EXPLANATION OF AN INVERTED-HIVE.
A. is a stout octagon-box, in which is to be placed an inverted cottage-hive containing the Bees. Its diameter within the wood, I mean its clear diameter, is seventeen inches, and its depth, or rather its height, is fifteen or sixteen inches, or just sufficient to reach to, and be level with, the edge of the inverted cottage-hive, when placed within it: in fact, the octagon-box (A.) is a strong case or cover for the inverted-hive; and, if made an inch or two deeper than the hive to be placed in it, it is an easy matter to pack the bottom, so that the edge of the hive and the top-edge of the octagon-box (A.) may be exactly on a level. Fitted and fastened to this is a top or floor, made of three-fourths-inch deal, which top should sit closely upon the edge of the hive all round. The centre of this top is cut out circularly to within an inch and a half of the inner circumference or edge of the hive upon and over which it is placed. Upon this floor is a box, made of inch or inch-and-quarter deal, seventeen inches square within, and four inches deep. This I call the ventilation-box, because through two of its opposite sides are introduced horizontally two cylinder ventilating-tubes, made of tin, thickly perforated, and in all respects similar to those described in page 20. The top of this box is the floor upon which nine glasses are placed for the reception of honey, namely—a large bell-glass in the centre, and eight smaller ones around it. By a large bell-glass I mean—one capable of containing twelve or fourteen pounds of honey, and by smaller ones—such as will hold about four pounds. The Bees of an inverted-hive in a good situation will work well in glasses of these sizes, and soon fill some or all of them: but, if in an unfavourable situation, lesser glasses, down to one-half the abovementioned sizes, will be more suitable. Situation, season, and strength of the stock,—strength, I mean, as respects the number of Bees, must, after all, guide the apiarian in this matter. The floor abovementioned should be made of three-fourths-inch deal. Of course proper apertures must be cut through this floor under each of the glasses to admit the Bees into them from the box beneath. Around and over the glasses is placed another neat box or case, made like the ventilation-box, upon which it rests or stands. The lid of this box is made to open and shut. It is represented in the foregoing cut as opened at B. an inch or two, and may be so retained at pleasure by a proper weight attached to a cord passed over a pulley fixed in the inside of the roof (C.) and fastened to the edge of the lid above B. The depth of the box or cover for the glasses must of course be regulated according to their different sizes. The alighting-board is on the front-side, directly opposite to the latticed doors, and on a level with the upper-side of the first floor; so that the entrance for the Bees must be cut through the lower edge of the ventilation-box; and is made there most conveniently for them to pass either into the inverted pavilion below, or into the glasses above such entrance, as their inclinations may direct.
The octagon-cover placed upon the pavilion-hive, as represented in the view of the closed boxes (in page 29) if inverted, would be a tolerably good model of part A. of the inverted-hive.
I advise that every part be well-made—the floors and the boxes particularly so; and that the whole exterior be well painted too, previously to being exposed to the sun and to the weather. This advice has reference to all my boxes and hives, collateral as well as inverted.
The stocking of this hive may be effected in the following manner. Having made choice of a good, healthy, well-stocked, cottage-hive, you may, at any time between the beginning of March and the end of October, carefully invert and place it in the octagon below the ventilation-box, that is, in the apartment (A.) then fasten the floor with four short screws to the top of the octagon, taking especial care that this floor sits upon the edge of the inverted-hive all round. It will be necessary to keep the Bees from annoying you whilst adjusting this floor and the other parts of the hive, by putting a sheet of tin over the open circular space in the floor; by which tin every Bee may be kept in the hive below. When the boxes, ventilators, glasses, and all things, are duly adjusted, the dividing-tin may be withdrawn; and the operation of stocking will be then completed.
Another method of accomplishing the same object, i. e. of stocking an inverted-hive, is this:
Take the floor that is to rest upon, and be fastened to, the top of the octagon A. and that is to rest also upon the hive when inverted, and with a sheet of tin cover and securely close the circular space made by cutting out its centre: then invert it, that is—let the tinned side be undermost, and place upon this floor, thus prepared, the hive you intend to be inverted. Return it to, and suffer it to occupy, its usual place in your apiary; and there for two or three weeks let it work in which time the Bees will have fastened the hive to their new board with propolis. Then, early in the morning, or late in the evening, when all the Bees are in the hive, make up the entrance, and, having two doors made in opposite panels or sides of the octagon (A.) ten inches by six, or sufficiently commodious for the admission of your hands, steadily invert your hive and prepared board upon which it has been standing, and, without sundering from the hive the board that will now be at its top, carefully place them in the octagon; which, with the help of an assistant, and by the facility afforded by the two little doors in the panels of the octagon for staying and properly supporting and adjusting the hive and its attached floor, may be performed without the escape of a single Bee. As soon as this, which is properly the inversion of the hive, is completed, proceed with the ventilation-box, glasses, &c. as before directed; and, lastly, be careful to liberate the Bees by withdrawing the tin that has kept them prisoners since the entrance was closed. In inverting a hive by this method an expert apiarian need not confine the Bees five minutes.
The Bees will commence their labour by filling the square box between the pavilion and the glasses; they will then extend their beautiful combs into the glasses above. The appearance of their most curious works in this stage of their labour is highly interesting—nay, gratifying, to the apiarian observer; and, moreover, proves the extraordinary influence and utility of ventilation in the domicil, or, rather let me say, in the store-house apartment of Bees; for in the pavilion, or breeding and nursing apartment, it is seldom wanted.
The method of taking off the glasses, whether large ones or small ones, when stored with honey, is in every respect the same as that of which a particular account has been already given, (in pages 37 and 38): to that account, therefore, I beg to refer the reader, instead of here repeating it.
CHAPTER VII.
OBSERVATORY-HIVE.
Having now given such a description and explanation of my collateral box-hives, and of my inverted-hive, as will, by referring to the plates or cuts that accompany them, make both of those hives, and every thing pertaining to them, to be clearly understood; I proceed to explain, in the next place, my OBSERVATORY-HIVE. With the help of the subjoined representative figures or cuts, I hope to succeed in my endeavour to make the reader thoroughly acquainted with every part of it, novel, though it be, and, as far as I know, unlike any hive hitherto invented. At first sight it may probably appear to be a piece of complicate machinery, but upon examination it will be found to be otherwise—I may say—simple and easy. A little curiosity and a little patient attention are all the requisites that I entreat my apiarian friends to bring with them to the studying of this grand hive. I call it grand, not because it is my own invention, but because it is admirably adapted for advancing, and perhaps for perfecting, our knowledge of the habits and economy of Honey-Bees.
With the variation of one short word, the following passage from Evans' delightful poem on Bees is so applicable to my observatory-hive that I am tempted to adopt it as a motto.
The singing masons build their roofs of gold;
And mingling multitudes perplex the view,
Yet all in order apt their tasks pursue;
Still happier they, whose favour'd ken hath seen
Pace slow and silent round, the state's fair Queen.
The observatory-hive, as here exhibited in Fig. 1, consists of two apartments—an upper one and a lower one. The upper one, (marked a. b. c. d. e. e.) is properly the observatory-hive, and may be called the summer-pavilion; the lower one, (marked g.) may be termed the winter-pavilion. Of this winter-pavilion but little need be said, except that it is an octagonal box, in size, in substance, and in every respect, similar to the octagon-part of the inverted-hive described in the last chapter; save only that its top must not be cut away, as is there directed to be done. At present let us suppose this top to be a perfect plane—an entire surface, without any aperture of any sort to form a passage for the Bees from and through it down into the pavilion below; farther let us suppose an alighting-board of the usual size to be fixed in front, and on a level with this floor or top; then the quære will be—how, from the same front-entrance, the Bees are to have a passage both into the observatory-hive above, and into the winter-pavilion below? The difficulty is—to get a convenient passage into the summer-pavilion, because the whole of that pavilion is made to turn round on the shoulder of an upright shaft, through which shaft the passage for the Bees must of necessity be made, and which does not admit of a bore of above an inch in diameter. As, however, this narrow, perpendicular passage is of no great length, (it need not be more than three inches) many thousands of Bees will, in the course of a few minutes, if necessary, make their egress and regress through it without incommoding one another. That this rather intricate part—the construction of this passage-work—may be fully comprehended, I will endeavour to illustrate it by references to a well-known article, now standing on the table, on which I am writing. It is a telescopic candlestick, the pedestal of which covers a square space upon my table, each side of which superficial square is three inches. Now suppose this candlestick was screwed or glued to the centre of the plain, tabular top of the octagon (g.) having one of its sides parallel to that side of the floor to which the alighting-board is attached. Next, suppose that side of the candlestick to be cut away so as to form an entrance into the interior of the pedestal, two inches in front and half an inch in height; and let there be a covered-way of this height, from the opened side of the pedestal to the front-entrance of the hive: then, if the front-entrance be six inches wide, the Bees on coming in will enter this covered-way, which from six inches narrows to three at the part where they enter the pedestal, and begin to ascend the perpendicular passage which leads through it and through the upright shaft of the candlestick into the—at present—supposed apartment above. The top-part of a telescopic candlestick may be turned round at pleasure; consequently, if the pedestal be fixed and made immoveable, the top, and whatever may be upon that top and fastened to it, may be moved round notwithstanding: this is what we particularly want in the construction of an observatory-hive, and must, therefore, be particularly attended to. A piece of clean, close-grained wood—beech, elder, mahogany, or any other firm wood—made much in the shape of our telescopic candlestick, but of not more than two inches and a half in height, with a bore through it of an inch in diameter, and turned, that is, wrought in a lathe, so that an inch of the top-part may enter into, and neatly fit, the cap fixed round the inch bore at the centre of the bottom-frame of the upper pavilion (Fig. 2), and which cap is represented by the moveable top of the candlestick, is, as well as I can describe it, the pedestal to support the observatory-hive,—is, with the cap just mentioned, the compound, or double-hinge upon which that hive is turned round,—and is also the Bee-way into that hive.
The way into the winter-pavilion, or octagon (g.) is made by cutting a circular hole through the very centre of the plane top, an inch in diameter, directly under the upward passage; so that the Bees, whether their way be into the summer-pavilion above, or into the winter-pavilion below, lies through the pedestal, and the only difference is, that one passage leads upwards and the other downwards. The covered-way which has been so often mentioned, may easily be made by taking out of the under-side of the bottom-board of the paneled and roofed box, made to secure the observatory-hive, and which is placed upon the top of the winter-pavilion, just as much as will allow a sufficient space for that way.
Having completed the passages, my next business is—to describe the novel apartment into which the passage through the pedestal leads—that is, the real observatory-hive.
Figure 2 shows the upper glass-frame of this hive with two small circular openings through the top of each arm, over which openings are placed small glasses, (at e. e.) in both Figures, for receptacles for honey, and are intended to answer the same purpose as those do which are placed upon the inverted-hive. A line drawn from one extremity of any one of these arms or wings, to the extremity of the arm or wing directly opposite to it, is twenty-three inches; and the distance between the dotted lines, which are intended to mark the glass-way, or, in joiners' phrase, the rebate to receive the edges of the glass, is exactly one inch and three-fourths. The lower glass-frame, which (in Fig. 1) is placed upon f. the shaft of the pedestal already described, is the exact counterpart of the upper frame, with the exception of its not having any perforations for honey-glasses: the only perforation in this frame is that at its centre; which must be made to correspond with that of the shaft, and be a continuation of the Bee-passage into the hive. These two frames are connected and made one by four upright pieces, or ends, (marked a. b. c. d. in Fig. 1,) these upright, end-pieces must be rebated, or channeled, to receive the ends of the glass-plates. Eight squares of glass, each ten inches and a half by ten inches, fastened with putty into this frame-work,—that is, two squares into each wing, will complete the glass-hive; which, when placed upon the top of the pedestal, and made steady by an axis fixed at the central point of the upper frame, and turning in a socket under the ball, constitutes an observatory-hive. Confined as is the space between the glass-plates in each wing, they being but an inch and three-fourths apart, there is, nevertheless, room enough for the construction of one comb; and space for more than one comb would spoil it as an observatory-hive: and, though each wing may appear to be but small, there are upwards of 760 cubic inches of clear space in the hive. It is so constructed that plenty of light and the utmost transparency are afforded for observing and minutely examining the Bees and the works of the Bees in all their stages. Indeed the grand object of this contrivance is—to expose to view the labours of the Bees in the inside of their hive; and as the machine may be moved round at pleasure, not a Bee can enter it, without being observed, nor can a single cell be constructed in secret. I will only add—that the appearance of the Bees in this hive is beautiful, and excites admiration and surprise,—nay, is capable of enlivening the drooping spirits of the most desponding apiarian; for who can view the Queen of the hive constantly laying her eggs, and, by so doing, constantly propagating her species, and her thousands of loyal subjects, whose indefatigable labour in all its parts is so conspicuous, without experiencing sensations of the purest pleasure,—nay, more of gratitude to God for his goodness to man!
It has been suggested to me by some ingenious friends—that a couple of magnifying glasses set in the doors, and some mechanical contrivance to open a part of the roof by simply pulling a cord, and to throw a proper light upon the four wings of the hive, would be a great improvement; because, by these means, or by some such means as these, the opening and shutting of the doors would be rendered unnecessary,—and, because the Bees and their curious works would be more interesting by being viewed through magnifying glasses,—and because the exterior appearance of the whole concern would be more handsome. Without the slightest hesitation I admit—that, to those persons to whom expense is no object, the mode of examining the observatory-hive would be improved by some such arrangements as those just mentioned; but the hive itself would not be improved in the least,—it would remain just as it was before these costly additions, whether ornamental, or useful, or both, were made to its covering only—not to the hive.
The following cut will, in some degree, represent and tacitly explain an observatory-hive, fitted up in this way.
THE MODE OF STOCKING AN OBSERVATORY-HIVE.
This operation may be performed in various ways, and almost at any time during the summer months, by an experienced apiarian. I will content myself with describing how it may be done most easily, if not most scientifically, by any person possessed of courage enough to operate at all among Bees. It is as follows:
When your Bees swarm from a cottage-hive, take it (the swarm) into a common hive in the usual way 7 place it in a cool, shaded situation, and let it remain there until the evening; and even then attempt no further operation, unless the Bees be all settled and quite still. When they are all within their hive, peaceable, and retired, as it were, for the night, you may suddenly strike them from their hive upon a clean, white sheet, spread over a table prepared and ready for the purpose, and within the space occupied, or rather—enclosed, by four bricks placed edgewise. Upon these bricks place your glass-hive as expeditiously as possible with its entrance just over the Bees. Then envelope your hive with a cloth so as to darken its interior, and, lastly, throw the corners of the sheet over the whole. This done, the Bees will presently ascend into the wings of the hive. When they are all safely lodged in it, you may carefully remove the sheet and the other coverings; and, having securely made up the entrance into the winter-pavilion, then place the stocked hive upon its pedestal, and the Bees will be ready to commence their labour the next day.
At the latter end of August invert the parent-hive from which the swarm issued, and place it in the octagon-box (g.) below the summer-pavilion. Take out the plug that is between the two hives, that is—open the passage into the winter-hive, and you will have accomplished the union of the two families: they will join or unite, and thenceforward continue to labour as one family. By this movement you give to your Bees a winter-residence, secure from all enemies, which are numerous at this season. And so well-stocked will the winter-hive be, that an early swarm from it, for the observatory-hive, the following season may reasonably be expected.
The honey may be taken from the e. e. glasses, placed upon the arms of the summer-pavilion so easily, by turning round the loose boards under the glasses, that further explanation is unnecessary. The machine itself will point out to the perfect stranger the proper method of doing it.
CHAPTER VIII.
FUMIGATION.
Fumigation is a rather portentous word; but, as soon as I shall have explained for what purposes, and in what manner, I occasionally make use of it, it will be totally divested of all deadly signification. In my practice it is not a Bee-destroyer, but a Bee-preserver;—when resorted to by me it is never carried, nor intended to be carried, to suffocation: but, in the operation of uniting weak swarms or poor stocks with more wealthy and prosperous ones—which I consider to be a meritorious and most humane practice,—when it is necessary to examine the state and condition of even a populous colony, should unfavourable symptoms as to its healthiness or its prosperity manifest themselves,—when it is known, or but suspected, that there are wax-moths, mice, spiders, or other Bee-enemies lodged in a hive, which the Bees of themselves cannot dislodge nor get rid of; and which, if not got rid of by man's assistance, would soon destroy almost any colony,—when Bees and their works (for I never transfer the former without transferring an ample sufficiency of the latter at the same time) are to be taken out of a decayed straw-hive, in order to be put into a more substantial one, or into collateral-boxes, which I hold to be the best of all hives,—and on innumerable other occasions, it is absolutely necessary to subdue Bees so far as to render them incapable of using that formidable, venomous, little weapon, with which Providence has armed them, and which generally dreaded little weapon they can use so dexterously, before we can operate upon them for their own good. By means of a very simple apparatus, which may be called a fumigator, and which is a contrivance as novel and as useful in the management of Bees, as any of my hives or other inventions, Bees may be totally subdued without being injured in the slightest degree, and dealt with as if they had neither stings nor wings.
I beg, however, to re-state distinctly—that, in taking off a box or a glass of honey, no fumigation whatever is necessary, or ever practised by me. It is only in cases such as those just enumerated that I have recourse to it; but in no case for the destruction of Bees. Fumigation, therefore, in my practice, is not suffocation.
The following figure is a representation of a fumigator, which a brief explanation will render intelligible.
This useful article consists of a square top-board upon which is placed a straw-hive (E.) so as to show an open, circular space under the hive and through the square board into the bag below. I need hardly observe—that the straw-hive is no part of the fumigator, but is here represented as standing upon it in order to exemplify its use. The top-board is of inch-deal, and is nineteen or twenty inches square. A round piece is cut out of its centre of not more than thirteen inches in diameter—that being something near to, or perhaps rather more than, the inside diameter of a common hive—so that a hive will stand upon the wooden circumference of the part left, without there being any ledge inside, that is—any part so enclosed by the hive as to catch and detain the falling Bees. From the upper-edge of this circle is suspended a bag, a yard in length, made of glazed calico, the bottom-part of which draws round the rim of a shallow, funnel-shaped, tin Bee-receiver, which Bee-receiver is about ten inches across at the top, and its lower part, or neck (D. or F.) is three inches and a half in length, and its throat (if I may so term it) is nearly three inches in width. To fit this neck, which is thickly perforated for the purpose of admitting fresh air, when fresh air may be required, is a close lid, just like that of a common, tin canister, to hold up the fumigated Bees, and also to stop the ventilation when not wanted. C. is the fumigating-lamp with a perforated top through which the fume ascends, and is made conical, so that a fumigated Bee in its fall cannot rest upon it and be thereby scorched or injured, as would inevitably be the case were this top flat. The tie (B.) closes the bag and keeps every Bee above until the lamp and every thing below be adjusted, and it is then to be untied. The fumigator is here represented as standing upon three legs made fast to the top-board by small bolts, as at A.; but it is quite as convenient in practice, and more portable, if, instead of these legs, it be made like a common scale with a cord from each corner, which may be gathered into a small iron-hook, and thereby suspended from the branch of a tree, or from any other convenient place, when used. The lower part of the bag is represented as being transparent, but that is done purposely to show how the lamp is placed inside when prepared for operation.
By persons inexperienced in such matters it may be thought to be an extraordinary feat to unite the Bees of one hive with those of another—-to bind, as it were, the legs and wings, and pro tempore, to render useless the sting of every individual Bee, until such union be effected. Nothing, however, is more easy; nor is any part of apiarian practice attended with more pleasing consequences to the operator, or with more important and beneficial ones to the Bees themselves. When in a state of temporary intoxication from the fume made to ascend through the perforated tin (C.) into their hive, these beautiful insects are perfectly manageable,—perfectly harmless.
This intoxicating fume is caused by introducing into the fumigating-lamp a piece of ignited vegetable substance, called puck, puckball, or frog-cheese, or, most commonly, fuzzball. It is a species of fungus, or mushroom, and is plentiful enough in the autumn in rank pastures and in rich edishes. Shepherds, milk-maids, or country-school boys are well acquainted with them,—know very well where to find them,—and for a mere trifle will easily pick up as many of them as will supply the demands of twenty apiarians. They are frequently as large as a man's head, or larger. In 1826 I had an unripe, white puckball, which weighed ten pounds. When ripe they are internally of a brown colour, and turning spongy and powdery become exceedingly light, and are then properly fuzzballs. For the substance of the following directions respecting the preparation of fuzzballs for Bee-fumigation, and for its application to that occasionally necessary purpose, I have no hesitation in acknowledging myself to be indebted to Thorley's treatise on Bees—no mean authority on such a subject.
When you have procured one of these pucks, put it into a large piece of stout paper,—press it down therein to two-thirds, or, if you can, to one-half, of its original size, and then tie it up closely,—and, lastly, put it into an oven sometime after the household bread has been drawn, that is, when the oven is nearly cool, and let it remain there all night, or, until it will hold fire and smother away like touch-wood, i. e. burn without kindling into flame. In this state it is fit for the fumigating-lamp, and may be used in the manner following, when the union of two stocks is the apiarian's object.
Take a piece of this prepared fungus, as large as a hen's egg, (it is better to have too much of it than too little to begin with) ignite one end of it with a candle, and then put it into the fumigating-lamp,—next fix the lamp in its socket over the Bee-receiver, and place the whole inside the bag, as shown in the plate, and untie B—the fastening round the middle. In a very short space of time the Bees in the hive placed upon the top-board (which is necessarily the first thing to be attended to in every operation of this kind) will be totally under your control. The operator should be particularly careful to close every vacancy, however small, that there may happen to be between the top-board and the edge of the hive, by tying a cloth round it—the hive—as soon as ever it is placed upon the board. This precaution will prevent the escape of any of the fume, and will also prevent the Bees from annoying the operator during the time he is making the arrangements necessary previously to every fumigating process.
In the course of a minute or very little more you will hear the Bees dropping like hail into their receiver, at the bottom of the fumigating apparatus.
When the major part of them are down, and you hear but few fall, gently beat the top of the hive with your hands, in order to get as many down as you can. Then, having loosened the cloth, lift the hive off and set it upon a table, or upon a broad board, prepared for the purpose, and knocking the hive against it several times, many more Bees will fall down, and perhaps the Queen amongst the rest; for, as she generally lodges near the crown of the hive, or is driven thither by the fume, and surrounded and protected there by the other Bees to the very last, and as long ever they have the power loyally to cling round her, she often falls one of the last. If the Queen is not among the Bees on the table, search for her among the main body in the Bee-receiver; first, however, putting them upon the table, if you discover her not before lying among the uppermost Bees therein.
During this search for the Queen, or with as little delay as possible, you, or some one for you, should be proceeding in a similar manner with the Bees in the other hive, with which those already fumigated are to be united. As soon as the Bees of the hive last fumigated are all composed and quiet, and you have found and secured one of the Queens, you may put the Bees of both hives together into an empty one, for the purpose of mingling them thoroughly together, and of sprinkling them at the same time with a little ale and sugar; this done, put them and one only of the two Queens among the combs of the hive you intend them to inhabit, and gently shake them down into it. When you have thus got all the Bees of your two hives into one, cover it with a cloth and closely bind the corners of that cloth about it, and let them stand during that night and the next day, shut or closed up in this manner, so that a Bee may not get out; but not so close as to smother them for want of air.
In the evening of the following day, having previously removed the hive, containing your united-stock, to its proper stand, viz. that which it had occupied before the operation, loose the corners of the cloth and remove it from the mouth of the hive, and the Bees will, with a great noise, immediately sally forth; but being too late to take wing, they will presently go in again; and remain satisfied in and with their new abode—new at least, to one-half of them, and new to the other half also when transferred into a fresh hive, or into boxes.
But in taking away the cloth discretion and caution must be used, because the Bees will for some time resent the affront put upon them by such to them, no doubt, offensive treatment.
The best time of the year for unions of weak stocks with strong ones is in autumn, after the young brood are all out—in the latter part of August, or any time during September: but for removals of stocks from straw-hives into boxes, the best time is early in the spring before the eggs of the Queen have changed and quickened into larvæ,—I will say—in the month of March; and if the weather is cold, it is advisable to perform the operation in a room where the temperature is about 60 degrees. For if Bees are displaced, that is—taken from their hive, in a cold atmosphere, it is but rarely that they recover from the effects of the fume so as to marshal themselves into working order in a box or new hive. But this they can do, and will do most effectually, under this agreeable temperature. As twelve hours are sufficient for the Bees to regain their former independency in their new domicil, you may place them at the end of that period on their summer stool, and they will work, as soon as the weather will permit them, as if they had never been removed from their former hive, nor in any way disturbed.
The great number of operations of this kind, which I have performed before hundreds of admiring and gratified spectators, chiefly of the higher ranks of society, renders it almost unnecessary for me to observe—that once being present at and witnessing it, will convey a more perfect idea of the whole performance than any written description of it can give. If, however, any gentleman, or other apiarian friend, who has not yet seen the performance of this operation, should be desirous of witnessing it, the author will freely undertake that, or any other Bee-service in his power, by which he can oblige, assist, or instruct him.
The same degree of precaution is not necessary on the removing of the Bees of a cottage-hive on my principle; it is only requisite in the particular case of joining or uniting two or more hives together, that such nice management need be observed. And certainly the more expeditiously the whole is performed, the more pleasing will be the result of the operation, and the more certain of success.
I will conclude this subject with an anecdote:—In the year 1828, I was engaged by the Honourable Lady Gifford, of Roehampton, to unite the Bees of two hives; and as the operation was novel to the spectators, who on that occasion consisted principally of the branches of that worthy family,—when I had drawn the Bees from the cottage-hive and they were all spread on a white cloth, and every eye was anxiously intent upon discovering the Queen-Bee, there was some trouble in finding that particular Bee; even I myself—an old practitioner—had overlooked her; and having occasion to leave the table and my fumigated Bees surrounded by my young Lord and Lady Gifford, and by the rest of her Ladyship's family, her infant son, in the arms of his nurse, eagerly called out—"Mamma, mamma, what is that?" Hearing the child's animated expression, I returned to the table, and instantly beheld and caught the Queen of the Bees,—and her actually pointed out by an infant not three years of age. Is there any excuse then for not knowing the Queen-Bee? And, as a true description of this Bee and of the office she fulfils in the hive, will be given in the course of this work, accompanied with a plate of her and also of the other Bees, I trust my Bee-friends will not hereafter allow a child of only three years of age (although that child was the son of a late Attorney-General,) to excel them in this particular point of apiarian knowledge, which is not only highly interesting, but very useful to the operator, when uniting stocks, or transferring Bees from one domicil to another. Never shall I forget the look of satisfaction that beamed on the countenance of the affectionate mother. To see each of her eight amiable children around the table with her Ladyship, minutely searching every little cluster of Bees, in order to give the first information of the Queen, was a lovely sight; but to hear her infant son proclaim, as it were, the Queen of the Bees, by pointing his little, delicate finger to the object of his curiosity, and exclaim—"Mamma, mamma, what is that?" was most gratifying even to me. Well might the little naturalist inquire—"what is that?" when he was in the presence of royalty, and pointing to one of the most extraordinary monarchs in the world, while I myself—an old practitioner, had not previously observed her. Be it so, I acknowledge my oversight in this instance, and feel it incumbent on me to give the merit of the discovery to him, to whom on that occasion it was so justly due.
CHAPTER IX.
OBJECTIONS AGAINST PILING BOXES.
Having gone through the explanation of my different hives, and of all my Bee-machinery, I will, previously to entering upon other matters, here state my objections to the piling of Bee-boxes one upon another, which is sometimes, and not improperly, called—storifying. It is also termed super-hiving, nadir-hiving, or centre-hiving, according to the place occupied by the added box: if an empty box be placed upon a stocked one, it is super-hiving;—if put under such box, it is nadir-hiving;—and if introduced between two boxes, it is centre-hiving. But with whatever term dignified—not to say—mystified, it amounts to, and in effect is—storifying. From an old book in my possession I find—that in 1675 a patent was granted to John Gedde, to secure to him for a term of fourteen years the advantages of his invention of boxes for storifying; so that it is at least of a hundred and sixty years' standing. After Gedde it was successively adopted and encouraged by Rusden, Warder, and Thorley, and has been the fashionable or fancy practice down to the present day; for it is a mode of managing Bees that has been recommended by some modern authors,—principally, if I mistake not, by Dr. Bevan; and it is practised by some Bee-masters, who, I am told, consider it to be the most humane mode, and the only humane mode of managing Honey-Bees. I have no wish to depreciate the inventions and labours of others, nor to offend any man, and particularly that man who has exerted himself so much to better the condition of the Honey-Bee. If he has been mistaken in the means to be employed to gain so desirable an end, and in my humble opinion he certainly has been mistaken, every praise is due to him for his good intentions.
My first objection to the piling system is—because it occasions a great deal of extra trouble, labour, and inconvenience to the Bees, and consequently prevents their collecting so great a quantity of honey and wax as they will do where they are not subjected to these drawbacks. And where, I would fain know, is the humanity in increasing and obstructing the labours of these indefatigable, little insects? Is it not inhumanity to force them to deposit their treasures in a garret, two or three stories high, when a far more convenient store-room may be provided for them on the first floor? Let not, then, the piling advocate of the present day any longer recommend this faulty practice, nor erroneously contend that the elevating of boxes one upon another, is the best and only way of ensuring an abundance of honey and wax. But fairly to get at the merits—not to say—demerits of this practice, I will examine it a little in detail. First, then, the piling practitioner puts a swarm of Bees into a box, which I will call box A. This box, if prosperous, of course soon becomes a pavilion of nature,—that is, it soon contains quantities of brood-comb, young brood, larvæ, and embryo Bees in various stages of existence. It is allowed to stand alone until it be filled, or nearly filled, with the Bees' works. It requires no great skill to know that the contents of box A. at this period are as just described. When nearly full it is placed upon another box (B.) to prevent what is called the maiden-swarm. This box, like box A. is quickly filled with combs: the Queen too follows her labourers and progressively lays her eggs even to the lowest edges of the combs. Of course box B, like box A. soon contains quantities of brood. The second box (B.) gets full just as the first did, and as a cottage-hive does—not with pure honey, but with brood, pollen or farina, and other substances, as well as with honey; in short, there is no provision for, nor means of, dividing the works of the working Bees from the works of the Queen-Bee; consequently they become, as of necessity they must become—one promiscuous mass. The brood continues to increase and occupies that part of the box which should be of pure honey and wax. This goes on until more room is wanted; and then it is that the two full boxes (A. and B.) are exalted and placed upon the third and last box (C.) This, however, does not mend the matter; but, as will be seen presently, it does occasion a great deal of additional labour and inconvenience to the Bees. In the meantime they carry on their works of nature and of art—they construct new combs and store some of the cells with honey, and the Queen lays her eggs in others, just as in the other boxes. The fact is—the three boxes soon become as one: they soon become and continue to be of one temperature,—the same compound of the old hive,—the brood-cells are intermixed with those containing honey,—wreaths of pollen are: in every pile,—and animated nature is everywhere peeping from the waxen cells, in which nothing but pure honey should have been deposited. But this is not all, nor the worst part; though bad enough, if purity of honey be any consideration.
It is a fact known by me and by every one at all experienced in the management of an apiary, that no sooner are the combs in box CL got into a state of forwardness—it would be saying rather too much to say—completed, than numbers of working Bees are, as it were, struck off their work there, and set about removing all superfluities and nuisances from the combs lately filled with young brood in the uppermost box A. Every cell in those combs that has been the nest and nursery of a young Bee they cleanse thoroughly and repair, where repairs are needed, preparatory to its being made a receptacle for honey, or for the other treasures brought from the field. At this time, that is—as soon as the combs are free from the first brood, the uppermost box is nearly empty, instead of being full: it contains empty combs and Bees, but little or no honey. Here then the Bees are subjected to that extra labour and inconvenience which form my first objection to the piling-plan. From the entrance into box C. through box B. and up into box A. the way, to a loaded Bee, is neither short nor pleasant; it is a labyrinth beset with difficulties and obstructions, in surmounting which much of that time is occupied which would otherwise be more profitably, and we may suppose—far more agreeably employed, in passing from flower to flower, and in culling their various sweets. Any person, it may be presumed, would rather set down a heavy load on the ground-floor than have to tug it up two or three long flights of stairs, and through intricate, winding passages, and be jostled and impeded and pushed about, and perhaps backward every now and then, by countless crowds of busy men, unceasingly hurrying up and down and passing and re-passing the burdened man in every direction. And is it not comparatively the same with Bees going through boxes C. and B. up into box A.? I maintain that it is so,—and that Bees in piled-boxes lose much time in performing the unnecessary, climbing labour, imposed upon them by their unskilful masters.
The natural consequence of this—I repeat—unnecessary waste of their time, must not be placed to the account, or laid to the instinct of the Bees; for of all creatures in the world, Bees perhaps work with the most extraordinary celerity. The beautiful piles of honey, and when unobstructed, the regular movements of these wonderful insects, are admirably scientific and correct. The consequence, namely, a deficiency in the quantity of honey and wax, is chargeable solely to the account of the unskilful manager.
At length the time arrives when the three piled-boxes are, or are supposed to be, well stored,—and when a part of the Bees' treasure is to be taken as a remuneration for the care and trouble of the proprietor. Let him then put on his grotesque Bee-dress, and booted up to the middle and gloved to the very elbows, let him proceed to take the uppermost box. He divides it from that on which it stands, that is—from box B. by a slide or a divider of some sort prepared for such an operation, or in any way he pleases, for that I leave to him. Well, he succeeds in getting off his prize; not, however, without the destruction of a considerable number of Bees: for to presume that he is acquainted with my easy mode of taking away a box, would be to presume too much; I therefore allow him a Bee-dress at once, and have accoutered him in the best way I can for his arduous undertaking. The box, then, is off. He turns it up and examines it, and to his great disappointment, he finds that the combs are discoloured, that each pile of the expected treasure contains parts of the young larvæ, and that there is much pollen commingled with the other substances in the box; in short, he finds that the whole is dirty and filthy in appearance; and that he has destroyed a part of the most valuable brood for another year. And, if instead of box A. he take box B. he will fare little, if any better; nay, he will in all probability destroy a greater quantity of brood: and in box C. he cannot expect to find more than half-filled cells, or empty combs. Such are the fruits and profits of the piling system of Bee-management. There are Bee-masters resident within twenty miles of the good town of Spalding, and in many other places that might be mentioned, who know that the foregoing account is true, lamentably true: but, until such practitioners are sensible of the faultiness of their system of Bee-management, it would be folly in me to appeal more directly to any of them for a confirmation of what I know to be the truth. How, I would ask, can the Bees' sweet treasures be divided from their other work, if there be no means of varying and regulating the temperature in their hive? Without the aid of ventilation it is, in my opinion, impossible; but with it, it is perfectly easy, perfectly safe, and not at all distressing nor even unpleasant to the Bees.
Before I take my leave of the piling or storifying practitioner, whom I consider, as perhaps he may consider me, to be very, very imperfect in the management of Bees, I feel it to be my duty to my readers, and of course to the piling Bee-master, if he should vouchsafe to me a reading, to record a few other facts that bear strongly against the piling practice—facts derived from long and attentive observation of the nature and habits of Honey-Bees. Twelve years' steady practice and constant attention to the movements of these ingenious insects are the foundations I have to build upon. Besides I have proofs, well-authenticated, indisputable proofs, of the abundant produce of honey having been taken from collateral-boxes, and that of very superior quality too; which honey I take from the Bees as being a superabundant store, and not as a part, the taking away of which has any tendency to weaken, or in any way to injure, the prosperity of the colony from which it is taken. But what do we behold when a box is taken from a storied pile?—what that in the least deserves to be termed humanity? Do not a thousand murders stare us in the face? Why should the operator be veiled and muffled up and made sting-proof, if no conflict was expected—if no deeds of violence were anticipated? But violence is anticipated, and practised too, to such an extent that it is no uncommon occurrence for the Bees that escape destruction to desert the other boxes altogether. This ends one part of the business.
And these objections against the practice of storifying boxes will, I trust, induce the reflecting, ingenuous reader to turn his attention to the importance of ventilation in collateral-boxes. By regulating the interior temperature of the hive, suitable and generative heat is confined to the pavilion, that is—to the mother-hive, which heat causes the Queen to propagate her young in the pavilion—this being the middle-box, and near the entrance, a great advantage is thereby afforded to all the Bees passing in and out, that fully demonstrates the necessity of their labours being assisted in the breeding-season, and not obstructed.
It is the heat which causes the working-Bees to deposit their pollen in the immediate vicinity of the seat of nature. This pollen, which is called by some writers Bee-bread, is gathered and deposited for the special purpose of supporting the young larvæ, while helpless insects, or babies, as it were, in the hive. Combined with heat, it is this material which discolours the much admired works of the Bees; it is this which also makes the wax and honey yellow: besides where this pollen is deposited by the Bees, there, or in that part of the hive, will the Queen lay her eggs,—and there of course propagate her species. And as animal nature advances to perfection, so rises the interior temperature of the hive, until an almost suffocating heat obliges the Bees to leave their home. This heat extends itself to the most remote parts of their domicil; and were it not for the influence of ventilation in the end-boxes, a discolouration of their beautiful works would also be extended through the hive, and the Queen would lay her eggs promiscuously as she does in the cottage-hive. But this mischief is corrected by ventilation: can then any reasonable man deny its powerful and useful effects in the management of Bees?
The Queen-Bee is but seldom seen by the most acute observer; she loves to propagate her young in secrecy, at the regular temperature of the hive at her own birth. If she can possibly avoid it, she will not lay her eggs where man can overlook and examine her movements; consequently the ventilation in the side-boxes prevents her extending her works of nature beyond the limits of her native hive. As soon as she feels a cooling change of temperature, she immediately withdraws to her native clime, and leaves her working subjects to store the beautifully white combs with the purest crystal sweet. Bat, were the Queen permitted, as she is in the piling system, as well as in the cottage-hive, to follow her subjects through the whole hive, with one and the same temperature throughout, she would most certainly propagate her young just as she does in the piled-boxes. In that case there would be no advantage derivable from the purity of the honey. Again, on my plan, the middle-box is so situated that the Queen in it is placed conveniently to superintend her labourers; her eye can behold them in the throngest of their labour, being so near the well fortified entrance of her pavilion. In such a favourable situation, she can view the movements of her subjects, and not a moment need be lost, because all their streets and passages are short. The direct ascent to the top of one of my boxes is not quite eleven inches, and with a middle-sized bell-glass superadded, it does not exceed eighteen inches; so that in one day, when the honey-dew is plentiful, ten thousand Bees will gather more treasure than three times that number on the piling system, in which the Bees are compelled to mount up to the Babylonian height of Thorley's fourth box.
These (partly repetitions of what has been stated before, I am aware,) are conveniences which collateral-boxes possess, and which do not belong to piled-boxes. In piled-boxes Bees are subjected to unnecessary labour, which is so far a waste of time. From piled-boxes not nearly the quantity of honey and wax is procured, that may be procured from collateral-boxes,—nor is that deficient quantity of a quality at all comparable with the other. In managing piled-boxes many Bees are destroyed.
These are my objections to that system of Bee-management; and I put it to every person who has practised storifying to say whether they are not well-founded.