The toad is a lazy, ugly-looking enemy of the bee. His capabilities,
however, are not equal to his will and wants. He squats under the bee
landing-board, and seizes every too heavily laden or wing-weary labourer
that accidentally drops. This is really very cruel. The bee that has
finished the longest journey, and gone through the hardest work, and borne
the heat and brunt of the hot, long summer day, takes a rest on a leaf
just before entering the hive, or comes short of the door of his home by
an inch, and is seized by the unclean monster and devoured. The only way
of getting rid of this unfeeling destroyer, who sits "seeking whom he may
devour," is to pay a visit to your hives soon after sunrise and an hour
before sunset; and on finding him on his wicked watch, seize him by the
hind leg and throw him to as great a distance across your hedge as you
well can. But if the "bee-master" be a lady--if I may use the phrase--let
her empty on him a snuff-box full of strong snuff, and he will reflect a
few days before he returns to his old quarters. I give this prescription
to ladies, because they do not like to seize the cold-blooded creature and
fling him to a respectable distance. How favoured our Irish bee-masters
must be in this matter!--they have no toads. I also wish they had no
riots. But troubles must come in some shape. Still, I would rather have
toads than Belfast navvies and ship-carpenters, and any day I would prefer
being _The Times_ Bee-master to be Mayor of Belfast.
We are also exempt in this island of ours from the bear, unless one
should break loose from the strolling menageries that occasionally infest
Tunbridge Wells Common. "The bear," remarks a Yankee, "is the knowingest
varmint for finding out a bee-tree in the world. They'll gnaw for days
together at the trunk, till they make a hole big enough to get in their
paws, and then they'll haul out the honey, bees and all."
The moth is a dangerous enemy. During the day there is no risk of his
attacks. But during the night he is, like other thieves and burglars,
alive and active. "He loves the darkness rather than the light, because
his deeds are evil." As no bee-master can do without sleep, I cannot
expect of the most enthusiastic and devoted that he will watch his hives
the whole night. The only preventive measure of a mechanical sort I can
recommend is that of lessening the entrance door. For this purpose he must
apply a zinc slide, such as Mr. Neighbour, in Holborn, will supply, which
will keep out the moth and yet let out the bees. Besides, the narrower
the door, the more closed up the rank of the bee-sentinels becomes, and
the more able they are to repel the death's-head moth, or any similar
intruder. But the most vigorous prophylactic measure you can take is
to keep your bees in full strength; and as the time selected by these
depredators is the early autumn, you cannot do better than give your
bees a cup of good strong ale, boiled up with sugar, which will cheer up
your whole family, and enable them to put forth their whole strength in
grappling with their enemies. Don't mind teetotal objections. These are
all very good for drunkards; but for sober, industrious bees, determined
to defend their property, a cup of good ale is as kind as it is useful.
The _Acherontia Atropos_, or death's-head hawk-moth, not only robs the
hive of its honey, but frightens and all but paralyses the bees. Huber
gives an account of the exertions of his bees to guard against this
formidable foe. It is here quoted from Lardner:--
"When he found his hives attacked and their store of honey pillaged
by these depredators, he contracted the opening left for the exit and
entrance of the bees to such an extent as, while it allowed them free
ingress and egress, it was so small that their plunderers could not
pass through it. This was found to be perfectly effectual, and all
pillage was thenceforward discontinued in the hives thus protected.
"But it happened that in some of the hives this precaution was not
adopted, and here the most wonderful proceeding on the part of
the bees took place. Human contrivance was brought into immediate
juxtaposition with apiarian ingenuity.
"The bees of the undefended hives raised a wall across the gate of
their city, consisting of a stiff cement made of wax and propolis
mixed in a certain proportion. This wall, sometimes carried directly
across and sometimes a little behind the door, first completely
closed up the entrance; but they pierced in it some openings just
large enough to allow two bees to pass each other in their exits and
entrances.
"The little engineers did not follow one invariable plan in these
defensive works, but modified them according to circumstances. In
some cases a single wall, having small wickets worked through it at
certain points, was constructed. In others several walls were erected
one within the other, placed parallel to each other, with trenches
between them wide enough to allow two bees to pass each other. In each
of these parallel walls several openings or wickets were pierced, but
so placed as not to correspond in position, so that in entering a bee
would have to follow a zigzag course in passing from wicket to wicket.
In some cases these walls or curtains were wrought into a series of
arcades, but so that the intervening columns of one corresponded to
the arcades of the other.
"The bees never constructed these works of defence without urgent
necessity. Thus, in seasons or in localities where the death's-head
moth did not prevail, no such expedients were resorted to. Nor were
they used against enemies which were open to attack by their sting.
The bee, therefore, understands not merely the art of offensive war,
and can play the part of the common soldier, but is also a consummate
military engineer; and it is not against the death's-head moth alone
that it shows itself capable of erecting such defences."
A correspondent of _The Times_, writing on naval guns, who signs himself
"Z," alluded to my letters, and drew a happy illustration from them.
Let me here inform the Admiralty of a new arm which in extremity--for
otherwise it would be the sacrifice of too many bee combatants--may be
used in naval warfare. But perhaps Lord Clarence Paget may find some
difficulty in securing its adoption. It is related in "The Naturalist's
Library:"--
"A small privateer with forty or fifty men, having on board some
hives made of earthenware full of bees, was pursued by a Turkish
galley manned by five hundred seamen and soldiers. As soon as the
latter came alongside, the crew of the privateer mounted the rigging
with their hives, and hurled them down on the deck of the galley. The
Turks, astonished at this novel mode of warfare, and unable to defend
themselves from the stings of the enraged bees, became so terrified
that they thought of nothing but how to escape their fury; while the
crew of the small vessel, defended by masks and gloves, flew upon
their enemies sword in hand, and captured the vessel almost without
resistance."
But as many of my recent correspondents in _The Times_ were clergymen, I
can recommend to the ministers of Belfast an admirable prescription for
the extreme case of a Belfast mob sacking their rectories and manses. The
Mayor of Belfast also might take it into his grave consideration, should
the citizens, instead of trying to convert each other by arguments or
Scripture, have recourse to those fashionable weapons which they lately
wielded with so much effect:--
"During the confusion occasioned by a time of war in 1525, a mob of
peasants assembling in Hohnstein, in Thuringia, attempted to pillage
the house of the parish minister, who, having in vain employed all his
eloquence to dissuade them from their design, ordered his domestics to
fetch his bee-hives and throw them in the middle of this furious mob.
The effect was what might be expected; they were immediately put to
flight, and happy to escape unstung."
Is not this worthy of the consideration of every peaceful vicar in Belfast?
The spider is also a very mischievous pest in bee-houses. He builds his
web in nooks and corners, under the eaves and about the landing-boards,
and in the track of the outgoing and incoming bees. When a bee is
inveigled, its efforts to extricate its captive limbs serve only to
involve it in the toils more hopelessly. I have seen half-a-dozen
working-bees thus caught and scooped out by the ravenous jaws of the
spider. These webs are constructed so rapidly, that nothing short of daily
attention will get rid of them. The best thing is, to have the bee-house
as smooth inside as it can be made, with as few projecting edges and
points as possible; and in the next place, the daily use of a hard,
dry painter's brush will sweep them away as fast as they are made, and
probably their weavers with them.
Finally, the worst enemy of bees is man. There is the barbarous, cruel,
and ungrateful treatment of the brimstone match. The little innocents
have toiled all the summer. They have thrown off a swarm--after the
example of the Church of Scotland, which, by way of showing its internal
strength, threw off a capital swarm in 1843--they have recovered all the
effects of their secession, and amassed abundance for future days. The
bee-cide felon, called man, digs a pit, lights four ounces of brimstone
inside of it, and deliberately sets fifteen thousand bees, queen and
all, above its really and truly infernal fumes--suffocates and burns the
unhappy martyrs, and then subscribes to various charities in winter, and
calls himself a philanthropist! He ought to be sent to the treadmill.
Why does the Society for Preventing Cruelty to Animals take up the case
of cab-horses, and overlook the murdered bees? But there are regular
inquisitors who do not use sulphur. Those scientific crinkum-crankum
hives, from which bees with difficulty get out, and with more difficulty
get in, are little purgatories, over which the inquisitors preside.
Vivisection is no worse. Yet these men complain that all who advocate
simple, easily accessible, and comfortable homes for bees are behind the
age, and ignorant of apiarian progress! There are not more than three
sorts of hives that are humane. All the others bewilder the brains, weary
the legs, and spoil the tempers of the best bees that ever dwelt in a
hive. I have no objection whatever to ornamental bee-sheds; but the hives
which are the dwelling-places of my bees should be as plain as possible,
comfortable, warm, and easy of exit and entrance. A very gifted preacher
said it took all his learning to make his sermons plain: it ought to take
all a bee-master's to make his hives simple. When I hear a fine preacher
expressing himself in grand words and glittering figures, I always feel--I
hope not uncharitably--that he cares more about displaying himself
than serving his Master or feeding his flock. Even so I am tempted to
think of the ingenious inventors of intricate labyrinths they intend for
hives,--that their own fame as apiarians is their chief thought, and the
comfort of their bees their last and least consideration. A careless,
inattentive bee-master is criminal. He ought to see that his bees have
a sufficiency of food at the close of the year. In fine October weather
he may place several soup-plates filled with ale and sugar well boiled
together, and covered with perforated wooden floats, which sink as the
bees sip the contents, opposite his hives. I never find any quarrel ensue,
though I have seen thousands of bees from different hives feed together
for hours. After October till March no liquid food should be offered;
but a stick of barley-sugar may be thrust in now and then. The bees will
not descend to taste it in too cold weather, and during a warm day they
will enjoy such a dessert. In case of damp within the hive, which, when
a glass is retained, may be seen inside of it, select a warm day, remove
the glass, and close the aperture in the hive. Wipe the interior of the
glass with a linen cloth till perfectly dry, and replace it as before. But
a little artificial ventilation on a dry, warm day is still better.
Do not let your bees find by painful experience that their bee-master is
their worst enemy.
For an account of wasps, see my letter to _The Times_, page 157.
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