one bank, obtaining chalk from another, and sand
from the path or elsewhere, and then these materials have to be
moistened with their own saliva and made up into pellets of a size that
they are able to carry on the wing, and so by slow degrees the walls of
the cell are built of these tiny bricks all glued together by their own
cement. Inside there are cells with eggs and bee-food placed ready for
the young grub when it is hatched.
_MEGACHILE._
(LARGE-LIPPED.)
One day in summer I saw a bee go into a little hole in the brickwork of
our house, and knowing it was probably making a nest, I waited till it
came out and then caught it with my net that I might find out its
species and then let it go. I found it was the very interesting solitary
bee which lines its nest with rose-leaves (_Megachile Centuncularis_).
It is a rather handsome large insect, covered with brownish-yellow down,
and has furry-looking legs.
It is called sometimes the upholsterer-bee, because it uses such
delicate curtains for its nest. I used to think it was the pink
rose-petals that it used, but I have since found out more about its
ways, and often see where it has been at work on my rose-trees by the
circular holes it makes in the green leaves. It settles on the edge of a
rose-leaf, and holding it firmly between its fore-legs it saws out a
round piece of it, then flies with it to its nest and puts it neatly in
as a lining. It takes from nine to twelve pieces to form a cell, and
they are pieced together without any cement or glue so that, as they
dry, they form a neat little tunnel. In this the bee stores up the honey
and pollen of thistles which form, when mixed together, a sort of
rose-coloured conserve or jam, and then in this it lays its egg and
closes up the end of the cell with three pieces of leaf exactly joined
so as to fill up the entrance. In this way it works till the hole is
full of cells, then finally closes it up and leaves the nursery to
manage for itself. The leaves of the birch-tree, elm, and dog’s mercury
are used by other species, but they all choose some kind of leaf to line
their nests.
_ANTHIDIUM._
(A DWELLER IN FLOWERS.)
This is another pretty bee which chooses a hole in some tree-stem which
has been made already by a beetle or boring insect, and in order to make
things quite comfortable for her future family she goes to the woolly
hedge-nettle or the wild lychnis, and scraping off the wool she rolls it
into a ball and flies to her nest with it, then she unrolls the wool and
lines the sides of the hole with it, thus making a warm soft nest in
which to place her eggs and the store of pollen and honey which they
will require.
_ANTHOCOPA._
(A FLOWER-CHOPPER.)
I have not succeeded in capturing this very rare bee, but it is said to
have been found both in Scotland and England. It has a great liking for
colour, for it makes choice of the petals of the wild scarlet poppy with
which to line its nest. It bores into the hardest paths by the side of
corn-fields and then cuts little pieces out of the corn-poppy flowers
and curtains its nest with them, and, like all the rest, it provides a
store of food, lays its eggs, and then closes up the hole.
_OSMIA._
(SWEET SCENT OR PERFUME.)
This genus is so called because some species are said to throw out a
sweet odour when they are touched.
[Illustration: VARIEGATED DEODAR.]
There are about ten species of these bees in England, and we must look
very carefully if we wish to find their nests.
One kind of Osmia will scoop out the pith from a piece of bramble-stem
and make cells in it composed of minced-up bits of wood or leaves.
Another kind will choose an empty snail-shell and fill it up most
cleverly with little cells to hold her eggs. A third species of Osmia
thinks a keyhole is a most suitable place for her nursery, and will so
fill it up with plastered earth, eggs and pollen, that the lock is
rendered perfectly useless.
_HALICTUS._
(TO CROWD TOGETHER.)
This curious bee prefers to work after the sun has gone down, especially
on moonlight nights. Like the Colletes, it is fond of building in
colonies.
They burrow into the ground about eight inches, working in such crowds
that it is difficult to avoid treading upon them. They seem able to
manage with very little rest, for after all this night-work they are
equally diligent in the daytime collecting pollen in which they lay
their eggs at the bottom of the tunnels. These bees have very beautiful
wings, rich with all the colours of the rainbow, but, as they are not
very large, a magnifying glass is needed to enable one to see these
colours to advantage.
One of this species is the smallest bee in England; it would almost be
taken for a house-fly, but for its long antennæ. The most beautiful
specimens may often be found upon the flowers of the chickweed.
_ANDRÆNA._
There are seventy species of this bee, and their habits are much the
same as the other bees I have mentioned, but this genus is the victim of
a most strange enemy—a small winged beetle called Stylops.
The grub or larva of the Stylops is found in dandelion flowers, and when
the bees come seeking honey these little creatures climb on to the bee,
and, worse than that, they creep into its body, and there they live and
grow, feeding on the inside organs of the bee until they are fully
grown, when they turn into chrysalides.
Kirby, the great naturalist, was, I believe, the discoverer of this
wicked little insect. He saw a small lump on the under side of an
Andræna bee, and on taking it off with a pin he found to his surprise a
queer insect with milk-white wings and two staring black eyes peering
out of this lump—and this was the perfect Stylops, hatched from the body
of the poor bee, which, strange to say, was not killed by the parasite,
but appeared to suffer pain and irritation when the Stylops came out
between the joints of its body. It seems as if almost every bee and wasp
has a special enemy created to persecute it. We may sometimes see upon
our window-sills in summer a very brilliant little creature called the
Ruby-tailed fly. When the sun shines upon it, it looks like an emerald
suspended from a bright polished ruby with a pair of wings, so brilliant
is its metallic colouring. There are five species of this insect, and
they all prey upon mason bees and wasps, creeping into their cells and
laying their own eggs with those of the wasp or bee, which are of course
destroyed by the grub of this cruel intruder.
A French naturalist writes that he saw a Ruby-tail fly go into a
Solitary bee’s nest in a hole in a wall, and when the bee came back she
found the Ruby-tail, and had a desperate fight with her. The fly is able
to roll up into a ball as a hedgehog does, but this did not save her,
for the bee sawed off her wings, and, dragging her out of the nest,
threw her on the ground, and went off to get some more pollen. Poor
Ruby-tail was not going to be beaten; she climbed slowly up the wall
into the bee’s hole, and there she succeeded in laying her eggs before
the rightful owner returned, so after all the bee’s family were not
saved by the mother’s brave defence of her nest.
The Cuckoo fly is another species that victimises bees and wasps in the
same way, and the large tribe of ichneumon-flies are always on the watch
to lay their eggs in any living things that will suit their purpose.
They possess a long, flexible tube called an ovipositor, and by means of
this they can insert their eggs inside wasp and bees’ eggs, and even
into chrysalids and live caterpillars the cruel fly will drive this
tube, and leave her eggs where they will hatch, and live until they are
full grown, feeding on the living substance. I have sometimes kept
caterpillars hoping they would turn into beautiful butterflies, and
instead of that I have only had a crop of ichneumon-flies because their
eggs, unknown to me, had been previously laid in the bodies of the
unfortunate caterpillars. You may always know an ichneumon-fly by its
quivering antennæ; they are never still for a moment while daylight
lasts, and the fly itself may also be known by its long, slender body
with a hairlike waist. Some of the species are so minute that they lay
several of their eggs within a butterfly’s egg, and it affords quite
enough food for the ichneumon-grubs until they are full grown.
Others again are large insects with such a long and powerful tube that
they can pierce through solid wood in order to reach the concealed grub
in which they desire to lay their eggs. I believe the largest of the
species measures four inches from head to tail, the ovipositor being an
inch and three-quarters long. While I am speaking of parasites I may
mention the clever way in which a humble-bee will sometimes rid itself
of a species of mite which one may see swarming on its body. I give this
on the authority of Rev. Mr. Gordon, of Harting. He says that the bee
seeks an anthill on which it throws itself on its back, and sets up a
loud buzzing noise; the ants soon take the alarm, swarm out of their
nest, and at once fall upon the bee; but the latter simulates death,
stretching out its limbs rigid and motionless; the ants therefore leave
it alone, and seizing the mites which are running over its body, they
soon dispatch them all, when the bee gets up, gives itself a shake, and
flies away happily relieved of all its tormentors.
_WASPS._
I will now touch upon the habits of a few of the Solitary wasps.
It happens that my house is a favourite nesting-place for them. Some
years ago I noticed small cells made of grey mud placed in some of the
angles of the brickwork close to our drawing-room window, and seeing
that some were like little pockets half open, and others closed up, I
was led to watch and see what was going on.
A slender kind of wasp, a species of Odynerus, marked with black and
yellow stripes, came with materials in her mouth, and began working on
some of these mud cells against the wall; she kept on, hard at work all
day at her masonry.
At last I thought I would open one of the finished cells and see what
was inside, so with a fine penknife I broke away part of the cell wall,
and there I found a number of greyish green caterpillars half killed and
unable to move. Down at the bottom of the cell was the wasp’s egg, and
the instinct of the mother insect leads her to obtain these
caterpillars, and in order that they may be in fit condition for the
grub when it hatches out of the egg, she gives each of the caterpillars
a bite which paralyses it but does not affect any vital part, so it
lives on in a helpless condition, and the wasp grub literally eats its
way through the caterpillars till it is full-grown, then it turns to a
chrysalis, and after a time it becomes a black and yellow wasp like its
mother.
It is curious how tame insects will become if treated kindly. I used to
know these little wasps quite well, and if they came into the rooms, and
I found them on the window-panes they were quite accustomed to be placed
gently outside that they might go on with their nests. A nephew of mine
who holds a position in some sugar works at Cossipore in India, tells me
in one of his letters that the air in the factory is so filled with
wasps and hornets attracted there by the scent of the sugar, that they
constantly strike against his face as he walked about. The workpeople
and clerks take all kinds of precautions against them, wearing leather
leggings over their trousers and beating them off continually; they get
frightfully stung and tormented all day long, whilst my nephew, who is
fond of all living things, takes no precautions at all, has never
injured the insects, and never once had a sting from them. This shows
that insects can discriminate between friends and enemies.
In my nephew’s own house some wasps came in and formed a nest in his
dining-room on a wall bracket within a foot or two of his usual seat at
dinner, and they too were perfectly friendly and would settle on his
face and hands, and never think of stinging their friend.
I remember once in a country village seeing a man hard at work thrashing
corn in a barn, and quite near to him there was an immense hornet’s nest
hanging from a beam. We asked if he was not afraid of them, but he
smiled and said, “Oh, they know me well enough; one of ’em fell inside
my shirt t’other day, but he was very ceevil and never stung me, for I
never interferes wi’ them, so they don’t interfere wi’ me.”
Many years ago a curious thing happened in a friend’s house in Surrey.
In a spare bedroom which was not often used, there was a small Pembroke
table with two flaps which could be put up or down. The maid had to get
the room ready for a visitor, and in dusting the table she lifted up one
of the flaps when down fell a quantity of dry earth all full of whitish
grubs and chrysalids, and a few young wasps were also crawling about. It
was found on examination that a solitary wasp had gained some mode of
access to the room, and had made her family nest under the flap of the
table, and unless it had been thus happily discovered the room would
soon have been full of young wasps, much to the discomfort of the coming
visitor.
One of the mason wasps called Odynerus not only makes a tunnel a few
inches deep in the ground, generally in sandy banks, but it builds a
kind of little tube of grains of sand glued together and places it just
over the hole. It curves a little to one side, and is very possibly
intended to act as a protection against various flies and parasites that
would try to creep down and lay their eggs amongst those of the wasp.
This wasp stores up grey caterpillars for its young as the mason bees
do, so we see that they have their use in tending to reduce the number
of larvæ which prey upon our vegetables, and should be protected on that
account.
An old silver-fir at the Grove, which had become decayed in the centre,
became a home for countless thousands of a small species of wasp; they
scooped it into endless galleries and cells, and filled them with
half-dead bluebottles and other flies to serve as food for their grubs.
I sat and watched them at work for half an hour one day, and saw that
about every half-minute a wasp arrived, each one holding some kind of
fly in its mandibles; as I imagine this went on from early morning till
dusk we may easily reply to the frequent inquiry of, What use can wasps
be in the world? and why were such troublesome insects created? by
pointing to the useful labours of this despised creature in reducing,
not only the destructive grey caterpillars which abound in our gardens,
but also the swarms of flies which beset us in the summer months.
We had to take down this great fir-tree, as it was completely decayed
and likely to fall with the next high wind, and when it was felled we
saw the marvellous work the wasps had been carrying on—the stem was
completely honeycombed with wasp-cells and all through that summer
endless numbers of wasps continued to hatch out of the old tree-stem.
The mason wasps are a very serious evil in Florida and many other hot
countries, because of their tendency to fill up every convenient crevice
with their mud nests. For instance, a gun may be laid aside for a day or
two without a cover, and a mason wasp will at once fill up the barrel
with mud, and when the owner, all unsuspectingly, puts in the cartridge
and attempts to fire the gun, it will probably explode, and possibly
cause the death of the sportsman. Many a lock is rendered useless, and
all kind of domestic troubles are caused by this persevering insect.
I may here say a word about the wasps I have had to deal with in
Switzerland. I used often to find their pretty little nests, about the
size of a small rose, made of a grey papery material, fixed on various
objects, frequently on stones by the roadside, on tree-branches, or on
the walls of houses and churches.
I brought one home and placed it in a sunny window of the hotel we were
staying at. I had not noticed that the cells were full of young grubs,
and one morning we came down to find the room full of lively young wasps
which had hatched out of my nest, and we had to set to work and clear
them away before we could eat our breakfast in peace. A friend has
kindly lent me a somewhat similar nest she found on some heather in
England.
I have now spoken of a few of our most common Solitary bees and wasps.
There are hundreds of species, so that it is a wide subject and might be
indefinitely extended.
If any young people desire to study these curious insects, I may mention
a book which will be found very useful for identifying the species:
“British Bees,” by W. E. Shuckard, published by Lovell Reeve & Co.
With a magnifying glass one may see the two kinds of eyes with which
bees are furnished. The two large eyes with hundreds of facets which we
can easily see, are supposed to be for discerning objects near at hand.
Then on the top of the bee’s head are three little specks of eyes called
“ocelli,” placed in a triangle; these are believed to be for long
vision, to enable the bee to guide its flight in the air.
A small lens is an essential thing to carry about with us, revealing a
whole world of interest and beauty, which does not come within the range
of our ordinary vision.
DRONE-FLIES.
“Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum,
To him who muses through the wood at noon;
Or drowsy shepherd as he lies reclin’d,
With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade
Of willows gray, close crowding o’er the brook.”
JAMES THOMSON.
DRONE-FLIES.
(ERISTALIS TENAX.)
MY compassion has often been stirred in autumn as I watched the number
of unhappy drone-flies buzzing on the window-panes, day after day, until
they perished from cold and hunger. These flies closely resemble the
real drones, which are the males of the honey-bee and have four wings,
while these, being flies, have but two.
They are large, handsome insects, with a downy, yellow-brown thorax and
shining black body which moves up and down in a wasp-like manner. When
flying about the room they keep up a loud humming noise, which at once
betrays their presence.
As soon as cold weather begins these flies are driven to seek shelter in
our rooms, where they find warmth, but usually no food or welcome. This
year I thought I would prepare “a refuge for the destitute,” in the
shape of a small glass globe, with sufficient ventilation, a little
trough full of honeycomb, and a small pan of water. Into this little
home I introduced three of these dipterous “waifs and strays” I found
buzzing on the window-panes last October, and I suppose they liked their
quarters, for they settled down amicably enough, and spent their whole
time, like many beings far higher up in the scale of creation, in
eating, drinking, and sleeping! I can speak well of these drone-flies as
pet insects, for they become absolutely tame, so as to come on my
finger, and to bear being stroked with a soft feather. They cannot sting
or bite, as they possess no aggressive weapons of any kind, and having
proverbially nothing to do, they are very easy-going, happy little
creatures, only asking for sunshine and food to keep themselves in
health and contentment.
It is really a curious sight to watch the morning toilet of a drone-fly
through a magnifying glass. After rubbing the various legs well
together, the yellow down upon the head has to be attended to; it is
thoroughly combed by means of a row of small spines running down the
fore-legs; these are raised over the back of the insect, so that the
spines are drawn through and through the soft, downy fur until it is in
perfect order, the action reminding one irresistibly of the toilet of a
human being.
The head is placed on such a slender pivot that it can be turned in
every direction, and looks as if it would come off altogether as the fly
turns it this way and that, and vigorously combs and brushes it in every
part. Then the back and abdomen are cleansed from every speck of dust,
and not until all this is accomplished does the insect seem to care for
any food—thus setting to insects in general an excellent example of
cleanliness.
Attracted by the tempting scent, the fly might often be seen upon the
honeycomb, taking up the sweet contents of the cells with its long
proboscis, which is not unlike an elephant’s trunk, the honey being
drawn up by means of flaps at the end which act as suckers.
Often have I watched my drone flies and shown them to my friends, who
never fail to be interested, and pronounce them remarkably curious
creatures. Though so common, they are well worth observing in this way
through a magnifying glass, for a casual glance will not enable us to
see the full beauty of the eye with its endless facets, the structure of
the legs and the spiny combs, or the beautiful yellow fur which clothes
the thorax.
These flies of mine are let out in the room for exercise on fine days,
and enjoy flying about in the sunshine. One of them remained out for a
week or more, and when replaced with his friends he was seen to be thin
and starved as compared to the others who had lived in plenty.
I often notice the great difference of character that exists in insects.
These drone-flies do not appear to be at all unhappy in captivity, they
become so tame as to come on my finger and accept any suitable food
placed there, and after they have been flying about they will walk into
their globe as if perfectly content to abide in it. Not so the
honey-bee. A specimen was on the window-pane one very wet and stormy
day, and fearing it would die if I let it out of doors I introduced it
among the drone-flies. They, good, easy-going creatures, were quite
friendly towards the stranger, but the poor bee could not settle down—it
fussed all day up and down the glass, despised the sweet provender, and,
fretting, I supposed, at its absence from the community, was found dead
next morning.
One day in January I gathered a spray of sweet-scented coltsfoot in
flower, and placing it in a glass of water, enjoyed its delicious
perfume. Supposing it might contain some honey and prove acceptable to
the drone-flies, I let them investigate the flower, with the result that
they speedily became covered with its white pollen. I feared this might
clog their yellow down, and was about to brush it off with a feather,
when I saw, rather to my surprise, that the flies were greedily
devouring the pollen grains, brushing them off their downy bodies by
means of the combs on their fore-legs, and then the flaps at the end of
the proboscis rapidly picked up each grain until there was not one left.
I am glad to know this fact about their diet, as I can now give the
interesting pets both liquid and solid food, which will no doubt help to
maintain them in health and vigour.