HONEY-COMB.
To excite our admiration of the industry and ingenuity of Bees,
we need only take into our hands a piece of _honey-comb_, and examine it
attentively. Its neatness, its beauty, its construction, the similarity
and exact proportion of its double web of cells, for a honey-comb is,
in fact, a web of cell-work on both sides, are most admirable, and
calculated to lead the contemplative mind from nature's work up to
nature's God.
When a swarm of Bees is put into a hive, or into a box, they immediately
set about constructing combs in it, and proceed in their building work
with a rapidity that is truly astonishing. The cells that are opposite to
each other are advanced alike: the work on one side is just as forward
and in the same state as that on the other side. In the cells first
finished the Queen begins to deposit her eggs. In an incredibly short
space of time, an immense number of cells is completed, and the Bees
store pollen, farina, or Bee-bread, (which are so many names for the same
substance) in some of those not already occupied by eggs, and in others
honey soon becomes visible: all is activity, industry, and apparently
happiness. But, to come to particulars:--
As Dr. Bevan, in the course of his _masterly_ chapter "On the
Architecture of Bees," has given an engraved representation of a piece
of honey-comb,--and as Mr. Huish also has given a somewhat similar
representation, but better than Dr. Bevan's, inasmuch as it is more
varied, and shows the royal-cells in their different stages to more
advantage, and the drone-cells likewise;--I cannot, perhaps, do the
_honey-comb_ so much justice in any way, as by presenting to my reader
a copy of Mr. Huish's piece of comb, which has been _greatly improved_
by the skilful hand of my engraver, and by giving along with it Dr.
Bevan's able description. Though after all, a piece of _real comb_, to
look at and examine, is more beautiful and far better than any engraving
possibly can be, however cleverly it may be executed: and therefore,
notwithstanding the plate, I would recommend it to my reader to procure
a piece of real honey-comb, and with it in his hand read the following
account, which is chiefly from Dr. Bevan's pen.
[Illustration]
Royal-cells in different states of forwardness, common-cells, and
drone-cells, are intended to be severally represented in this plate. The
ranges forming the upper half, and marked--a. are intended to represent
common brood-cells and honey-cells--most of them in an empty state. The
lower ranges, marked--b. are drone-cells, and are represented as closed
up, and as they appear when full of brood. Drone-cells, when filled
with brood and sealed up, present a fuller and more convex surface than
the cells containing common brood--these, that is--the cells containing
the brood that becomes working Bees, are sometimes flat and even, and
sometimes rather concave. The four large cells, attached perpendicularly
to the edge of the comb, and marked--c. d. e. f. are royal-cells in
different states of forwardness; that marked--c. is similar in size
and shape to an acorn-cup, and is supposed to be quite empty; that
marked--d. is in a more advanced state, and is supposed to contain
a royal embryo, in its _larva_ state: the royal-cell, marked--e. is
considerably lengthened, narrowed, and nearly closed, because the larva
it is supposed to contain is about to be transformed into a royal nymph,
in which stage of its existence, as it does not require the assistance of
nurses or common Bees, it is closed up entirely, as in the royal-cell,
marked--f. In this closed cell it progresses from nymph to Bee, and in
due time--that is, in about sixteen days from its being deposited as
an egg, it emerges a virgin Queen. When the temperature of a hive, or
pavilion of nature, is at a proper height--namely, between 70 and 80
degrees, sixteen days is the period nature requires for the production
of a Queen-Bee,--twenty-one for the perfection of a working Bee,--and
twenty-six for a drone Bee. But, as Dr. Bevan very justly remarks, "the
development of each species proceeds more slowly when the colonies are
weak, or the air cool,--and that when the weather is very cold it is
entirely suspended."
But to return from this short, though it is hoped, not uninteresting
digression, into which the explanation of the Queen-cells has led us.
"The combs of the Bee-hive comprise a congeries of hexagonal cells,
formed by the Bees, as receptacles for honey or for embryo Bees. A
honey-comb is allowed to be one of the most striking achievements of
insect industry, and an admirable specimen of insect architecture. It has
attracted the admiration of the contemplative philosopher in all ages,
and awakened speculation, not only in the naturalist, but also in the
mathematician: so regular, so perfect, is the structure of the cells,
that it satisfies every condition of a refined problem in geometry. Still
a review of their proceedings will lead to the conclusion, as Huber has
observed, that, "the geometrical relations, which apparently embellish
the productions of Bees, are rather the necessary result of their mode
of proceeding, than the principle by which their labour is guided." "We
must therefore conclude, that Bees, although they act geometrically,
understand neither the rules nor the principles of the arts which they
practise so skilfully, and that the geometry is not in the Bee, but in
the great Geometrician who made the Bee, and made all things in number,
weight, and measure.
"Before the time of Huber, no naturalist had seen the commencement of the
comb, nor traced the several steps of its progress. After many attempts,
he at length succeeded in attaining the desired object; by preventing
the Bees from forming their usual impenetrable curtain by suspending
themselves from the top of the hive; in short, he obliged them to build
upwards, and was thereby enabled, by means of a glass window, to watch
every variation and progressive step in the construction of a comb.
"_Each comb in a hive is composed of two ranges of cells, backed
against each other: these cells_, looking at them as a whole, may be
said to _have one common base_, though no one cell is opposed directly
to another. This base or partition, between the double row of cells,
is so disposed as to form a pyramidal cavity at the bottom of each, as
will be explained presently. _The mouths of the cells_, thus ranged on
each side of a comb, _open into two parallel streets_ (there being a
continued series of combs in every well filled hive). These streets are
sufficiently contracted, to avoid waste of room, and to preserve a proper
warmth, yet _wide enough to allow the passage of two Bees abreast_.
Apertures through different parts of the combs are reserved to form near
roads, for crossing from street to street, whereby much time is saved to
the Bees.
These in firm phalanx ply their twinkling feet,
Stretch out the ductile mass, and form the street,
With many a cross-way path and postern gate,
That shorten to their range the spreading state.
Evans.
"_Bees_, as has been already observed, _build their cells of an
hexangular form, having six equal sides_, with the exception of the first
or uppermost row, the shape of which is an irregular pentagon, the roof
of the hive forming one of the members of the pentagon.
"There are only three possible figures of the cells," says Dr. Reid,
"which can make them all equal and similar, without any useless
interstices. These are--the equilateral triangle, the square and the
regular hexagon. It is well-known to mathematicians, that there is not a
fourth way possible, in which a plane may be cut into little spaces, that
shall be equal, similar, and regular, without having any interstices." Of
these three geometrical figures, the hexagon most completely unites the
prime requisites for insect architecture. The truth of this proposition
was perceived by Pappus, an eminent Greek philosopher and mathematician,
who lived at Alexandria, in the reign of Theodosius the Great, and its
adoption by Bees, in the construction of honey-comb, was noticed by that
ancient geometrician. These requisites are:--
"First, Oeconomy of materials. There are no useless partitions in a
honey-comb, each of the six lateral panels of one cell forms also one
of the panels of an adjoining cell; and of the three rhombs which form
the pyramidal base of a cell, each contributes one third towards the
formation of the bases of three opposing cells, the bottom or centre of
every cell resting against the point of union of the panels that are at
the back of it.
"Secondly, Oeconomy of room; no interstices being left between adjoining
cells.
"Thirdly, the greatest possible capacity or internal space, consistent
with the two former desiderata.
"Fourthly, Oeconomy of materials and economy of room produce economy of
labour. And in addition to these advantages, the cells are constructed
in the strongest manner possible, considering the quantity of materials
employed. Both the sides and bases are so exquisitely thin, that three or
four placed on each other are not thicker than a leaf of common writing
paper; each cell, separately weak, is strengthened by its coincidence
with other cells, and _the entrance is fortified with an additional
ledge or border of wax_, to prevent its bursting from the struggles of
the Bee-nymph, or from the ingress and _egress_ of the labourers. This
entrance border is _at least three times as thick as the sides of the
cell_, and thicker at the angles than elsewhere, which prevents the
mouth of the cell from being regularly hexagonal, though the interior is
perfectly so.
On books deep poring, ye pale sons of toil,
Who waste in studious trance the midnight oil,
Say, can you emulate with all your rules,
Drawn, or from Grecian or from Gothic schools,
This artless frame? Instinct her simple guide,
A heaven-taught insect baffles all your pride.
Not all your marshall'd orbs that ride so high,
Proclaim more loud a present Deity,
Than the nice symmetry of these small cells,
Where on each angle genuine science dwells,
And joys to mark, through wide creation's reign,
How close the lessening links of her continued chain.
Evans.
"Having just adverted to the ingenuity of Bees in thickening, and thereby
strengthening the mouths of the cells, it may here be observed--that
_additional strength is also derived from the Bees covering the whole
surface of the combs, but more particularly the edge of the cells, with
a peculiar kind of varnish_, which they collect for the purpose. At
first the combs are delicately white, semi-transparent, and exceedingly
fragile, smooth but unpolished: in a short time their surfaces become
stronger, and assume more or less of a yellow tint. The deepening of the
colour of honey-combs has been supposed, by some, to be the effect of
age; and in part it may be: but it is principally owing to the coat of
varnish, with which the Bees cover them. This varnish strongly resembles
propolis, appearing to differ from it only in containing the colouring
material which imparts to wax its yellow hue. The source of this
colouring matter has not been discovered: it is insoluble in alcohol, but
the manufacture of white-wax shows that it is destructible by light. But
to return to the construction of the cell-work.
"_The pyramidal basis of a cell is formed by the junction of three
rhomboidal or lozenge-shaped portions of wax:_ the apex of the pyramid
being situated where the three obtuse angles of the lozenges meet. To
the exterior edges and angles are attached the six panels or sides of
each cell. The apex of each pyramidal bottom, on one side of a comb,
forms the angles of the bases of three cells on the opposite side, the
three lozenges respectively concurring in the formation of the bases of
the same cells. This will, I hope, explain what is meant by "each cell
separately weak, being strengthened by coincidence with others." The
bottom of each cell rests upon three partitions of opposite cells, from
which it receives a great accession of strength.
"As it is desirable that the reader should thoroughly comprehend this
subject, I will re-state it in other words. The partition which separates
the two opposing rows of cells, and which occupies, of course, the middle
distance between their two surfaces, is not a plane but a collection of
rhombs, there being three at the bottom of each cell: the three together
form in shape, a flattened pyramid, the basis of which is turned towards
the mouth of the cell; each cell is in form, therefore, a hexagonal
prism, terminated by a flattened trihedral pyramid, the three sides of
which pyramid are rhombs, that meet at the apex by their obtuse angles.
"The union of the lozenges in one point, in addition to the support which
it is the means of affording to the three partitions between opposing
cells, is also admirably adapted to receive the little egg and to
concentrate the heat necessary for its incubation.
"Each obtuse angle of the lozenges or rhombs forms an angle of about 110
degrees, and each acute one, an angle of about 70 degrees. Mr. Maraldi
found by mensuration that the angles of these rhombs, which compose
the base of a cell, amounted to 109 degrees and 28 seconds, and 70
degrees and 32 seconds: and the famous mathematician Koenig, pupil of
the celebrated Bernoulli, having been employed for that purpose by M.
Reaumur, has clearly shown, by the method of infinitesimals, that the
quantity of these angles, using the least possible wax, in the cell of
the same capacity, should contain 109 degrees and 26 seconds, and 70
degrees and 34 seconds. This was confirmed by the celebrated Mr. Mac
Laurin, who very justly observes, that Bees do truly construct their
cells of the best figure, and with the utmost mathematical exactness.
"The construction of several combs is generally going on at the same
time. No sooner is the foundation of one laid, with a few rows of cells
attached to it, than a second and a third are founded on each side,
parallel to the first, and so on, (if the season give encouragement to
the operations of the Bees,) till the hive is filled with their works;
the first constructed comb or combs being always in the most advanced
state, and therefore the first to be completed.
"_The design of every comb is sketched out, and the first rudiments are
laid by one single Bee._ This founder-Bee forms a block, out of a rough
mass of wax, drawn partly from its own resources, but principally from
those of other Bees, which furnish materials, in quick succession, from
the receptacles under their bellies, taking out the plates of wax with
their hind feet, and carrying them to their mouths with their fore feet,
where the wax is moistened and masticated, till it becomes soft and
ductile.
Thus filter'd through yon flutterer's folded mail,
Clings the cool'd wax, and hardens to a scale;
Swift, at the well-known call, the ready train
(For not a buz boon nature breathes in vain)
Spring to each falling flake, and bear along
Their glossy burdens to the builder throng.
Evans.
"The architect-in-chief, who lays, as it were, the first stone of this
and each successive edifice, determines the relative position of the
combs, and their distances from each other: these foundations serve as
guides for the ulterior labours of the wax-working Bees, and of those
which sculpture the cells, giving them the advantage of the margin and
angles already formed.
"The expedients resorted to by that ingenious naturalist, Huber, unfolded
the whole process. He saw each Bee extract with its hind feet one of the
plates of wax from under the scales where they were lodged, and carrying
it to the mouth in a vertical position, turn it round, so that every
part of its border was made to pass in succession, under the cutting
edge of the jaws; it was thus soon divided into very small fragments;
and a frothy liquor was poured upon it from the tongue, so as to form a
perfectly plastic mass. This liquor gave the wax a whiteness and opacity
which it did not possess originally, and at the same time renders it
tenacious and ductile. The issuing of this masticated mass from the mouth
was, no doubt, what misled Reaumur, and caused him to regard wax as
nothing more than digested pollen.
"The mass of wax, prepared by the assistants, is applied by the
architect-Bee to the roof or bottom of the hive, as the case may be;
and thus a block is raised of a semi-lenticular shape, thick at top
and tapering towards the edges. When of a sufficient size, a cell is
sculptured on one side of it, by the wax-working Bees, who relieve one
another in succession, sometimes to the number of twenty, before the
cell is completely fashioned. At the back and on each side of this first
cell, two others are sketched out and excavated. By this proceeding the
foundations of two cells are laid, the line betwixt them corresponding
with the centre of the opposite cell. As the combs extend, the first
excavations are rendered deeper and broader; and when a pyramidal base is
finished, the Bees build up walls from its edges, so as to complete what
may be called the prismatic part of the cell. Every succeeding row of
cells is formed by precisely similar steps, until there is a sufficient
scope for the simultaneous employment of many workers.
These, with sharp sickle, or with sharper tooth,
Pare each excrescence and each angle smooth,
Till now, in finish'd pride, two radiant rows
Of snow-white cells, one mutual base disclose.
Six shining panels gird each polish'd round,
The door's fine rim, with waxen fillet hound,
While walls so thin, with sister-walls comhin'd,
Weak in themselves, a sure dependence find.
Evans.
"The pyramidal bases and lateral plates are successively formed, with
surprising rapidity; the latter are lengthened as the comb proceeds, for
the original semi-lenticular form is preserved till towards the last,
when, if the hive or box be filled, the sides of all the cells receive
such additions as give them equal depth.
"_The cells intended for the drones_ are considerably larger, and more
substantial, than those for the working Bees, and, being later formed,
usually appear near the bottom of the combs. Last of all, are built the
_royal-cells_, the cradles of the infant Queens: of these there are
usually three or four, and sometimes ten or twelve, in a hive, attached
commonly to the central part, but not unfrequently to the edge or side
of the comb. Mr. Hunter says that he has seen as many as thirteen
royal-cells in a hive, and that they have very little wax in their
composition, not one third, the rest he conceives to be farina. Such is
the genuine loyalty of Bees, that the wax which they employ with so much
geometric economy, in the construction of hexagonal cells, is profusely
expended on the mansion of the royal Bee-nymph, one of these exceeding
in weight a hundred of the former. They are not interwoven with them,
but suspended perpendicularly, their sides being nearly parallel to the
mouths of the common-cells, several of which are sacrificed to support
them.
No more with wary thriftiness imprest,
They grace with lavish pomp their royal guest,
Nor heed the wasted wax, nor rifled cell,
To bid, with fretted round, th' imperial palace swell.
Evans.
"The form of these royal-cells is an oblong spheroid, tapering gradually
downwards, and having the exterior full of holes, somewhat resembling the
_rustic_ work of stone buildings. The mouth of the cell, which is always
at its bottom, remains open till the maggot is ready for transformation,
and is then closed as the others are.
"Immediately on the emergence of a ripened Queen, the lodge which she
inhabited is destroyed, and its place is supplied by a range of common
cells. The site of this range may always be traced, by that part of the
comb being thicker than the rest, and forming a kind of knot; sometimes
the upper portion of the cell itself remains, like an inverted acorn-cup,
suspended by its short peduncle.
Yet no fond dupes to slavish zeal resign'd,
They link with industry the loyal mind,
Flown is each vagrant chief. They raze the dome,
That bent oppressive o'er the fretted comb,
And on its knotted base fresh garners raise,
Where toil secure her well earn'd treasure lays.
Evans.
"In this mutilated state only, and not in the breeding-season, could Mr.
Hunter have seen this cradle of royalty; for he describes it as the half
of an oval, too wide and shallow to receive its supposed tenant.
"I have spoken of the perfect regularity in the cell-work of a
honey-comb;--particular circumstances, however, induce a departure from
this exactness: for instance, where Bees have commenced a comb with
small cell-work, and afterwards wish to attach to it a set of large
cells, as in the case of drone-cells being required to be appended to
workers'-cells. These deviations from the usual regularity renew our
admiration of Bee-ingenuity, though Reaumur and Bonnet have regarded them
as examples of imperfection. They effect their object by interposing
three or four series of, what may be called, _cells of transition_, the
bottom or bases of which are composed of two rhombs and two hexagons,
instead of three rhombs; the rhombs and hexagons gradually varying in
form and relative proportion, till the requisite size, namely, that of
the cells which they are approaching, has been attained.
"The same gradation is observed when returning to smaller cells. Every
apparent irregularity is therefore determined by a sufficient motive, and
forms no impeachment of the sagacity of the Bee.
"The common breeding-cells of drones or workers are occasionally (after
being cleaned) made the depositories of honey; but the cells are never
made so clean, as to preserve the honey undeteriorated. The finest honey
is stored in new cells, constructed for the purpose of receiving it,
their configuration resembling precisely the common breeding-cells: these
_honey-cells vary in size_, being made more or less capacious, _according
to the productiveness of the sources from which the Bees are collecting,
and according to the season of the year:_ the cells formed in July and
August vary in their dimensions from those that are formed earlier; being
intended for honey only, they are larger and deeper, the texture of
their walls is thinner, and they have more dip or inclination; this dip
diminishes the risk of the honey's running out, which, from the heat of
the weather, and the consequent thinness of the honey, at this season of
the year, it might otherwise be liable to do. _When the cells_, intended
for holding the winter's provision, _are filled, they are always closed
with waxen lids_, and never re-opened till the whole of the honey in the
unfilled cells has been expended. The waxen lids are thus formed;--the
first Bees construct a ring of wax within the verge of the cell, to which
other rings are successively added, till the aperture of the cell is
finally closed with a lid composed of concentric circles.
"The brood-cells, when their tenants have attained a certain age, are
also covered with waxen lids, like the honey-cells; the lids differ a
little, the latter being somewhat concave, the former convex. _The depth
of the brood-cells_ of drones and working Bees is about half an inch;
_their diameter_ is more exact, that of the drone-cells being three
lines[J] and one third, that of the workers two lines and three fifths.
These, says Reaumur, are the invariable dimensions of all the cells, that
ever were, or ever will be made.
[Footnote J: A line is the twelfth part of an inch.]
"From this uniform, unvarying diameter of the brood-cells, when
completed, their use has been suggested, as an universal standard of
measure, which would be understood, in all countries, to the end of time."
While heav'n-born instinct bound their measured view,
From age to age, from Zembla to Peru,
Their snow-white cells, the order'd artists frame,
In size, in form, in symmetry, the same.
Evans.
BEES' WAX.
BEES' WAX, in its strictest sense, _is a secretion from the body of the
Honey-Bee_, and is that peculiar substance or material with which Bees
principally construct their combs;--I say--_principally_, because the
foundation of every comb is _propolis:_ it is by this tenacious substance
(propolis) that combs are securely attached to, and suspended from, the
roof of a hive or a box,--and it is by this that they are firmly glued to
the sides, wherever they are made to touch them.
BEES' WAX, however, in the common acceptation of the term, is that
well-known, valuable article, obtained from honey-comb by the following
process:--
Having _drained_ all the honey from the combs, put them into a clean pot,
together with as much rain-water as will make them float; then simmer
over a clear fire until the combs be completely dissolved; and the wax
and the dross mixed with it will swim at the top of the water. Pour the
whole into a strong and tolerably fine canvas bag, made wide at the top
and tapering downwards to a point, in the form of a jelly bag. Hold this
over a tub or large vessel in which is a quantity of cold water. The
boiling water will, of course, soon drain through, and leave in the bag
the greater part of the liquefied wax commingled with dross. Have ready
then a piece of smooth board of such a length that, when one end of it
is placed in the tub of cold water, the other end may be conveniently
rested against, and securely stayed by your breast. Upon this inclined
plane lay your dripping, reeking strainer, and keep it from slipping into
the cold water by bringing its upper part over the top of the board so
as to be held firmly between it and your breast. If the strainer be made
with a broad hem round its top, a piece of strong tape or cord passed
through such hem will draw it close, and should be long enough to form
a stirrup for the foot, by which an additional power will be gained
of keeping the scalding-hot strainer in its proper place on the board:
then by compressing the bag, or rather its contents, with any convenient
roller, the wax will ooze through and run down the board into the cold
water, on the surface of which it will set in thin flakes. When this
part of the operation is finished, collect the wax, put it into a clean
saucepan, in which is a little water to keep the wax from being burnt to
the bottom; melt it _carefully_ (for, should it be neglected and suffered
to boil over, serious mischief might ensue, liquid wax being of a very
inflammable nature) therefore melt it _carefully over a slow fire_, and
skim off the dross as it rises to the top; then pour it into such moulds
or shapes as your fancy may direct, having first well rinsed them, in
order that you may be able to get the wax, when cold and solid, out of
them without breaking either the moulds or the wax: place them, covered
over with cloths or with pieces of board, where the wax will cool slowly;
because the more slowly it cools the more solid it will be and free from
flaws and cracks. You will thus have your wax in cakes, which may be
rendered still more pure by a second melting and moulding. If run into
very thin cakes, and afterwards exposed to the influence of the sun and
the air, frequently turned, and occasionally wetted, it will lose its
yellowness, and become beautifully white. This last process is called
_bleaching_; and, though more simple and practicable than that pursued
in establishments where large quantities of wax are bleached--where
bleaching wax is of itself a regular business--it may probably be
sufficient to answer all the purposes for which _white-wax_ is wanted in
private families. I have by me wax of my own bleaching that is equal in
whiteness and delicacy to any I have ever met with.
Good wax is a heavy, solid substance, of a deep yellow colour, has an
agreeable, balsamic odour, and possesses several medicinal and other
valuable qualities.
Combs that have never been filled, and those that have been filled with
honey only, afford the best wax. Of the former kind but very little need
ever be taken from Bees in collateral-boxes; and when any such combs are
taken, they may be far more advantageously disposed of than by being
melted down for the wax they contain.
Instead of crushing and melting all the combs of three or four hives
together, as is mostly done by cottage Bee-keepers, the fine, clean
parts should be separated from those that are discoloured, less pure,
and inferior, by reason of their age,--of having been brood combs,--or
of containing pollen, and should be melted first. By this very easy mode
of manipulation, the quantity of wax would not be lessened, and the
superior quality of the fine would command a price that would be an ample
remuneration for the additional trouble attending the management of it in
this way.
Should the preceding directions be thought to be tediously or
unnecessarily minute, my apology for making them so is--an anxious
wish on my part to render every thing relating to Bees clearly
understood--understood so as to be set about and properly managed by
persons who never before bestowed one thought upon the subject.
CHAPTER XVI I.
WINTER SITUATION FOR BEES.
There is no part of Bee-management more utterly disregarded by
cottage-hive Bee-keepers than that which relates to a proper situation
for store-hives during winter. From whatever cause this inattention may
proceed,--whether from custom, ignorance, or prejudice, it is much to
be regretted; because nothing is so essentially conducive to the future
prosperity, and often to the very preservation, of a colony, as due
attention to its winter situation. Left, as stock-hives commonly are, in
their summer aspect, and to stand upon the very spot they have occupied
ever since the day of their existence as stocks,--with their entrances
wide open, just as they were in summer,--exposed alike to every change of
weather and to every attack of prowling enemies; or, if covered at all,
it is mostly with a rude coat of straw, or reed, or such material as
affords to mice, vermine, and various sorts of Bee-enemies, shelter and
concealment, and, in fact, encouragement to attack and destroy the hives.
Thus, neglected and unheeded, it is no wonder that so many stocks of Bees
perish in the winter and spring of every year; the wonder rather is that
any should escape.
Some apiarian authors are opposed to the confinement of Bees in their
hives, except when snow is on the ground: _then_, and _then only_, they
recommend the confinement of Bees as necessary for their safety. Now,
I would respectfully ask--if, in the North of England and in Scotland,
snow does not lie on the ground for weeks, and in some years for months
together? and I would ask further--if Bees can bear this confinement
with snow on the ground, why they cannot bear it when there is no snow?
They argue, however, in the face of this admission, that confinement
is injurious to Bees, and that a flight in the open air on a fine
day, if there should happen to be a fine day, in the depth of winter,
is beneficial to Bees, otherwise, they say, the Bees would not take
it. A mild, open winter, every body knows, renders unconfined Bees
poor--and when kept in a state of perpetual agitation and alarm by the
restless enemies that surround them and nestle in their straw covering,
and tempted by the faint, wintery sun-beams that gleam upon their
floor-board through the unclosed entrance of their hives, they will,
no doubt, sometimes sally forth. But what is the consequence? Hundreds
and thousands of them become paralyzed[K] and never return; and those
that do get home again have occasion for food: of course, the oftener
these winter flights take place, the more the population of the hives
they issue from is diminished, and the more pauperized that diminished
population becomes in consequence of such flights: whereas, if Bees
were confined, kept in darkness, or, at any rate, out of the influence
of the sun, kept dry, cool, still, and undisturbed, no such disastrous
consequences would ensue.
[Footnote K: In the 15th page of his "Apiarian's Guide," J. H. Payne,
Esq. says--"a Bee becomes torpid at a temperature of thirty-two
degrees"--Payne is an experienced apiarian. What credit then is due to
the anonymous critic, who in one of the weekly periodicals[L] has told us
that "Bees in a glass hive, exposed in the open air, when its temperature
was twenty degrees below freezing, instead of being in a state of of
torpor, continued very lively?!!"--Before yielding implicit credence to
this statement, it would be exceedingly satisfactory to be informed _how
long_ the Bees so exposed continued very lively.]
[Footnote L: _Mechanics' Magazine_, No. 564, p. 155.]
The following detail will show my readers the results of some
experiments, relative to the aspect and situation of Bee-hives during
winter; and whilst in some degree they corroborate the foregoing
observations, they may perhaps induce those, who are anxious for the
prosperity of their Bees, to submit to be taught a useful lesson
respecting the winter management of them.
In 1824 I had six cottage-hives, which had prospered well with me during
the summer of that year. In the autumn of the same year I resolved to
weigh those six hives, and to place three of them on the north side of
my house, and to let the other three remain in their summer situation.
The separate weights of my hives, in November of the year 1824, were as
under, viz.
No. 1. 35 lbs. No. 4. 42 lbs.
2. 38 -- 5. 32 --
3. 40 -- 6. 37 --
--- ---
113 111
--- ---
The first three of these Nos. viz. 1, 2, and 3, weighing together 113
lbs. remained during the winter in their summer situation: Nos. 4, 5,
and 6, weighing together 111 lbs. were removed to a cold dry place, on
the north side of my house. On the 26th of March, 1825, I again weighed
those six hives, and found their respective weights to be as follows, viz.
No. 1. 15 lbs. No. 4. 37 lbs.
2. 16 -- 5. 27 --
3. 19 -- 6. 32 --
-- --
50 96
-- --
So that the three hives, remaining in their summer quarters during the
winter, had decreased in weight just 63 lbs. being on an average 21 lbs.
each; while the three which had wintered on the north side of my house
had decreased only 15 lbs. being on an average only 5 lbs. each. This
gives an average difference of 16 lbs. a hive, between a proper and an
improper winter situation and aspect for Bees. It is lamentable to think
how many people lose their Bees, either from ignorance, prejudice, or
want of attention to this particular point--_a proper winter situation_.
I need scarcely relate to my readers, that the Bees which were placed
fronting, or open to the north, were the first that swarmed the next
spring. They swarmed in the month of May; while those hives that had
remained fronting, or open to the south, did not swarm until July; and
one hive (No. 2.) never swarmed at all during the season. At the latter
end of October, 1825, I again weighed my hives, and found them to be as
under:--
No. 1. 28 lbs. Swarm from ditto 10 lbs.
2. 22 --
3. 30 -- Swarm from ditto 14 --
-- --
80 24
-- --
No. 4. 44 lbs. Swarm from ditto 32 lbs.
5. 43 -- Swarm from ditto 28 --
6. 41 -- Swarm from ditto 30 --
--- --
128 90
--- --
Hence it appears that the three hives (Nos. 1, 2, and 3) that had never
been removed from their summer stands, were 33 lbs. lighter than when I
first weighed them, that is, on an average, 11 lbs. a hive; and even with
the weight of their two swarms added to them, there was a falling off in
the year of 9 lbs. or, on an average, of 3 lbs, a hive: whilst Nos. 4,
5, and 6, had gained 17 lbs. or, on an average, nearly 6 lbs. each; and
with the weight of their swarms added to them, they had gained 107 lbs.
or, on an average, nearly 36 lbs. a hive in the year.
I could carry this subject much further in my explanations, as I did in
my experiments, but it requires no facts in addition to those just stated
to explain the difference of aspect in the winter-season to Bees.
Every cottager must know that the richer his Bees are in spring, the
sooner they will swarm. Then, to make them rich, he must not neglect to
place his hives out of the influence of the sun during winter,--_in a
dry, cold, and quiet situation_. He will find by this practice, that not
more than five or six pounds of honey will be consumed by a good stock;
but if he suffer his Bees to remain fronting the south, they will in a
mild winter, if they survive it at all, become paupers before spring.
Now what is proper during the winter for stocks in common hives, is
equally proper for stocks in collateral-boxes, of which the middle-box
is the winter-pavilion or stock-hive. Long before winter all the Bees of
the most populous stock will draw into the middle-box and cluster round
their Queen; and when that is the case, the dividing-tins should be put
down, in order that all the Bees may be securely kept in the pavilion;
and previously to removing them from their summer situation, the entrance
should be carefully closed with a piece of wire-cloth, or perforated tin;
which, whilst it admits fresh air into the box, will keep the Bees within
and all their enemies without. It is hardly possible for the smallest
enemy to make its way into a box thus secured. A perforated tin may also
be put over the way down into the drawer. Towards spring this last may
be withdrawn, and the Bees, when they begin to revive, will soon rid
themselves of those that may have died in the winter, by carrying them
down into the drawer. Having made every necessary preparation, remove
your stocks to such a situation as that herein before recommended, and
there in quietude let them pass the dreary months of winter. I do not
advise that they be taken too early to, nor that they remain too long
in, their hibernacula: generally speaking, they may be removed towards
the latter end of November, and again in the third or fourth week of
February; but the Bees themselves, if duly observed, will be the best
directors.
This is _my_ practice, and it is also the practice of my apiarian friend
at Gedney-Hill, than whose, no stocks in this neighbourhood are more
healthy or much more prosperous.
CHAPTER XVIII.
APIARIAN SOCIETIES.
The encouragement of any internal branch of industry, which
will supersede the necessity for the employment of British capital
in speculative adventures where no equivalent is returned, is in the
mind of every patriot a subject worthy of consideration. And that
the prosecution and encouragement of my system of Bee-management,
undertaken by those who are qualified by their means, abilities, and
powers of patronage, to set the example, and thereby influence others,
will effect this to a considerable extent, as far as the production of
honey and wax is concerned, will, I think, be sufficiently obvious to
those who have witnessed, or who hereafter may witness, the successful
results--the almost incredible quantity of these productions from my
apiary alone; or, leaving my apiary entirely out of the account, I will
venture modestly to assert, _that from any one set of collateral-boxes,
well-stocked and well-managed, the quantity and quality of honey that
may be annually taken, without either destroying or impoverishing
the Bees, must be seen to be believed; and being seen, will not be
disputed_. The exact amount annually paid to other countries for these
two commodities--honey and wax--I have not the means of ascertaining
with accuracy, but it is probable that it exceeds £350,000.--a sum
lost to this country, because, not only have we in the vegetable world
a profusion of these productions, that "waste their sweetness on the
desert air," but we have, or might have, if we would but encourage
them, the labourers necessary to collect them, and this too without the
deterioration of any other department of rural economy. Were Bee-colonies
multiplied to any thing like the number that the Bee-pasturage of
this country would support; were there, for instance, but one set of
well-stocked collateral-boxes on every square mile of England, Wales,
and Scotland,--or, to compute moderately, on every square mile of every
rural district of Great Britain, that is fertile in Bee-pasturage,--and
were the price of the finest box-honey reduced to a shilling a pound,
the annual _surplus_ produce of these colonies would realize a sum far
exceeding £350,000. which would be put into the pockets of, generally
speaking, an industrious and deserving part of the community--the rural
population, and a profitable remuneration given to them for their
indulgence and perseverance in a most rational pursuit, requiring but
trifling, and this only incidental attention. I know of no time more
proper for throwing out these hints than the present, when the subject of
_rural allotments_ excites, and that justly, almost universal attention
amongst those desirous of securing an industrious, prosperous, and
virtuous peasantry.
I do not presume to imagine that, antiquated as are the practices
hitherto so generally adopted, and so pertinaciously adhered to in
Bee-management in this country, and characterized as are these practices
by so many superstitious and irrational usages--I do not presume to
imagine that my system will, at once, up-root prejudices, dispel
superstitions, and be immediately and heartily adopted by the cottager.
The generality of apiarians have yet to be taught that _Bee-management is
a system;_--that it is something more than merely stocking a hive or box
with a swarm of Bees, and then leaving it to chance alone to prosper or
to perish; and, if to prosper, it is only until the time for its final
doom--the reckless destruction of every Bee--arrives. They have yet to
learn that the whole, or at least, the greater part of the contingencies,
to which Bee-colonies are subject, may be averted; that the casualties
of Bees are analogous to those of other descriptions of stock; and that,
if they would ensure success, or expect to derive profit from them, it
must be by attention to their domicils, to their protection from the
variations of climate and atmosphere, and from external enemies,--in
short, by proper management. If in many instances, the success of my
hives has been so unqualified and extensive, it has been because the
necessity for careful management has been impressed and adhered to,
and because Bees, in whose welfare their owners had been previously
uninterested, have been looked upon with some degree of attention, and
their labours facilitated and requited by timely administering to their
wants and comforts. In the same way, I believe, that by attention to the
observations contained in these pages, the cottagers' labours may be more
amply repaid, and that more honey may be obtained, even by their rough
practices; whilst this will be preparing them for the adoption of my
improved plans and gradually pave the way for its general introduction.
For this I more particularly refer to the preceding chapter, and to that
on Bee-feeding, i. e. chapters XIV. and XVII.
It has often been suggested to me, to point out _how_ the culture
of Honey-Bees might be more generally extended in this country, and
rendered more advantageous to the cottager than it has been hitherto.
As regards the extension of Bee-cultivation, I would observe, that if
those gentlemen, especially those gentlemen resident in the country, who
possess affluence, influence, and leisure, would undertake to promote
it--would set the example and keep Bees, their example alone would go
far to induce the cottager to keep them; and that, as other countries
boast, and that so usefully, their apiarian societies, the formation
of such a society, or societies, could not fail to be attended with
beneficial effects. Some feeble attempts, it is true, to establish such
a society have been made, but have proved abortive, whilst premiums on
the subject have been offered by other societies,[M] injudiciously, as
they have tended to perpetuate mistaken views, and to retard the progress
of more correct ones. I am not insensible of the extreme benefit which
has resulted to the different branches of industry, and to agriculture
and horticulture in particular, by well-regulated scales of premiums,
emulating to superiority and necessarily promoting a beneficial stimulus
in the different branches with which they are connected. And, in my
opinion, nothing would more easily tend to the inculcation of sounder
views of practice, than, if gentlemen, pursuing my principles, would
interest themselves in connecting with the objects of such associations
more generally, graduated scales of prizes, regulated by the quantity of
honey obtained from stocks, the prosperity of the hives afterwards, and
the state of the apiary generally, &c. Were they also to countenance the
plan of placing colonies under the care of labouring cottagers, giving
them premiums as an inducement to careful management, they could not
fail of conferring a benefit, by initiating them into the plans of the
system, as well as by more advantageously dividing the pasture of the
district among the different hives, and thereby rendering the labour of
their collecting the stores considerably less to the Bees. This would,
undoubtedly, effect much, but I know of no means so decidedly calculated
to foster and encourage the culture of Honey-Bees among all classes, and
more particularly among the population of rural districts, as apiarian
societies, formed for the express purpose of extending and improving the
cultivation and management of Honey-Bees.
[Footnote M: A premium was last year (1833) awarded by the Cambridgeshire
Horticultural Society, to a Mr. Widnal, for his exhibition of a glass of
honey. But whether the encouragement of Bee-culture be an object of that
very respectable society,--or whether the reward given to Mr. Widnal on
that occasion was a sort of bye-premium, bestowed for the gratification
of seeing a curiosity, it did not appear.]
CHAPTER XIX.
MISCELLANEOUS DIRECTIONS.
In undertaking this work, as I originally did, at the pressing
solicitations of several of those Noblemen and Gentlemen, whose names
graced the list of the subscribers for the first edition, I had two main
objects in view; of which a full and particular explanation of the mode
of managing Honey-Bees, in my boxes and upon my principles, was one,--and
the other, which I do ardently hope will result from the adoption and
encouragement of my long-tried plan, is--the prospective improvement,
not only of the culture and condition of those ingenious, admired, and
most interesting little creatures, but also of honey and wax--the two
valuable articles which Bees, and Bees alone, afford us. To prepare
the way for the accomplishment of the latter of these objects, I have
exerted my best endeavours--I have spared neither pains nor expense,
to give minute, and, I trust, intelligible descriptions of all my boxes
and hives, of my Bee-machinery, and of every thing thereto pertaining;
which descriptions have been accompanied with such practical directions
and relations of experiments, as will, _if duly attended to_, enable my
Bee-friends to put their apiaries upon my _humane and profitable system
of management_. Therefore I do not think it is incumbent upon me to
proceed farther at present. I might easily double the size of my book,
by entering into and giving lengthy details of several matters relative
to Bees, which are not here so much as hinted at; such, for instance, as
the distance that they sometimes fly from their hives in quest of honey,
and the experiments that have been made to determine that distance;--the
nature of honey-dew, and how it is occasioned,--why it abounds on some
trees and plants, whilst others are entirely destitute of it,--whether
it be a natural exudation of the plants that afford it,--or whether it
be produced by the leaf-lice, called aphides;--why, if the impregnation
of a Virgin-Queen be retarded beyond a certain number of days after her
coming into existence, all the eggs she lays during her whole life,
should invariably produce _drones;_--the language of Bees, for Bees,
it has been held, have their peculiar language, though I profess not
to understand it, nor even to have studied it, my business being with
their _habits;_--the various diseases or maladies with which skilful
men assure us they are occasionally affected;--their senses, their
anatomy, and their instinct;--their affinity to the wasp;--exotic Bees
from those of Lapland to those of China; and from those of Siberia to
those of the Cape of Good Hope;--the stingless Bees of South America,
mentioned by Dr. Hancock, that from the luxuriant ever-blooming,
tropical plants and flowers, produce black wax;[N] what Aristotle hath
remarked on one subject,--what Pliny hath said on another,--what classic
Virgil hath so delightfully sung of the nature, economy, and management
of Bees in Italy,--what Gelieu in modest prose hath said of Bees in
Switzerland,--Huber and Reaumur in France, and a host of writers in
Germany, and in our own native England; what opposite opinions have
been entertained respecting honey; whether plants and flowers secrete
pure honey, or whether the saccharine matter culled from them undergoes
any percolating, rectifying, chemical process in the stomach of the
Bee.--I might observe, that the illustrious Hunter was of opinion that
it undergoes no change; although the no less illustrious naturalist
Reaumur, and the entomologists Kirby and Spence, imagine that some
change does take place before the honey is stored in the cells,--that,
as the nectarious exudation of plants is not of the same consistence as
honey from the hives, it is reasonable to suppose that it undergoes some
change _in transitu_ whilst in the body of the Bee; that, as far as my
experience has enabled me to make observations on this subject, I am
disposed to lean to the opinion of Reaumur, Kirby, and Spence, and to
ascribe the difference between honey in the nectarium of a flower or on
the leaf of a tree, and honey in the cells of a comb, to the absorption
of the volatile parts of the saccharine of the plants and flowers
whilst in the honey-bag; which absorption is aided and accelerated by
the natural heat of the Bee, and by which process honey is rendered of
uniform consistence, in the graphic language of my chemical friend--Mr.
Booth--I might exclaim, "How necessarily do the least valued products in
the economy of nature, eliminated in the most miniature laboratory of her
operations, confirm us in the belief of the existence, wisdom, and power
of nature's God--the Great Chemist--who has not only imbued matter to act
upon its fellow matter in the infinity of space, to produce an infinite
diversity of changes in the material world; but, within the small compass
of a Bee, has provided apparatus for certain changes to take place,
which are more elaborate, important, and complicated, than are produced
in the largest apparatus of the manufacturer! In this little insect
are performed all those chemical processes of life, by which nature is
kept in the equanimity and beauty of existence--here composition and
decomposition, solution and precipitation, sublimation, volatilization,
distillation, and absorption, through the agency of heat and attraction,
take place on the minutest matters, secreted by the plants and collected
by the Bees; and in the hive, by the concentration of their individual
efforts, is elaborated that immense quantity of those important products,
which constitute such useful commodities in the arts and economy of life."
[Footnote N: See page 11, antea.]
The discussion of some of these topics, and dissertations on others,
might be made amusing, perhaps interesting, and would, at all events,
swell the size of my book; but whether I should thereby enhance its
intrinsic merits (if intrinsic merit it possess) is more than I dare
venture to affirm. In short, these topics come not within my plan,--they
are foreign to it, and I gladly leave them to be treated of by others,
whose learning is mare able to cope with them, and whose taste may
direct them to such subjects. _I have withheld nothing that I deem to
be essentially necessary to the thorough understanding of my mode of
Bee-management;_ consequently, I anticipate that my two main objects
will eventually be attained--that Bee-culture will become a pleasing
and a profitable study--a source of instructive amusement and of profit
too,--and that our country will, at no great distance of time, be
everywhere studded and ornamented with neat, well-ordered apiaries. I
will, therefore, now close my present labours with a few miscellaneous
directions, chiefly recapitulatory, which, on account of their
importance, every apiarian should constantly bear in mind.
Have your Bee-boxes _well-made_, and _of good substantial materials_.
Strength and durability are of greater consequence than neatness,
though that need not be neglected--neatness and strength are not
incompatible--they may be combined.
Paint your boxes annually, when they are in their winter situation.
Make a clear ground or floor-way from the pavilion into each of the
end-boxes, by cutting away about two inches from the lower edge of each
of the corresponding ends, to the depth of half an inch; and make this
way or passage as near the front-entrance as it conveniently may be. This
convenience has been suggested to me _since_ the directions for making
collateral-boxes were printed, and I therefore mention it here as an
improvement, because such a way on the floor, and _without any climbing_,
will afford an additional accommodation to Bees on many occasions.
Boxes will not work Bees, neither will Bees work boxes to advantage,
unless due attention be paid to them--i. e. both to boxes and to Bees.
Situation is of prime importance: for summer it should be clear and open
in front of your boxes, and sheltered at their back by a north-wall or by
a thick hedge.
In summer let their aspect be south-east:--early in spring, and again in
autumn, due south is the best point to be in front: therefore, as spring
advances turn the front of your boxes eastward, and as summer declines
move them back again to their spring aspect; or, in other words, when
there is not more than twelve hours' sun, let the front of your boxes be
due south; and during the time that the sun is more than twelve hours
above the horizon, let it be south-east.
Always have the cheerful rays of the morning sun fall upon your boxes:
but contrive to throw a shade upon their front for a few hours in the
middle of the day, when the weather is very hot. Such a shade will be
grateful to your Bees.
Elevate your boxes twenty inches or two feet above the ground: and always
keep the grass or ground, under and near them, neat and clean, and
entirely free from all nuisances.
A constant supply of water in the immediate vicinity of your apiary
is highly desirable; if therefore you have not a natural supply of
that element, _so necessary for Bees_, contrive to let them have it
by artificial means--by placing it in or near your apiary, in large,
shallow dishes, or in wooden troughs, partially covering the surface with
reed or moss, and be careful to replenish them, so that your Bees may
always find it there.
Suffer not ants to burrow near your Bees. Ants are enemies to Bees, and
will annoy them, if they get among them.
Spiders also are Bee-destroyers; therefore, brush away their entangling
webs, whenever and wherever you find them about your boxes.
Fowls should not be permitted in an apiary.
Early in spring let the entrance be not more than an inch, and increase
it gradually to its full extent, as you find occasion: contract it again
towards the fall of the year; and, if the moths be troublesome in summer
evenings, nearly close it every evening; but take care to open it again
either early next morning, or as soon as the evening flight of the moths
is over. This attention is more particularly due to weak stocks, and
affords them great protection against the attacks of moths, which are
among the boldest, the most persevering, and, when once they have got
into a hive, most destructive enemies to Bees.
Destroy wasps and wasps' nests wherever you find them in the vicinity
of your apiary. The destruction of queen-wasps in spring is the
most effectual method of diminishing the number of these formidable
Bee-enemies; because the destruction of a queen-wasp in spring is
tantamount to the destruction of a whole nest afterwards.
Light in the domicil of Bees, if not actually prejudicial to them, is, at
any rate, displeasing to them; therefore, be careful never to expose your
Bees unnecessarily to its glare: never leave the window-doors open, nor
suffer careless visitors to do so.
My ingenious friend, the Rev. T. Clark, of Gedney-Hill, suggests the
propriety of recommending that the window-doors be _self-shutting doors_.
This, he says, may be done by fixing upon each door a light, easy
spring, similar to those made use of to shut doors in good houses; or
by a cord attached to each door, and passed through an eye, and over a
small pulley fixed to the side of each box; from the end of which cord
a weight of two or three ounces must be suspended. This weight, acting
upon the cord, will draw the little doors to the windows, that is, it
will shut them. The cords, eyes, and pulleys, he further says, may be so
arranged, that one small weight will keep all the hive doors, in a set
of collateral-boxes, closed and safe, and may be made to hang under the
floor. I have no hesitation in recommending his suggestion as ingenious,
practicable, and useful. The best security, however, after all, is that
afforded by lock and key, the key being in the constant possession of the
owner.
Ventilate your collateral-boxes and bell-glasses, when the interior
temperature is at, or above, 70 degrees.
Never irritate your Bees, nor offer any sort of violence or opposition to
them; and should an angry Bee or two at any time attack you, walk quietly
away, and leave them to settle into peace again.
On no account drive your Bees; it is a ruinous practice. With boxes,
however, I trust, it is impracticable, and totally superseded.
Never disturb, nor in any way interfere with, the middle-box.
_On no account destroy any of your Bees:_ independently of its cruelty,
it is an impolitic practice: it is like cutting down a tree to get at its
fruit, which may easily be gathered by less laborious and indestructive
means. Encourage your Bees,--accommodate them,--support them,--and _by
all means preserve them_; and, when seasons are favourable, they will
_richly_ reward you for your attention to them.
Always keep a cottage-hive, or single box or two, in your apiary, for the
purpose of having swarms from them, with which to stock empty boxes, or
to strengthen such stocks as may stand in need of additional numbers; and
proceed with such supplementary swarms as directed in pages 42-45.
Never impoverish your Bees by taking from them more honey than they have
to spare. Always suffer them to be in possession of a plentiful store.
Over-deprivation distresses them, and is no gain to the proprietor. Among
other reasons this is one for my repeated directions--not to touch the
middle-box.
Honey of the very finest quality may commonly be obtained from
collateral-boxes, as early in the season as the months of May and
June, without injuring the parent-stock in the slightest degree. The
enlargement of their domicil by returning an empty glass, or an empty
box, to the place from which a full one has been taken, is at this busy
period of their labour an accommodation to Bees, and is one great means
of preventing the necessity for their swarming, as it enables them to
continue their work at the time that there is the greatest abundance of
treasure for them in the fields, and when Bees in cottage-hives cannot
profit by it, owing to their want, not of inclination to gather it, but
of room in their hive to store it; they therefore swarm once, twice,
perhaps three times. What then can be afterwards expected from such
exhausted stocks but weakness and poverty? The more numerous the working
Bees are in any colony, the more honey they will collect, _provided they
have room wherein to store it_. Accommodate them, then, with convenient
store-room, and the more workers you have in your boxes the better. Up to
the middle of August you may, with safety, that is, without injury to the
Bees, take off glasses and boxes, as they become ready. _After that time_
it is advisable to have, and to leave, in every colony, honey sufficient
for the subsistence of the Bees until next spring; and should you take
off a full box, later in the season than the middle of August, instead of
emptying it of all its treasure, be content with a part of it,--take a
part, and _return a part--share it with your Bees, and let their share be
a liberal one_. As has been already enjoined--_on no account impoverish
them by over-deprivation_, at that precarious season especially. They
possibly may collect much honey after that time; if so, share with them
again; if not, have them rich from your first bounty.
When a box, well-stored with honey, is taken off, it is not an easy
matter to extract the first comb or two, without breaking them and
spoiling their beauty, besides shedding more or less of the honey;
therefore, be prepared with proper knives. Any common knife that has a
blade long enough, may serve to sever the combs from the sides of a box:
but, to cut them from the top, it is advisable to have an instrument,
which may be called a Bee-knife, of the following construction:--a
two-edged, lancet-shaped blade, two inches long and three-eighths of an
inch broad, having the hole, through which the rivet would pass to fix
it in a haft, drilled large enough to admit the end of a steel rod, upon
which it is to be well brazed or riveted: the other end of this rod may
be finished with a neat handle, leaving its clear length between the
contrate blade and the handle eleven inches--that being rather more than
the depth of my Bee-boxes. A knife of this description may easily be
passed between the combs, and is very convenient for cutting them from
the top of a box.
Whenever you have occasion to perform any operation among your Bees, be
provided with every requisite material, implement, &c. Have not any thing
to seek for, much less to get made, at the moment it is wanted: _that
moment may perhaps be a critical one_.
In September unite the Bees of poor stocks to rich ones; and now, or in
March, transfer stocks from straw-hives into boxes.
Previously to withdrawing the tin-divider, for the purpose of opening
the communication into an end-box, take off the end-box and dress its
inside with a little liquid honey; this will bring the Bees into it,
when, but for the honey, they would perhaps refuse to enter it; and at
that time close the ventilation. It is wrong to ventilate empty boxes,
because it drives the Bees into the pavilion: and it is a fact, that
they will swarm from the pavilion, rather than take possession of an
empty end-box, if its temperature be, and be kept, disagreeably cold,
by having the ventilation open at the very time it should be carefully
closed. This will both explain and remedy the difficulty, that some
apiarians complain of having experienced, in getting their Bees to take
possession of an empty box; it will also account for swarms sometimes
leaving the pavilion when there is no want of room: the fact is--that the
temperature of _that room_ is not agreeable to them: but it is owing to
the mismanagement of the apiator that it is otherwise than agreeable.
Whenever a box is taken off, be careful to open the perforations in the
cylinder-ventilator, many of which will be found sealed up with propolis.
These perforations may be cleared at any time, by introducing a piece of
wire with a sharpened point, turned so as to pick out the propolis; but
they are most effectually opened when a box is off.
Towards the latter end of November, or earlier, if the weather be
inclement and severe, remove your Bee-boxes to their winter situation:
this should be _dry, quiet, cool_, and _dark_, and place your boxes in it
so that they may front towards the north or north-east.
Guard and close the entrance with a piece of fine wire-cloth, of
Lariviere's patent tin, or of perforated zinc, (which is the best, on
account of its not corroding) made fast to the box, either of which
will confine the Bees within their domicil, admit plenty of fresh air,
and keep out inimical intruders. Thus prepared for winter, having every
tin and block in its proper place, _disturb your Bees as little as
possible_, and, come winter as it may, they will pass it in that state
of semi-insensibility, or torpor, which nature, or with reverence let me
rather say--nature's God has appointed for them.
Towards the end of February, or as soon as vegetation begins to make its
appearance, take your boxes from their winter to their summer stands,
and commence another course of attentions, observations, and humane
management, similar to that herein directed and explained. And, though
cases may arise, and difficulties occur in the course of your practice,
for the remedying of which no specific directions are, or can be, here
given, your own experience and progressive improvement in the pleasing
science of Bee-management, will lead you to adopt the proper mode of
treating the former, and the proper means for surmounting the latter.
THE END.
H. AND J. LEACH, PRINTERS, WISBECH.
* * * * *
Transcriber Note
Minor typographical errors have been corrected. Hyphenation standardized
to most utilized form herein.