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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b62873a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63208 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63208) diff --git a/old/63208-0.txt b/old/63208-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 355c04c..0000000 --- a/old/63208-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5677 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bee-Master of Warrilow, by Tickner -Edwardes - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Bee-Master of Warrilow - - -Author: Tickner Edwardes - - - -Release Date: September 15, 2020 [eBook #63208] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW*** - - -This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler - - [Picture: “A corner in the bee garden”] - - - - - - THE BEE-MASTER - OF WARRILOW - - - BY - TICKNER EDWARDES - - FELLOW OF THE ENTOMOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON - AUTHOR OF “THE LORE OF THE HONEY-BEE” - - * * * * * - - THIRD EDITION - - * * * * * - - METHUEN & CO. LTD. - 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. - LONDON - - * * * * * - -_First Published_ _1907_ -_Second Edition (Methuen & Co. Ltd.) Revised and _1920_ -Enlarged_ -_Third Edition_ _1921_ - - * * * * * - -_These Essays are reprinted by the courtesy of the Proprietor of_ “_The -Pall Mall Gazette_.” - - - - -DEDICATION - - - TO THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW’S - - OLDEST AND STAUNCHEST FRIEND, - - T. W. LITTLETON HAY - - THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED - - BY THE WRITER - - - - -PREFACE TO NEW EDITION - - -THE original “BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW”—that queer little honey-coloured -book of far-off days—contained but eleven chapters: in its present -edition the book has grown to more than three times its former length, -and constitutes practically a new volume. - -To those who knew and loved the old “BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW,” no apology -for the additional chapters will be required, because it is directly to -the solicitation of many of them that this larger collection of essays on -English bee-garden life owes its appearance. And equally, to those who -will make the old bee-man’s acquaintance for the first time in these -present pages, little need be said. In spite of the War, the honey-bee -remains the same mysterious, fascinating creature that she has ever been; -and the men who live by the fruit of her toil share with her the like -changeless quality. The Master of Warrilow and his bees can very well be -left to win their own way into the hearts of new readers as they did with -the old. - - T. E. - -THE RED COTTAGE, - BURPHAM, ARUNDEL, - SUSSEX. - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAP. PAGE - PREFACE 7 - INTRODUCTION 13 - I. THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW 17 - II. FEBRUARY AMONGST THE HIVES 24 - III. A TWENTIETH CENTURY BEE-FARMER 31 - IV. CHLOE AMONG THE BEES 37 - V. A BEE-MAN OF THE ’FORTIES 44 - VI. HEREDITY IN THE BEE-GARDEN 52 - VII. NIGHT ON A HONEY-FARM 59 - VIII. IN A BEE-CAMP 65 - IX. THE BEE-HUNTERS 73 - X. THE PHYSICIAN IN THE HIVE 80 - XI. WINTER WORK ON THE BEE-FARM 86 - XII. THE QUEEN BEE: IN ROMANCE AND REALITY 93 - XIII. THE SONG OF THE HIVES 100 - XIV. CONCERNING HONEY 107 - XV. IN THE ABBOT’S BEE-GARDEN 113 - XVI. BEES AND THEIR MASTERS 120 - XVII. THE HONEY THIEVES 126 - XVIII. THE STORY OF THE SWARM 132 - XIX. THE MIND IN THE HIVE 139 - XX. THE KING’S BEE-MASTER 145 - XXI. POLLEN AND THE BEE 152 - XXII. THE HONEY-FLOW 158 - XXIII. SUMMER LIFE IN A BEE-HIVE 164 - XXIV. THE YELLOW PERIL IN HIVELAND 170 - XXV. THE UNBUSY BEE 176 - XXVI. THE LONG NIGHT IN THE HIVE 182 - XXVII. THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BEE-GARDEN 189 - XXVIII. HONEY-CRAFT OLD AND NEW 196 - XXIX. THE BEE-MILK MYSTERY 202 - XXX. THE BEE-BURNERS 209 - XXXI. EVOLUTION OF THE MODERN HIVE 214 - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - -A CORNER IN THE BEE-GARDEN 4 -BROOD-COMB, SHOWING TWO SIZES OF CELL 24 -THE BEE-MASTER’S COTTAGE 46 -THE WAX MAKERS 60 -HARD TIMES FOR THE BEES 86 -HONEY-COMB: ITS VARIOUS STAGES 108 -HIVING A SWARM 134 -1. UPWARD-BUILT COMB 152 -2. UPWARD-BUILT COMB 160 -THE GUARDIAN OF THE HIVES 176 -A NATURAL HONEY-BEE’S NEST 192 -OLD COTTAGE-RUIN, WITH RECESSES FOR HIVES 214 - -INTRODUCTION - - -AMONG the beautiful things of the countryside, which are slowly but -surely passing away, must be reckoned the old Bee Gardens—fragrant, sunny -nooks of blossom, where the bees are housed only in the ancient straw -skeps, and have their own way in everything, the work of the bee-keeper -being little more than a placid looking-on at events of which it would -have been heresy to doubt the finite perfection. - -To say, however, that modern ideas of progress in bee-farming must -inevitably rob the pursuit of all its old-world poetry and -picturesqueness, would be to represent the case in an unnecessarily bad -light. The latter-day beehive, it is true, has little more æsthetic -value than a Brighton bathing-machine; and the new class of bee-keepers, -which is springing up all over the country, is composed mainly of people -who have taken to the calling as they would to any other lucrative -business, having, for the most part, nothing but a good-humoured contempt -alike for the old-fashioned bee-keeper and the ancient traditions and -superstitions of his craft. - -Nor can the inveterate, old-time skeppist himself—the man who obstinately -shuts his eyes to all that is good and true in modern bee-science—be -counted on to help in the preservation of the beautiful old gardens, or -in keeping alive customs which have been handed down from generation to -generation, almost unaltered, for literally thousands of years. Here and -there, in the remoter parts of the country, men can still be found who -keep their bees much in the same way as bees were kept in the time of -Columella or Virgil; and are content with as little profit. But these -form a rapidly diminishing class. The advantages of modern methods are -too overwhelmingly apparent. The old school must choose between the -adoption of latter-day systems, or suffer the only alternative—that of -total extinction at no very distant date. - -Luckily for English bee-keeping, there is a third class upon which the -hopes of all who love the ancient ways and days, and yet recognise the -absorbing interest and value of modern research in apiarian science, may -legitimately rely. Born and bred amongst the hives, and steeped from -their earliest years in the lore of their skeppist forefathers, these -interesting folk seem, nevertheless, imbued to the core with the very -spirit of progress. While retaining an unlimited affection for all the -quaint old methods in bee-keeping, they maintain themselves, -unostentatiously, but very thoroughly, abreast of the times. Nothing new -is talked of in the world of bees that these people do not make trial of, -and quietly adopt into their daily practice, if really serviceable; or as -quietly discard, if the contrivance prove to have little else than -novelty to recommend it. - -As a rule, they are reserved, silent men, difficult of approach; and yet, -when once on terms of familiarity, they make the most charming of -companions. Then they are ever ready to talk about their bees, or -discuss the latest improvements in apiculture; to explain the intricacies -of bee-life, as revealed by the foremost modern observers, or to dilate -by the hour on the astounding delusions of mediæval times. But they all -seem to possess one invariable characteristic—that of whole-hearted -reverence for the customs of their immediate ancestors, their own fathers -and grandfathers. In a long acquaintance with bee-men of this class, I -have never yet met with one who could be trapped into any decided -admission of defect in the old methods, which—to say truth—were often as -senseless as they were futile, even when not directly contrary to the -interest of the bee-owner, or the plain, obvious dictates of humanity. -In this they form a refreshing contrast to the ultra-modern, pushing -young apiculturist of to-day; and it is as a type of this class that the -Bee-Master of Warrilow is presented to the reader. - - - - -CHAPTER I -THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW - - -LONG, lithe, and sinewy, with three score years of sunburn on his keen, -gnarled face, and the sure stride of a mountain goat, the Bee-Master of -Warrilow struck you at once as a notable figure in any company. - -Warrilow is a little precipitous village tucked away under the green -brink of the Sussex Downs; and the bee-farm lay on the southern slope of -the hill, with a sheltering barrier of pine above, in which, all day -long, the winter wind kept up an impotent complaining. But below, among -the hives, nothing stirred in the frosty, sun-riddled air. Now and again -a solitary worker-bee darted up from a hive door, took a brisk turn or -two in the dazzling light, then hurried home again to the warm cluster. -But the flash and quiver of wings, and the drowsy song of summer days, -were gone in the iron-bound January weather; and the bee-master was -lounging idly to and fro in the great main-way of the waxen city, -shot-gun under arm, and with apparently nothing more to do than to -meditate over past achievements, or to plan out operations for the season -to come. - -As I approached, the sharp report of the gun rang out, and a little cloud -of birds went chippering fearsomely away over the hedgerow. The old man -watched them as they flew off dark against the snowy hillside. He threw -out the cartridge-cases disgustedly. - -“Blue-tits!” said he. “They are the great pest of the bee-keeper in -winter time. When the snow covers the ground, and the frost has driven -all insect-life deep into the crevices of the trees, all the blue-caps -for miles round trek to the bee-gardens. Of course, if the bees would -only keep indoors they would be safe enough. But the same cause that -drives the birds in lures the bees out. The snow reflects the sunlight -up through the hive-entrances, and they think the bright days of spring -have come, and out they flock to their death. And winter is just the -time when every single bee is valuable. In summer a few hundreds more or -less make little difference, when in every hive young bees are maturing -at the rate of several thousands a day to take the place of those that -perish. But now every bee captured by the tits is an appreciable loss to -the colony. They are all nurse-bees in the winter-hives, and on them -depends the safe hatching-out of the first broods in the spring season. -So the bee-keeper would do well to include a shot-gun among his -paraphernalia, unless he is willing to feed all the starving tits of the -countryside at the risk of his year’s harvest.” - -“But the blue-cap,” he went on, “is not always content to wait for his -breakfast until the bees voluntarily bring it to him. He has a trick of -enticing them out of the hive which is often successful even in the -coldest weather. Come into the extracting-house yonder, and I may be -able to show you what I mean.” - -He led the way to a row of outbuildings which flanked the northern -boundary of the garden and formed additional shelter from the blustering -gale. A window of the extracting-house overlooked the whole extent of -hives. Opening this from within with as little noise as possible, the -bee-master put a strong field-glass into my hand. - -“Now that we are out of sight,” he said, “the tits will soon be back -again. There they come—whole families of them together! Now watch that -green hive over there under the apple-tree.” - -Looking through the glass, I saw that about a dozen tits had settled in -the tree. Their bright plumage contrasted vividly with the sober green -and grey of the lichened boughs, as they swung themselves to and fro in -the sunshine. But presently the boldest of them gave up this pretence of -searching for food among the branches, and hopped down upon the -alighting-board of the hive. At once two or three others followed him; -and then began an ingenious piece of business. The little company fell -to pecking at the hard wood with their bills, striking out a sharp -ringing tattoo plainly audible even where we lay hidden. The old bee-man -snorted contemptuously, and the cartridges slid home into the breech of -his gun with a vicious snap. - -“Now keep an eye on the hive-entrance,” he said grimly. - -The glass was a good one. Now I could plainly make out a movement in -this direction. The noise and vibration made by the birds outside had -roused the slumbering colony to a sense of danger. About a dozen bees -ran out to see what it all meant, and were immediately pounced upon. And -then the gun spoke over my head. It was a shot into the air, but it -served its harmless purpose. From every bush and tree there came over to -us a dull whirr of wings like far-off thunder, as the blue marauders sped -away for the open country, filling the air with their frightened jingling -note. - -Perhaps of all cosy retreats from the winter blast it has ever been my -good fortune to discover, the extracting-room on Warrilow bee-farm was -the brightest and most comfortable. In summer-time the whole life of the -apiary centred here; and the stress and bustle, inevitable during the -season of the great honey-flow, obscured its manifold possibilities. But -in winter the extracting-machines were, for the most part, silent; and -the natural serenity and cosiness of the place reasserted themselves -triumphantly. From the open furnace-door a ruddy warmth and glow -enriched every nook and corner of the long building. The walls were -lined with shelves where the polished tin vessels, in which the surplus -honey was stored, gave back the fire-shine in a hundred flickering points -of amber light. The work of hive-making in the neighbouring sheds was -going briskly forward, but the noise of hammering, the shrill hum of -sawing and planing machinery, and the intermittent cough of the -oil-engine reached us only as a subdued, tranquil murmur—the very voice -of rest. - -The bee-master closed the window behind its thick bee-proof curtains, -and, putting his gun away in a corner, drew a comfortable high-backed -settle near to the cheery blaze. Then he disappeared for a moment, and -returned with a dusty cobweb-shrouded bottle, which he carried in a -wicker cradle as a butler would bear priceless old wine. The cork came -out with a ringing jubilant report, and the pale, straw-coloured liquid -foamed into the glasses like champagne. It stilled at once, leaving the -whole inner surface of the glass veneered with golden bells. The old -bee-man held it up critically against the light. - -“The last of 19–,” he said, regretfully. “The finest mead year in this -part of the country for many a decade back. Most people have never -tasted the old Anglo-Saxon drink that King Alfred loved, and probably -Harold’s men made merry with on the eve of Hastings. So they can’t be -expected to know that metheglin varies with each season as much as wine -from the grape.” - -Of the goodness of the liquor there admitted no question. It had the -bouquet of a ripe Ribston pippin, and the potency of East Indian sherry -thrice round the Horn. But its flavour entirely eluded all attempt at -comparison. There was a suggestive note of fine old perry about it, and -a dim reminder of certain almost colourless Rhenish wines, never -imported, and only to be encountered in moments of rare and happy chance. -Yet neither of these parallels came within a sunbeam’s length of the -truth about this immaculate honey-vintage of Warrilow. Pondering over -the liquor thus, the thought came to me that nothing less than a supreme -occasion could have warranted its production to-day. And this conjecture -was immediately verified. The bee-master raised his glass above his -head. - -“To the Bees of Warrilow!” he said, lapsing into the broad Sussex -dialect, as he always did when much moved by his theme. “Forty-one years -ago to-day the first stock I ever owned was fixed up out there under the -old codlin-tree; and now there are two hundred and twenty of them. ’Twas -before you were born, likely as not; and bee science has seen many -changes since then. In those days there were nothing but the old straw -skeps, and most bee-keepers knew as little about the inner life of their -bees as we do of the bottom of the South Pacific. Now things are very -different; but the improvement is mostly in the bee-keepers themselves. -The bees are exactly as they always have been, and work on the same -principles as they did in the time of Solomon. They go their appointed -way inexorably, and all the bee-master can do is to run on ahead and -smooth the path a little for them. Indeed, after forty odd years of -bee-keeping, I doubt if the bees even realise that they are ‘kept’ at -all. The bee-master’s work has little more to do with their progress -than the organ-blower’s with the tune.” - -“Can you,” I asked him, as we parted, “after all these years of -experience, lay down for beginners in beemanship one royal maxim of -success above any other?” - -He thought it over a little, the gun on his shoulder again. - -“Well, they might take warning from this same King Solomon,” he said, -“and beware the foreign feminine element. Let British bee-keepers cease -to import queen bees from Italy and elsewhere, and stick to the good old -English Black. All my bees are of this strain, and mostly from one pure -original Sussex stock. The English black bee is a more generous -honey-maker in indifferent seasons; she does not swarm so determinedly, -under proper treatment, as the Ligurians or Carniolans; and, above all, -though she is not so handsome as some of her Continental rivals, she -comes of a hardy northern race, and stands the ups and downs of the -British winter better than any of the fantastic yellow-girdled crew from -overseas.” - - - - -CHAPTER II -FEBRUARY AMONGST THE HIVES - - -THE midday sun shone warm from a cloudless sky. Up in the highest -elm-tops the south-west wind kept the chattering starlings gently -swinging, but below in the bee-garden scarce a breath moved under the -rich soft light. - -As I lifted the latch of the garden-gate, the sharp click brought a -stooping figure erect in the midst of the hives; and the bee-master came -down the red-tiled winding path to meet me. He carried a box full of -some yellowish powdery substance in one hand, and a big pitcher of water -in the other; and as usual, his shirt-sleeves were tucked up to the -shoulder, baring his weather-browned arms to the morning sun. - -“When do we begin the year’s bee-work?” he said, repeating my question -amusedly. “Why, we began on New Year’s morning. And last year’s work -was finished on Old Year’s night. If you go with the times, every day in -the year has its work on a modern bee-farm, either indoors or out.” - - [Picture: “Brood-comb: showing two sizes of cell being made side by - side”] - -“But it is on these first warm days of spring,” he continued, as I -followed him into the thick of the hives, “that outdoor work for the -bee-man starts in earnest. The bees began long ago. January was not out -before the first few eggs were laid right in the centre of the -brood-combs. And from now on, if only we manage properly, each -bee-colony will go on increasing until, in the height of the season, -every queen will be laying from two thousand to three thousand eggs a -day.” - -He stopped and set down his box and his pitcher. - -“If we manage properly. But there’s the rub. Success in bee-keeping is -all a question of numbers. The more worker-bees there are when the -honey-flow begins, the greater will be the honey-harvest. The whole art -of the bee-keeper consists in maintaining a steady increase in population -from the first moment the queens begin to lay in January, until the end -of May brings on the rush of the white clover, and every bee goes mad -with work from morning to night. Of course, in countries where the -climate is reasonable, and the year may be counted on to warm up steadily -month by month, all this is fairly easy; but with topsy-turvy weather, -such as we get in England, it is a vastly different matter. Just listen -to the bees now! And this is only February!’” - -A deep vibrating murmur was upon the air. It came from all sides of us; -it rose from under foot, where the crocuses were blooming; it seemed to -fill the blue sky above with an ocean of sweet sound. The sunlight was -alive with scintillating points of light, like cast handfuls of diamonds, -as the bees darted hither and thither, or hovered in little joyous -companies round every hive. They swept to and fro between us; gambolled -about our heads; came with a sudden shrill menacing note and scrutinised -our mouths, our ears, our eyes, or settled on our hands and faces, -comfortably, and with no apparent haste to be gone. The bee-master noted -my growing uneasiness, not to say trepidation. - -“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “It is only their companionableness. They -won’t sting—at least, not if you give them their way. But now come and -see what we are doing to help on the queens in their work.” - -At different stations in the garden I had noticed some shallow wooden -trays standing among the hives. The old bee-man led the way to one of -these. Here the humming was louder and busier than ever. The tray was -full of fine wood-shavings, dusted over with the yellow powder from the -bee-master’s box; and scores of bees were at work in it, smothering -themselves from head to foot, and flying off like golden millers to the -hives. - -“This is pea-flour,” explained the master, “and it takes the place of -pollen as food for the young bees, until the spring flowers open and the -natural supply is available. This forms the first step in the -bee-keeper’s work of patching up the defective English climate. From the -beginning our policy is to deceive the queens into the belief that all is -prosperity and progress outside. We keep all the hives well covered up, -and contract the entrances, so that a high temperature is maintained -within, and the queens imagine summer is already advancing. Then they -see the pea-flour coming in plentifully, and conclude that the fields and -hillsides are covered with flowers; for they never come out of the hives -except at swarming-time, and must judge of the year by what they see -around them. Then in a week or two we shall put the spring-feeders on, -and give each hive as much syrup as the bees can take down; and this, -again, leads the queens into the belief that the year’s food-supply has -begun in earnest. The result is that the winter lethargy in the hive is -soon completely overthrown, the queens begin to lay unrestrictedly, and -the whole colony is forging on towards summer strength long before there -is any natural reason for it.” - -We were stooping down, watching the bees at the nearest hive. A little -cloud of them was hovering in the sunshine, heads towards the entrance, -keeping up a shrill jovial contented note as they flew. Others were -roving round with a vagrant, workless air, singing a low desultory song -as they trifled about among the crocuses, passing from gleaming white to -rich purple, then to gold, and back again to white, just as the mood took -them. In the hive itself there was evidently a kind of spring-cleaning -well in progress. Hundreds of the bees were bringing out minute -sand-coloured particles, which accumulated on the alighting-board visibly -as we watched. Now and again a worker came backing out, dragging a dead -bee laboriously after her. Instantly two or three others rushed to help -in the task, and between them they tumbled the carcass over the edge of -the footboard down among the grass below. Sometimes the burden was of a -pure white colour, like the ghost of a bee, perfect in shape, with beady -black eyes, and its colourless wings folded round it like a cerecloth. -Then it seemed to be less weighty, and its carrier usually shouldered the -gruesome thing, and flew away with it high up into the sunshine, and -swiftly out of view. - -“Those are the undertakers,” said the bee-master, ruminatively filling a -pipe. “Their work is to carry the dead out of the hive. That last was -one of the New Year’s brood, and they often die in the cell like that, -especially at the beginning of the season. All that fine drift is the -cell-cappings thrown down during the winter from time to time as the -stores were broached, and every warm day sees them cleaning up the hive -in this way. And now watch these others—these that are coming and going -straight in and out of the hive.” - -I followed the pointing pipe-stem. The alighting-stage was covered with -a throng of bees, each busily intent on some particular task. But every -now and then a bee emerged from the hive with a rush, elbowed her way -excitedly through the crowd, and darted straight off into the sunshine -without an instant’s pause. In the same way others were returning, and -as swiftly disappearing into the hive. - -“Those are the water-carriers,” explained the master. “Water is a -constant need in bee-life almost the whole year round. It is used to -soften the mixture of honey and pollen with which the young grubs and -newly-hatched bees are fed; and the old bees require a lot of it to -dilute their winter stores. The river is the traditional watering-place -for my bees here, and in the summer it serves very well; but in the -winter hundreds are lost either through cold or drowning. And so at this -time we give them a water-supply close at home.” - -He took up his pitcher, and led the way to the other end of the garden. -Here, on a bench, he showed me a long row of glass jars full of water, -standing mouth downward, each on its separate plate of blue china. The -water was oozing out round the edges of the jars, and scores of the bees -were drinking at it side by side, like cattle at a trough. - -“We give it them lukewarm,” said the old bee-man, “and always mix salt -with it. If we had sea-water here, nothing would be better; seaside bees -often go down to the shore to drink, as you may prove for yourself on any -fine day in summer. Why are all the plates blue? Bees are as fanciful -in their ways as our own women-folk, and in nothing more than on the -question of colour. Just this particular shade of light blue seems to -attract them more than any other. Next to that, pure white is a -favourite with them; but they have a pronounced dislike to anything -brilliantly red, as all the old writers about bees noticed hundreds of -years ago. If I were to put some of the drinking-jars on bright red -saucers now, you would not see half as many bees on them as on the pale -blue.” - -We moved on to the extracting-house, whence the master now fetched his -smoker, and a curious knife, with a broad and very keen-looking blade. -He packed the tin nozzle of the smoker with rolled brown paper, lighted -it, and, by means of the little bellows underneath, soon blew it up into -full strength. Then he went to one of the quietest hives, where only a -few bees were wandering aimlessly about, and sent a dense stream of smoke -into the entrance. A moment later he had taken the roof and coverings -off, and was lifting out the central comb-frames one by one, with the -bees clinging in thousands all about them. - -“Now,” he said, “we have come to what is really the most important -operation of all in the bee-keeper’s work of stimulating his stocks for -the coming season. Here in the centre of each comb you see the young -brood; but all the cells above and around it are full of honey, still -sealed over and untouched by the bees. The stock is behind time. The -queen must be roused at once to her responsibilities, and here is one -very simple and effective way of doing it.” - -He took the knife, deftly shaved off the cappings from the honey-cells of -each comb, and as quickly returned the frames, dripping with honey, to -the brood-nest. In a few seconds the hive was comfortably packed down -again, and he was looking round for the next languid stock. - -“All these slow, backward colonies,” said the bee-master, as he puffed -away with his smoker, “will have to be treated after the same fashion. -The work must be smartly done, or you will chill the brood; but, in -uncapping the stores like this, right in the centre of the brood-nest, -the effect on the stock is magical. The whole hive reeks with the smell -of honey, and such evidence of prosperity is irresistible. To-morrow, if -you come this way, you will see all these timorous bee-folk as busy as -any in the garden.” - - - - -CHAPTER III -A TWENTIETH CENTURY BEE-FARMER - - -IT was sunny spring in the bee-garden. The thick elder-hedge to the -north was full of young green leaf; everywhere the trim footways between -the hives were marked by yellow bands of crocus-bloom, and daffodils just -showing a golden promise of what they would be in a few warm days to -come. From a distance I had caught the fresh spring song of the hives, -and had seen the bee-master and his men at work in different quarters of -the mimic city. But now, drawing nearer, I observed they were intent on -what seemed to me a perfectly astounding enterprise. Each man held a -spoon in one hand and a bowl of what I now knew to be pea-flour in the -other, and I saw that they were busily engaged in filling the -crocus-blossoms up to the brim with this inestimable condiment. My -friend the bee-master looked up on my approach, and, as was his wont, -forestalled the inevitable questioning. - -“This is another way of giving it,” he explained, “and the best of all in -the earliest part of the season. Instinct leads the bees to the flowers -for pollen-food when they will not look for it elsewhere; and as the -natural supply is very meagre, we just help them in this way.” - -As he spoke I became rather unpleasantly aware of a change of manners on -the part of his winged people. First one and then another came harping -round, and, settling comfortably on my face, showed no inclination to -move again. In my ignorance I was for brushing them off, but the -bee-master came hurriedly to my rescue. He dislodged them with a few -gentle puffs from his tobacco-pipe. - -“That is always their way in the spring-time,” he explained. “The warmth -of the skin attracts them, and the best thing to do is to take no notice. -If you had knocked them off you would probably have been stung.” - -“Is it true that a bee can only sting once?” I asked him, as he bent -again over the crocus beds. - -He laughed. - -“What would be the good of a sword to a soldier,” he said, “if only one -blow could be struck with it? It is certainly true that the bee does not -usually sting a second time, but that is only because you are too hasty -with her. You brush her off before she has had time to complete her -business, and the barbed sting, holding in the wound, is torn away, and -the bee dies. But now watch how the thing works naturally.” - -A bee had settled on his hand as he was speaking. He closed his fingers -gently over it, and forced it to sting. - -“Now,” he continued, quite unconcernedly, “look what really happens. The -bee makes two or three lunges before she gets the sting fairly home. -Then the poison is injected. Now watch what she does afterwards. See! -she has finished her work, and is turning round and round! The barbs are -arranged spirally on the sting, and she is twisting it out -corkscrew-fashion. Now she is free again! there she goes, you see, -weapon and all; and ready to sting again if necessary.” - -The crocus-filling operation was over now, and the bee-master took up his -barrow and led the way to a row of hives in the sunniest part of the -garden. He pulled up before the first of the hives, and lighted his -smoking apparatus. - -“These,” he said, as he fell to work, “have not been opened since -October, and it is high time we saw how things are going with them.” - -He drove a few strong puffs of smoke into the entrance of the hive and -removed the lid. Three or four thicknesses of warm woollen quilting lay -beneath. Under these a square of linen covered the tops of the frames, -to which it had been firmly propolised by the bees. My friend began to -peel this carefully off, beginning at one corner and using the smoker -freely as the linen ripped away. - -“This was a full-weight hive in the autumn,” he said, “so there was no -need for candy-feeding. But they most be pretty near the end of their -stores now. You see how they are all together on the three or four -frames in the centre of the hive? The other combs are quite empty and -deserted. And look how near they are clustering to the top of the bars! -Bees always feed upwards, and that means we must begin spring-feeding -right away.” - -He turned to the barrow, on which was a large box, lined with warm -material, and containing bar frames full of sealed honeycomb. - -“These are extra combs from last summer. I keep them in a warm cupboard -over the stove at about the same temperature as the hive we are going to -put them into. But first they must be uncapped. Have you ever seen the -Bingham used?” - -From the inexhaustible barrow he produced the long knife with the broad, -flat blade; and, poising the frame of honeycomb vertically on his knee, -he removed the sheet of cell-caps with one dexterous cut, laying the -honey bare from end to end. This frame was then lowered into the hive -with the uncapped side close against the clustering bees. Another comb, -similarly treated, was placed on the opposite flank of the cluster. -Outside each of these a second full comb was as swiftly brought into -position. Then the sliding inner walls of the brood-nest were pushed up -close to the frame, and the quilts and roof restored. The whole seemed -the work of a few moments at the outside. - -“All this early spring work,” said the bee-master, as we moved to the -next hive, “is based upon the recognition of one thing. In the south -here the real great honey-flow comes all at once: very often the main -honey-harvest for the year has to be won or lost during three short weeks -of summer. The bees know this, and from the first days of spring they -have only the one idea—to create an immense population, so that when the -honey-flow begins there may be no lack of harvesters. But against this -main idea there is another one—their ingrained and invincible caution. -Not an egg will be laid nor a grub hatched unless there is reasonable -chance of subsistence for it. The populace of the hive must be increased -only in proportion to the amount of stores coming in. With a good -spring, and the early honey plentiful, the queen will increase her -production of eggs with every day, and the population of the hive will -advance accordingly. But if, on the very brink of the great honey-flow, -there comes, as is so often the case, a spell of cold windy weather, -laying is stopped at once; and, if the cold continues, all hatching grubs -are destroyed and the garrison put on half-rations. And so the work of -months is undone.” - -He stooped to bring his friendly pipe to my succour again, for a bee was -trying to get down my collar in the most unnerving way, and another had -apparently mistaken my mouth for the front-door of his hive. The -intruders happily driven off, the master went back to his work and his -talk together. - -“But it is just here that the art of the bee-keeper comes in. He must -prevent this interruption to progress by maintaining the confidence of -the bees in the season. He must create an artificial plenty until the -real prosperity begins. Yet, after all, he must never lose sight of the -main principle, of carrying out the ideas of the bees, not his own. In -good beemanship there is only one road to success: you must study to find -out what the bees intend to do, and then help them to do it. They call -us bee-masters, but bee-servants would be much the better name. The bees -have their definite plan of life, perfected through countless ages, and -nothing you can do will ever turn them from it. You can delay their -work, or you can even thwart it altogether, but no one has ever succeeded -in changing a single principle in bee-life. And so the best bee-master -is always the one who most exactly obeys the orders from the hive.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV -CHLOE AMONG THE BEES - - -THE bee-mistress looked at my card, then put its owner under a like -careful scrutiny. In the shady garden where we stood, the sunlight fell -in quivering golden splashes round our feet. High overhead, in the -purple elm-blossom, the bees and the glad March wind made rival music. -Higher still a ripple of lark-song hung in the blue, and a score of rooks -were sailing by, filling the morning with their rich, deep clamour of -unrest. - -The bee-mistress drew off her sting-proof gloves in thoughtful -deliberation. - -“If I show you the bee-farm,” said she, eyeing me somewhat doubtfully, -“and let you see what women have done and are doing in an ideal feminine -industry, will you promise to write of us with seriousness? I mean, will -you undertake to deal with the matter for what it is—a plain, business -enterprise by business people—and not treat it flippantly, just because -no masculine creature has had a hand in it?” - -“This is an attempt,” she went on—the needful assurances having been -given—“an attempt, and, we believe, a real solution to a very real -difficulty. There are thousands of educated women in the towns who have -to earn their own bread; and they do it usually by trying to compete with -men in walks of life for which they are wholly unsuited. Now, why do -they not come out into the pure air and quiet of the countryside, and -take up any one of several pursuits open there to a refined, well-bred -woman? Everywhere the labourers are forsaking the land and crowding into -the cities. That is a farmers’ problem, with which, of course, women -have nothing to do. The rough, heavy work in the cornfields must always -be done either by men or machinery. But there are certain employments, -even in the country, that women can invariably undertake better than men, -and bee-keeping is one of them. The work is light. It needs just that -delicacy and deftness of touch that only a woman can bring to it. It is -profitable. Above all, there is nothing about it, from first to last, of -an objectionable character, demanding masculine interference. In -poultry-farming, good as it is for women, there must always be a -stony-hearted man about the place to do unnameable necessary things in a -fluffy back-shed. But bee-keeping is clean, clever, humanising, open-air -work—essentially women’s work all through.” - -She had led the way through the scented old-fashioned garden, towards a -gate in the farther wall, talking as she went. Now she paused, with her -hand on the latch. - -“This,” she said, “we call the Transition Gate. It divides our work from -our play. On this side of it we have the tennis-court and the croquet, -and other games that women love, young or old. But it is all serious -business on the other side. And now you shall see our latter-day Eden, -with its one unimportant omission.” - -As the door swung back to her touch, the murmur that was upon the air -grew suddenly in force and volume. Looking through, I saw an old -orchard, spacious, sun-riddled, carpeted with green; and, stretching away -under the ancient apple-boughs, long, neat rows of hives, a hundred or -more, all alive with bees, winnowing the March sunshine with their myriad -wings. - -Here and there in the shade-dappled pleasance figures were moving about, -busily at work among the hives, figures of women clad in trim holland -blouses, and wearing bee-veils, through which only a dim guess at the -face beneath could be hazarded. Laughter and talk went to and fro in the -sun-steeped quiet of the place; and one of the fair bee-gardeners near at -hand—young and pretty, I could have sworn, although her blue gauze veil -disclosed provokingly little—was singing to herself, as she stooped over -an open hive, and lifted the crowded brood-frames one by one up into the -light of day. - -“The great work of the year is just beginning with us,” explained the -bee-mistress. “In these first warm days of spring every hive must be -opened and its condition ascertained. Those that are short of stores -must be fed; backward colonies must be quickened to a sense of their -responsibilities. Clean hives must be substituted for the old, -winter-soiled dwellings. Queens that are past their prime will have to -be dethroned, and their places filled by younger and more vigorous -successors. But it is all typically women’s work. You have an old -acquaintance with the lordly bee-master and his ways; now come and see -how a woman manages.” - -We passed over to the singing lady in the veil, and—from a safe -distance—watched her at her work. Each frame, as it was raised out of -the seething abyss of the hive, was turned upside down and carefully -examined. A little vortex of bees swung round her head, shrilling -vindictively. Those on the uplifted comb-frames hustled to and fro like -frightened sheep, or crammed themselves head foremost into the empty -cells, out of reach of the disturbing light. - -“That is a queenless stock,” said the bee-mistress. “It is going to be -united with another colony, where there is a young, high-mettled ruler in -want of subjects.” - -We watched the bee-gardener as she went to one of the neighbouring hives, -subdued and opened it, drew out all the brood-combs, and brought them -over in a carrying-rack, with the bees clustering in thousands all about -them. Then a scent-diffuser was brought into play, and the fragrance of -lavender-water came over to us, as the combs of both hives were quickly -sprayed with the perfume, then lowered into the hive, a frame from each -stock alternately. It was the old time-honoured plan for uniting -bee-colonies, by impregnating them with the same odour, and so inducing -the bees to live together peaceably, where otherwise a deadly war might -ensue. But the whole operation was carried through with a neat celerity, -and light, dexterous handling, I had never seen equalled by any man. - -“That girl,” said the bee-mistress, as we moved away, “came to me out of -a London office a year ago, anæmic, pale as the paper she typed on all -day for a living. Now she is well and strong, and almost as brown as the -bees she works among so willingly. All my girls here have come to me -from time to time in the same way out of the towns, forsaking indoor -employment that was surely stunting all growth of mind and body. And -there are thousands who would do the same to-morrow, if only the chance -could be given them.” - -We stopped in the centre of the old orchard. Overhead the swelling -fruit-buds glistened against the blue sky. Merry thrush-music rang out -far and near. Sun and shadow, the song of the bees, laughing voices, a -snatch of an old Sussex chantie, the perfume of violet-beds and nodding -gillyflowers, all came over to us through the lichened tree-stems, in a -flood of delicious colour and scent and sound. The bee-mistress turned -to me, triumphantly. - -“Would any sane woman,” she asked, “stop in the din and dirt of a smoky -city, if she could come and work in a place like this? Bee-keeping for -women! do you not see what a chance it opens up to poor toiling folk, -pining for fresh air and sunshine, especially to the office-girl class, -girls often of birth and refinement—just that kind of poor gentlewomen -whose breeding and social station render them most difficult of all to -help? And here is work for them, clean, intellectual, profitable; work -that will keep them all day long in the open air; a healthy, happy -country life, humanly within the reach of all.” - -“What is wanted,” continued the bee-mistress, as we went slowly down the -broad main-way of the honey-farm, “is for some great lady, rich in -business ideas as well as in pocket, to take up the whole scheme, and to -start a network of small bee-gardens for women over the whole land. Very -large bee-farms are a mistake, I think, except in the most favourable -districts. Bees work only within a radius of two or three miles at most, -so that the number of hives that can be kept profitably in a given area -has its definite limits. But there is still plenty of room everywhere -for bee-farms of moderate size, conducted on the right principles; and -there is no reason at all why they should not work together on the -co-operative plan, sending all their produce to some convenient centre in -each district, to be prepared and marketed for the common good.” - -“But the whole outcome,” she went on, “of a scheme like this depends on -the business qualities imported into it. Here, in the heart of the -Sussex Weald, we labour together in the midst of almost ideal -surroundings, but we never lose sight of the plain, commercial aspect of -the thing. We study all the latest writings on our subject, experiment -with all novelties, and keep ourselves well abreast of the times in every -way. Our system is to make each hive show a clear, definite profit. The -annual income is not, and can never be, a very large one, but we fare -quite simply, and have sufficient for our needs. In any case, however, -we have proved here that a few women, renting a small house and garden -out in the country, can live together comfortably on the proceeds from -their bees; and there is no reason in the world why the idea should not -be carried out by others with equal success.” - -We had made the round of the whole busy, murmuring enclosure, and had -come again to the little door in the wall. Passing through and out once -more into the world of merely masculine endeavour, the bee-mistress gave -me a final word. - -“You may think,” said she, “that what I advocate, though successful in -our own single instance, might prove impracticable on a widely extended -scale. Well, do you know that last year close upon three hundred and -fifty tons of honey were imported into Great Britain from foreign -sources, {43} just because our home apiculturists were unable to cope -with the national demand? And this being so, is it too much to think -that, if women would only band themselves together and take up -bee-keeping systematically, as we have done, all or most of that honey -could be produced—of infinitely better quality—here, on our own British -soil?” - - - - -CHAPTER V -A BEE-MAN OF THE ’FORTIES - - -THE old bee-garden lay on the verge of the wood. Seen from a distance it -looked like a great white china bowl brimming over with roses; but a -nearer view changed the porcelain to a snowy barrier of hawthorn, and the -roses became blossoming apple-boughs, stretching up into the May -sunshine, where all the bees in the world seemed to have forgathered, -filling the air with their rich wild chant. - -Coming into the old garden from the glare of the dusty road, the hives -themselves were the last thing to rivet attention. As you went up the -shady moss-grown path, perhaps the first impression you became gratefully -conscious of was the slow dim quiet of the place—a quiet that had in it -all the essentials of silence, and yet was really made up of a myriad -blended sounds. Then the sheer carmine of the tulips, in the sunny vista -beyond the orchard, came upon you like a trumpet-note through the shadowy -aisles of the trees; and after this, in turn, the flaming amber of the -marigolds, broad zones of forget-me-nots like strips of the blue sky -fallen, snow-drifts of arabis and starwort, purple pansy-spangles veering -to every breeze. And last of all you became gradually aware that every -bright nook or shade-dappled corner round you had its nestling bee-skep, -half hidden in the general riot of blossom, yet marked by the steadier, -deeper song of the homing bees. - -To stand here, in the midst of the hives, of a fine May morning, side by -side with the old bee-man, and watch with him for the earliest swarms of -the year, was an experience that took one back far into another and a -kindlier century. There were certain hives in the garden, grey with age -and smothered in moss and lichen, that were the traditional -mother-colonies of all the rest. The old bee-keeper treasured them as -relics of his sturdy manhood, just as he did the percussion fowling-piece -over his mantel; and pointed to one in particular as being close on -thirty years old. Nowadays remorseless science has proved that the -individual life of the honey-bee extends to four or five months at most; -but the old bee-keeper firmly believed that some at least of the original -members of this colony still flourished in green old age deep in the -sombre corridors of the ancient skep. Bending down, he would point out -to you, among the crowd on the alighting-board, certain bees with -polished thorax and ragged wings worn almost to a stump. While the young -worker-bees were charging in and out of the hive at breakneck speed, -these superannuated amazons doddered about in the sunlight, with an -obvious and pathetic assumption of importance. They were really the last -survivors of the bygone winter’s brood. Their task of hatching the new -spring generation was over; and now, the power of flight denied to them, -they busied themselves in the work of sentinels at the gate, or in -grooming the young bees as they came out for their first adventure into -the far world of blossoming clover under the hill. - -For modern apiculture, with its interchangeable comb-frames and -section-supers, and American notions generally, the old bee-keeper -harboured a fine contempt. In its place he had an exhaustless store of -original bee-knowledge, gathered throughout his sixty odd years of placid -life among the bees. His were all old-fashioned hives of straw, hackled -and potsherded just as they must have been any time since Saxon Alfred -burned the cakes. Each bee-colony had its separate three-legged stool, -and each leg stood in an earthen pan of water, impassable moat for ants -and “wood-li’s,” and such small honey-thieves. Why the hives were thus -dotted about in such admired but inconvenient disorder was a puzzle at -first, until you learned more of ancient bee-traditions. Wherever a -swarm settled—up in the pink-rosetted apple-boughs, under the eaves of -the old thatched cottage, or deep in the tangle of the hawthorn -hedge—there, on the nearest open ground beneath, was its inalienable, -predetermined home. When, as sometimes happened, the swarm went straight -away out of sight over the meadows, or sailed off like a pirouetting grey -cloud over the roof of the wood, the old bee-keeper never sought to -reclaim it for the garden. - - [Picture: “The Bee-Master’s cottage”] - -“’Tis gone to the shires fer change o’ air,” he would say, shielding his -bleak blue eyes with his hand, as he gazed after it. “’Twould be agen -natur’ to hike ’em back here along. An’ naught but ill-luck an’ worry -wi’out end.” - -He never observed the skies for tokens of to-morrow’s weather, as did his -neighbours of the countryside. The bees were his weather-glass and -thermometer in one. If they hived very early after noon, though the sun -went down in clear gold and the summer night loomed like molten amethyst -under the starshine, he would prophesy rain before morning. And sure -enough you were wakened at dawn by a furious patter on the window, and -the booming of the south-west wind in the pine-clad crest of the hill. -But if the bees loitered afield far into the gusty crimson gloaming, and -the loud darkness that followed seemed only to bring added intensity to -the busy labour-note within the hives, no matter how the wind keened or -the griddle of black storm-cloud threatened, he would go on with his -evening task of watering his garden, sure of a morrow of cloudless heat -to come. - -He knew all the sources of honey for miles around; and, by taste and -smell, could decide at once the particular crop from which each sample -had been gathered. He would discriminate between that from white clover -or sainfoin; the produce of the yellow charlock wastes; or the -orchard-honey, wherein it seemed the fragrance of cherry-bloom was always -to be differentiated from that of apple or damson or pear. He would tell -you when good honey had been spoilt by the grosser flavour of sunflower -or horse-chestnut; or when the detestable honey-dew had entered into its -composition; or, the super-caps having been removed too late in the -season, the bees had got at the early ivy-blossom, and so degraded all -the batch. - -Watching bees at work of a fair morning in May, nothing excites the -wonder of the casual looker-on more than the mysterious burdens they are -for ever bringing home upon their thighs; semi-globular packs, always -gaily coloured, and often so heavy and cumbersome that the bee can hardly -drag its weary way into the hive. This is pollen, to be stored in the -cells, and afterwards kneaded up with honey as food for the young bees. -The old man could say at once by the colour from which flower each load -was obtained. The deep brown-gold panniers came from the gorse-bloom; -the pure snow-white from the hawthorns; the vivid yellow, always so big -and seemingly so weighty, had been filled in the buttercup meads. Now -and again, in early spring, a bee would come blundering home with a load -of pallid sea-green hue. This came from the gooseberry bushes. And -later, in summer, when the poppies began to throw their scarlet shuttles -in the corn, many of these airy cargoes would be of a rich velvety black. -But there was one kind which the old bee-man had never yet succeeded in -tracing to its flowery origin. He saw it only rarely, perhaps not a -dozen times in the season—a wonderful deep rose-crimson, singling out its -bearer, on her passage through the throng, as with twin danger-lamps, -doubly bright in the morning glow. - -Keeping watch over the comings and goings of his bees was always his -favourite pastime, year in and year out; but it was in the later weeks of -May that his interest in them culminated. He had always had swarms in -May as far back as his memory could serve him; and the oldest hive in the -garden was generally the first to swarm. As a rule the bees gave -sufficient warning of their intended migration some hours before their -actual issue. The strenuous pell-mell business of the hive would come to -a sudden portentous halt. While a few of the bees still darted straight -off into the sunshine on their wonted errands, or returned with the usual -motley loads upon their thighs, the rest of the colony seemed to have -abandoned work altogether. From early morning they hung in a great brown -cluster all over the face of the hive, and down almost to the earth -beneath; a churning mass of insect-life that grew bigger and bigger with -every moment, glistening like wet seaweed in the morning sun. In the -cluster itself there was an uncanny silence. But out of the depths of -the hive came a low vibrating murmur, wholly distinct from its usual -note; and every now and again a faint shrill piping sound could be heard, -as the old queen worked herself up to swarming frenzy, vainly seeking the -while to reach the royal nursery where the rival who was to oust her from -her old dominion was even then steadily gnawing through her constraining -prison walls. - -At these momentous times a quaint ceremonial was rigidly adhered to by -the old bee-master. First he brought out a pitcher of home-brewed ale, -from which all who were to assist in the swarm-taking were required to -drink, as at a solemn rite. The dressing of the skep was his next care. -A little of the beer was sprinkled over its interior, and then it was -carefully scoured out with a handful of balm and lavender and mint. -After this the skep was covered up and set aside in the shade; and the -old bee-keeper, carrying an ancient battered copper bowl in one gnarled -hand, and a great door-key in the other, would lead the way towards the -hive, his drab smock-frock mowing the scarlet tulip-heads down as he -went. - -Sometimes the swarm went off without any preliminary warning, just as if -the skep had burst like a bombshell, volleying its living contents into -the sky. But oftener it went through the several stages of a regular -process. After much waiting and many false alarms, a peculiar stir would -come in the throng of bees cumbering the entrance to the hive. Thousands -rose on the wing, until the sunshine overhead was charged with them as -with countless fluttering atoms of silver-foil; and a wild joyous song -spread far and wide, overpowering all other sounds in the garden. Within -the hive the rich bass note had ceased; and a hissing noise, like a great -caldron boiling over, took its place, as the bees inside came pouring out -to join the carolling multitude above. Last of all came the queen. -Watching for her through the glittering gauzy atmosphere of flashing -wings, she was always strangely conspicuous, with her long pointed body -of brilliant chestnut-red. She came hustling forth; stopped for an -instant to comb her antenna on the edge of the foot-board; then soared -straight up into the blue, the whole swarm crowding deliriously in her -train. - -Immediately the old bee-man commenced a weird tom-tomming on his metal -bowl. “Ringing the bees” was an exact science with him. They were -supposed to fly higher or lower according to the measure of the music; -and now the great door-key beat out a slow, stately chime like a -cathedral bell. Whether this ringing of the old-time skeppists had any -real influence on the movements of a swarm has never been absolutely -determined; but there was no doubt in this case of the bee-keeper’s -perfect faith in the process, or that the bees would commence their -descent and settle, usually in one of the apple trees, very soon after -the din began. - -The rapid growth of the swarm-cluster was always one of the most -bewildering things to watch. From a little dark knot no bigger than the -clenched hand, it swelled in a moment to the size of a half-gallon -measure, growing in girth and length with inconceivable swiftness, until -the branch began to droop under its weight. A minute more, and the last -of the flying bees had joined the cluster; the stout apple-branch was -bent almost double; and the completed swarm hung within a few inches of -the ground, a long cigar-shaped mass gently swaying to and fro in the -flickering light and shade. - -The joyous trek-song of the bees, and the clanging melody of key and -basin, died down together. The old murmuring, songful quiet closed over -the garden again, as water over a cast stone. To hive a swarm thus -easily within reach was a simple matter. Soon the old bee-man had got -all snugly inside the skep, and the hive in its self-appointed station. -And already the bees were settling down to work; hovering merrily about -it, or packed in the fragrant darkness busy at comb-building, or lancing -off to the clover-fields, eager to begin the task of provisioning the new -home. - - - - -CHAPTER VI -HEREDITY IN THE BEE-GARDEN - - -WE were in the great high-road of Warrilow bee-farm, and had stopped -midway down in the heart of the waxen city. On every hand the hives -stretched away in long trim rows, and the hot June sunshine was alive -with darting bees and fragrant with the smell of new-made honey. - -“Swarming?” said the bee-master, in answer to a question I had put to -him. “We never allow swarming here. My bees have to work for me, and -not for themselves; so we have discarded that old-fashioned notion long -ago.” - -He brought his honey-barrow to a halt, and sat down ruminatively on the -handle. - -“Swarming,” he went on to explain, “is the great trouble in modern -bee-keeping. It is a bad legacy left us by the old-time skeppists. With -the ancient straw hives and the old benighted methods of working, it was -all very well. When bee-burning was the custom, and all the heaviest -hives were foredoomed to the sulphur-pit, the best bees were those that -gave the earliest and the largest swarms. The more stocks there were in -the garden the more honey there would be for market. Swarming was -encouraged in every possible way. And so, at last, the steady, -stay-at-home variety of honey-bee became exterminated, and only the -inveterate swarmers were kept to carry on the strain.” - -I quoted the time-honoured maxim about a swarm in May being worth a load -of hay. The bee-master laughed derisively. - -“To the modern bee-keeper,” he said, “a swarm in May is little short of a -disgrace. There is no clearer sign of bad beemanship nowadays than when -a strong colony is allowed to weaken itself by swarming on the eve of the -great honey-flow, just when strength and numbers are most needed. Of -course, in the old days, the maxim held true enough. The straw skeps had -room only for a certain number of bees, and when they became too crowded -there was nothing for it but to let the colonies split up in the natural -way. But the modern frame-hive, with its extending brood-chamber, does -away with that necessity. Instead of the old beggarly ten or twelve -thousand, we can now raise a population of forty or fifty thousand bees -in each hive, and so treble and quadruple the honey-harvest.” - -“But,” I asked him, “do not the bees go on swarming all the same, if you -let them?” - -“The old instincts die hard,” he said. “Some day they will learn more -scientific ways; but as yet they have not realised the change that modern -bee-keeping has made in their condition. Of course, swarming has its -clear, definite purpose, apart from that of relieving the congestion of -the stock. When a hive swarms, the old queen goes off with the flying -squadron, and a new one takes her place at home. In this way there is -always a young and vigorous queen at the head of affairs, and the -well-being of the parent stock is assured. But advanced bee-keepers, -whose sole object is to get a large honey yield, have long recognised -that this is a very expensive way of rejuvenating old colonies. The -parent hive will give no surplus honey for that season; and the swarm, -unless it is a large and very early one, will do little else than furnish -its brood-nest for the coming winter. But if swarming be prevented, and -the stock requeened artificially every two years, we keep an immense -population always ready for the great honey-flow, whenever it begins.” - -He took up the heavy barrow, laden with its pile of super-racks, and -started trundling it up the path, talking as he went. - -“If only the bees could be persuaded to leave the queen-raising to the -bee-keeper, and would attend to nothing else but the great business of -honey-getting! But they won’t—at least, not yet. Perhaps in another -hundred years or so the old wild habits may be bred out of them; but at -present it is doubtful whether they are conscious of any ‘keeping’ at -all. They go the old tried paths determinedly; and the most that we can -accomplish is to undo that part of their work which is not to our liking, -or to make a smoother road for them in the direction they themselves have -chosen.” - -“But you said just now,” I objected, “that no swarming was allowed among -your bees. How do you manage to prevent it?” - -“It is not so much a question of prevention as of cure. Each hive must -be watched carefully from the beginning. From the time the queen -commences to lay, in the first mild days of spring, we keep the size of -the brood nest just a little ahead of her requirements. Every week or -two I put in a new frame of empty combs, and when she has ten frames to -work upon, and honey is getting plentiful, I begin to put on the -store-racks above, just as I am doing now. This will generally keep them -to business; but with all the care in the world the swarming fever will -sometimes set in. And then I always treat it in this way.” - -He had stopped before one of the hives, where the bees were hanging in a -glistening brown cluster from the alighting-board; idling while their -fellows in the bee-garden seemed all possessed with a perfect fury of -work. I watched him as he lighted the smoker, a sort of bellows with a -wide tin funnel packed with chips of dry rotten wood. He stooped over -the hive, and sent three or four dense puffs of smoke into the entrance. - -“That is called subduing the bees,” he explained, “but it really does -nothing of the kind. It only alarms them, and a frightened bee always -rushes and fills herself with honey, to be ready for any emergency. She -can imbibe enough to keep her for three or four days; and once secure of -immediate want, she waits with a sort of fatalistic calm for the -development of the trouble threatening.” - -He halted a moment or two for this process to complete itself, then began -to open the hive. First the roof came off; then the woollen quilts and -square of linen beneath were gradually peeled from the tops of the -comb-frames, laying bare the interior of the hive. Out of its dim depths -came up a steady rumbling note like a train in a tunnel, but only a few -of the bees got on the wing and began to circle round our heads -viciously. The frames hung side by side, with a space of half an inch or -so between. The bee-master lifted them out carefully one by one. - -“Now, see here,” he said, as he held up the first frame in the sunlight, -with the bees clinging in thousands to it, “this end comb ought to have -nothing but honey in it, but you see its centre is covered with -brood-cells. The queen has caught the bee-man napping, and has extended -her nursery to the utmost limit of the hive. She is at the end of her -tether, and has therefore decided to swarm. Directly the bees see this -they begin to prepare for the coming loss of their queen by raising -another, and to make sure of getting one they always breed three or -four.” - -He took out the next comb and pointed to a round construction, about the -size and shape of an acorn, hanging from its lower edge. - -“That is a queen cell; and here, on the next comb, are two more. One is -sealed over, you see, and may hatch out at any moment; and the others are -nearly ready for closing. They are always carefully guarded, or the old -queen would destroy them. And now to put an end to the swarming fit.” - -He took out all the combs but the four centre ones; and, with a goose -wing, gently brushed the bees off them into the hive. The six combs were -then taken to the extricating-house hard by. The sealed honey-cells on -all of them were swiftly uncapped, and the honey thrown out by a turn or -two in the centrifugal machine. Now we went back to the hive. Right in -the centre the bee-master put a new, perfectly empty comb, and on each -side of this came the four principal brood frames with the queen still on -them. Outside of these again the combs from which we had extracted all -the honey were brought into position. And then a rack of new sections -was placed over all, and the hive quickly closed up. The entire process -seemed the work of only a few minutes. - -“Now,” said the bee-master triumphantly, as he took up his barrow again, -“we have changed the whole aspect of affairs. The population of the hive -is as big as ever; but instead of a house of plenty it is a house of -dearth. The larder is empty, and the only cure for impending famine is -hard work; and the bees will soon find that out and set to again. -Moreover, the queen has now plenty of room for laying everywhere, and -those exasperating prison-cradles, with her future rivals hatching in -them, have been done away with. She has no further reason for flight, -and the bees, having had all their preparations destroyed, have the best -of reasons for keeping her. Above all, there is the new super-rack, -greatly increasing the hive space, and they will be given a second and -third rack, or even a fourth one, long before they feel the want of it. -Every motive for swarming has been removed, and the result to the -bee-master will probably be seventy or eighty pounds of surplus honey, -instead of none at all, if the bees had been left to their old primæval -ways.” - -“You must always remember, however,” he added, as a final word, “that -bees do nothing invariably. ’Tis an old and threadbare saying amongst -bee-keepers, but there’s nothing truer under the sun. Bees have -exceptions to almost every rule. While all other creatures seem to keep -blindly to one pre-ordained way in everything they do, you can never be -certain at any time that bees will not reverse their ordinary course to -meet circumstances you may know nothing of. And that is all the more -reason why the bee-master himself should allow no deviations in his own -work about the hives: his ways must be as the ways of the Medes and -Persians.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII -NIGHT ON A HONEY-FARM - - -THE sweet summer dusk was over the bee-farm. On every side, as I passed -through, the starlight showed me the crowding roofs of the city of hives; -and beyond these I could just make out the dim outline of the -extracting-house, with a cheerful glow of lamplight streaming out from -window and door. The rumble of machinery and the voices of the -bee-master and his men grew louder as I approached. A great business -seemed to be going forward within. In the centre of the building stood a -strange-looking engine, like a brewer’s vat on legs. It was eight or -nine feet broad and some five feet high; and a big horizontal wheel lay -within the great circle, completely filling its whole circumference. As -I entered, the wheel was going round with a deep reverberating noise as -fast as two strong men could work the gearing; and the bee-master stood -close by, carefully timing the operation. - -“Halt!” he shouted. The great wheel-of-fortune stopped. A long iron bar -was pulled down and the wheel rose out of the vat. Now I could see that -its whole outer periphery was covered with frames of honeycomb, each in -its separate gauze-wire cage. The bee-master tugged a lever. The -cages—there must have been twenty-five or thirty of them—turned over -simultaneously like single leaves of a book, bringing the other side of -each comb into place. The wheel dropped down once more, and swung round -again on its giddy journey. From my place by the door I could hear the -honey driving out against the sides of the vat like heavy rain. - -“Halt!” cried the bee-master again. Once more the big wheel rose, -glistening and dripping, into the yellow lamplight. And now a trolley -was pushed up laden with more honeycomb ready for extraction. The -wire-net cages were opened, the empty combs taken out, and full ones -deftly put in their place. The wheel plunged down again into its -mellifluous cavern, and began its deep song once more. The bee-master -gave up his post to the foreman, and came towards me, wiping the honey -from his hands. He was very proud of his big extractor, and quite -willing to explain the whole process. “In the old days,” he said, “the -only way to get the honey from the comb was to press it out. You could -not obtain your honey without destroying the comb, which at this season -of the year is worth very much more than the honey itself; for if the -combs can be emptied and restored perfect to the hive, the bees will fill -them again immediately, without having to waste valuable time in the -height of the honey-flow by stopping to make new combs. And when the -bees are wax-making they are not only prevented from gathering honey, but -have to consume their own stores. While they are making one pound of -comb they will eat seventeen or eighteen pounds of honey. So the man who -hit upon the idea of drawing the honey from the comb by centrifugal force -did a splendid thing for modern bee-farming. English honey was nothing -until the extractor came and changed bee-keeping from a mere hobby into -an important industry. But come and see how the thing is done from the -beginning.” - - [Picture: “The Wax Makers”] - -He led the way towards one end of the building. Here three or four men -were at work at a long table surrounded by great stacks of honeycombs in -their oblong wooden frames. The bee-master took up one of these. -“This,” he explained, “is the bar-frame just as it comes from the hive. -Ten of them side by side exactly fill a box that goes over the hive -proper. The queen stays below in the brood-nest, but the worker bees -come to the top to store the honey. Then, every two or three days, when -the honey-flow is at its fullest, we open the super, take out the sealed -combs, and put in combs that have been emptied by the extractor. In a -few days these also are filled and capped by the bees, and are replaced -by more empty combs in the same way; and so it goes on to the end of the -honey-harvest.” - -We stood for a minute or two watching the work at the table. It went on -at an extraordinary pace. Each workman seized one of the frames and -poised it vertically over a shallow metal tray. Then, from a vessel of -steaming hot water that stood at his elbow, he drew the long, flat-headed -Bingham knife, and with one swift slithering cut removed the whole of the -cell-tappings from the surface of the comb. At once the knife was thrown -back into its smoking bath, and a second one taken out, with which the -other side of the comb was treated. Then the comb was hung in the rack -of the trolley, and the keen hot blades went to work on another frame. -As each trolley was fully loaded it was whisked off to the -extracting-machine and another took its place. - -“All this work,” explained the bee-master, as we passed on, “is done -after dark, because in the daytime the bees would smell the honey and -would besiege us. So we cannot begin extracting until they are all -safely hived for the night.” He stopped before a row of bulky cylinders. -“These,” he said, “are the honey ripeners. Each of them holds about -twenty gallons, and all the honey is kept here for three or four days to -mature before it is ready for market. If we were to send it out at once -it would ferment and spoil. In the top of each drum there are fine wire -strainers, and the honey must run through these, and finally through -thick flannel, before it gets into the cylinder. Then, when it is ripe, -it is drawn off and bottled.” - -One of the big cylinders was being tapped at the moment. A workman came -up with a kind of gardener’s water-tank on wheels. The valve of the -honey-vat was opened, and the rich fluid came gushing out like liquid -amber. “This is all white-clover honey,” said the bee-master, tasting it -critically. “The next vat there ought to be pure sainfoin. Sometimes -the honey has a distinct almond flavour; that is when hawthorn is -abundant. Honey varies as much as wine. It is good or bad according to -the soil and the season. Where the horse-chestnut is plentiful the honey -has generally a rank taste. But this is a sheep-farmers’ country, where -they grow thousands of acres of rape and lucerne and clover for -sheep-feed; and nothing could be better for the bees.” - -By this time the gardener’s barrow was full to the brim. We followed it -as it was trundled heavily away to another part of the building. Here a -little company of women were busy filling the neat glass jars, with their -bright screw-covers of tin; pasting on the label of the big London -stores, whither most of the honey was sent; and packing the jars into -their travelling-cases ready for the railway-van in the morning. The -whole place reeked with the smell of new honey and the faint, -indescribable odour of the hives. As we passed out of the busy scene of -the extracting-house into the moist dark night again, this peculiar -fragrance struck upon us overpoweringly. The slow wind was setting our -way, and the pungent odour from the hives came up on it with a solid, -almost stifling, effect. - -“They are fanning hard to-night,” said the bee-master, as we stopped -halfway down the garden. “Listen to the noise they’re making!” - -The moon was just tilting over the tree-tops. In its dim light the place -looked double its actual size. We seemed to stand in the midst of a -great town of bee-dwellings, stretching vaguely away into the darkness. -And from every hive there rose the clear deep murmur of the ventilating -bees. - -The bee-master lighted his lantern, and held it down close to the -entrance of the nearest hive. - -“Look how they form up in rows, one behind the others with their heads to -the hive; and all fanning with their wings! They are drawing the hot air -out. Inside there is another regiment of them, but those are facing the -opposite way, and drawing the cool air in. And so they keep the hive -always at the right temperature for honey-making, and for hatching out -the young bees.” - -“Who was it,” he asked ruminatively, as the gate of the bee-farm closed -at last behind us, and we were walking homeward through the glimmering -dusk of the lane—“who was it first spoke of the ‘busy bee’? Busy! ’Tis -not the word for it! Why, from the moment she is born to the day she -dies the bee never rests nor sleeps! It is hard work night and day, from -the cradle-cell to the grave; and in the honey-season she dies of it -after a month or so. It is only the drone that rests. He is very like -some humans I know of his own sex; he lives an idle life, and leaves the -work to the womenkind. But the drone has to pay for it in the end, for -the drudging woman-bee revolts sooner or later. And then she kills him. -In bee-life the drone always dies a violent death; but in human -life—well, it seems to me a little bee-justice wouldn’t be amiss with -some of them.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII -IN A BEE-CAMP - - -“’TIS a good thing—life; but ye never know how good, really, till you’ve -followed the bees to the heather.” - -It was an old saying of the bee-master’s, and it came again slowly from -his lips now, as he knelt by the camp-fire, watching the caress of the -flames round the bubbling pot. We were in the heart of the Sussex -moorland, miles away from the nearest village, still farther from the -great bee-farm where, at other times, the old man drove his thriving -trade. But the bees were here—a million of them perhaps—all singing -their loudest in the blossoming heather that stretched away on every side -to the far horizon, under the sweltering August sun. - -Getting the bees to the moors was always the chief event of the year down -at the honey-farm. For days the waggons stood by the laneside, all ready -to be loaded up with the best and most populous hives; but the exact -moment of departure depended on one very uncertain factor. The -white-clover crop was almost at an end. Every day saw the acreage of -sainfoin narrowing, as the sheep-folds closed in upon it, leaving nothing -but bare yellow waste, where had been a rolling sea of crimson blossom. -But the charlock lay on every hillside like cloth-of-gold. Until harvest -was done the fallows were safe from the ploughshare, and what proved -little else than a troublesome weed to the farmer was like golden guineas -growing to every keeper of bees. - -But at last the new moon brought a sharp chilly night with it, and the -long-awaited signal was given. Coming down with the first grey glint of -morning from the little room under the thatch, I found the bee-garden in -a swither of commotion. A faint smell of carbolic was on the air, and -the shadowy figures of the bee-master and his men were hurrying from hive -to hive, taking off the super-racks that stood on many three and four -stories high. The honey-barrows went to and fro groaning under their -burdens; and the earliest bees, roused from their rest by this unwonted -turmoil, filled the grey dusk with their high timorous note. - -The bee-master came over to me in his white overalls, a weird apparition -in the half-darkness. - -“’Tis the honey-dew,” he said, out of breath, as he passed by. “The -first cold night of summer brings it out thick on every oak-leaf for -miles around; and if we don’t get the supers off before the bees can -gather it, the honey will be blackened and spoiled for market.” - -He carried a curious bundle with him, an armful of fluttering pieces of -calico, and I followed him as he went to work on a fresh row of hives. -From each bee-dwelling the roof was thrown off, the inner coverings -removed, and one of the squares of cloth—damped with the carbolic -solution—quickly drawn over the topmost rack. A sudden fearsome buzzing -uprose within, and then a sudden silence. There is nothing in the world -a bee dreads more than the smell of carbolic acid. In a few seconds the -super-racks were deserted, the bees crowding down into the lowest depths -of the hives. The creaking barrows went down the long row in the track -of the master, taking up the heavy racks as they passed. Before the sun -was well up over the hill-brow the last load had been safely gathered in, -and the chosen hives were being piled into the waggons, ready for the -long day’s journey to the moors. - -All this was but a week ago; yet it might have been a week of years, so -completely had these rose-red highland solitudes accepted our invasion, -and absorbed us into their daily round of sun and song. Here, in a green -hollow of velvet turf, right in the heart of the wilderness, the camp had -been pitched—the white bell-tents with their skirts drawn up, showing the -spindle-legged field-bedsteads within; the filling-house, made of lath -and gauze, where the racks could be emptied and recharged with the little -white wood section-boxes, safe from marauding bees; the honey-store, with -its bee-proof crates steadily mounting one upon the other, laden with -rich brown heather-honey—the finest sweet-food in the world. And round -the camp, in a vast spreading circle, stood the hives—a hundred or -more—knee-deep in the rosy thicket, each facing outward, and each a -whirling vortex of life from early dawn to the last amber gleam of sunset -abiding under the flinching silver of the stars. - -The camp-fire crackled and hissed, and the pot sent forth a savoury steam -into the morning air. From the heather the deep chant of busy thousands -came over on the wings of the breeze, bringing with it the very spirit of -serene content. The bee-master rose and stirred the pot ruminatively. - -“B’iled rabbit!” said he, looking up, with the light of old memories -coming in his gnarled brown face. “And forty years ago, when I first -came to the heather, it used to be b’iled rabbit too. We could set a -snare in those days as well as now. But ’twas only a few hives then, a -dozen or so of old straw skeps on a barrow, and naught but the starry -night for a roof-tree, or a sack or two to keep off the rain. None of -your women’s luxuries in those times!” - -He looked round rather disparagingly at his own tent, with its plain -truckle-bed, and tin wash-bowl, and other deplorable signs of effeminate -self-indulgence. - -“But there was one thing,” he went on, “one thing we used to bring to the -moors that never comes now. And that was the basket of sulphur-rag. -When the honey-flow is done, and the waggons come to fetch us home again, -all the hives will go back to their places in the garden none the worse -for their trip. But in the old days of bee-burning never a bee of all -the lot returned from the moors. Come a little way into the long grass -yonder, and I’ll show ye the way of it.” - -With a stick he threshed about in the dry bents, and soon lay bare a row -of circular cavities in the ground. They were almost choked up with moss -and the rank undergrowth of many years but originally they must have been -each about ten inches broad by as many deep. - -“These,” said the bee-master, with a shamefaced air of confession, “were -the sulphur-pits. I dug them the first year I ever brought hives to the -heather; and here, for twenty seasons or more, some of the finest and -strongest stocks in Sussex were regularly done to death. ’Tis a drab -tale to tell, but we knew no better then. To get the honey away from the -bees looked well-nigh impossible with thousands of them clinging all over -the combs. And it never occurred to any of us to try the other way, and -get the bees to leave the honey. Yet bee-driving, ’tis the simplest -thing in the world, as every village lad knows to-day.” - -We strolled out amongst the hives, and the bee-master began his leisurely -morning round of inspection. In the bee-camp, life and work alike took -their time from the slow march of the summer sun, deliberate, -imperturbable, across the pathless heaven. The bees alone keep up the -heat and burden of the day. While they were charging in and out of the -hives, possessed with a perfect fury of labour, the long hours of -sunshine went by for us in immemorial calm. Like the steady rise and -fall of a windless tide, darkness and day succeeded one another; and the -morning splash in the dew-pond on the top of the hill, and the song by -the camp-fire at night, seemed divided only by a dim formless span too -uneventful and happy to be called by the old portentous name of Time. - -And yet every moment had its business, not to be delayed beyond its -imminent season. Down in the bee-farm the work of honey-harvesting -always carried with it a certain stress and bustle. The great -centrifugal extractor would be roaring half the night through, emptying -the super-combs, which were to be put back into the hives on the morrow, -and refilled by the bees. But here, on the moors, modern bee-science is -powerless to hurry the work of the sunshine. The thick heather-honey -defies the extracting-machine, and cannot be separated without destroying -the comb. Moorland honey—except where the wild sage is plentiful enough -to thin down the heather sweets—must be left in the virgin comb; and the -bee-man can do little more than look on as vigilantly as may be at the -work of his singing battalions, and keep the storage-space of the hives -always well in advance of their need. - -Yet there is one danger—contingent at all seasons of bee-life, but doubly -to be guarded against during the critical time of the honey-flow. - -As we loitered round the great circle, the old bee-keeper halted in the -rear of every hive to watch the contending streams of workers, the one -rippling out into the blue air and sunshine, the other setting more -steadily homeward, each bee weighed down with her load of nectar and pale -grey pollen, as she scrambled desperately through the opposing crowd and -vanished into the seething darkness within. As we passed each hive, the -old bee-man carefully noted its strength and spirit, comparing it with -the condition of its neighbours on either hand. At last he stopped by -one of the largest hives, and pointed to it significantly. - -“Can ye see aught amiss?” he asked, hastily rolling his shirt-sleeves up -to the armpit. - -I looked, but could detect nothing wrong. The multitude round the -entrance to this hive seemed larger and busier than with any other, and -the note within as deeply resonant. - -“Ay! they’re erpulous enough,” said the bee-master, as he lighted his -tin-nozzled bellows-smoker and coaxed it into full blast. “But hark to -the din! ’Tis not work this time; ’tis mortal fear of something. Flying -strong? Ah, but only a yard or two up, and back again. There’s trouble -at hand, and they’ve only just found it out. The matter is, they have -lost their queen.” - -He was hurriedly removing the different parts of the hive as he spoke. A -few quick puffs from the smoker were all that was needed at such a time. -With no thought but for the tragedy that had come upon them, the bees -were rushing madly to and fro in the hive, not paying the slightest -attention to the fact that their house was falling asunder piecemeal and -the sudden sunshine riddling it through and through, where had been -nothing but Cimmerian darkness before. Under the steady slow hand of the -master, the teeming section-racks came off one by one, until the lowest -chamber—the nursery of the hive—was reached, and a note like imprisoned -thunder in miniature burst out upon us. - -The old bee-keeper lifted out the brood-frames, and subjected each to a -lynx-eyed scrutiny. At last he dived his bare hand down into the thick -of the bees, and brought up something to show me. It was the dead queen; -twice the size of all the rest, with short oval wings and a shining -red-gold body, strangely conspicuous among the score or so of -dun-coloured workers which still crowded round her on the palm of his -hand. - -“In the old days,” said the bee-master, “before the movable-comb hive was -invented, if the queen died like this, it would throw the whole colony -out of gear for the rest of the season. Three weeks must elapse before a -new queen could be hatched and got ready for work; and then the -honey-harvest would be over. But see how precious time can be saved -under the modern system.” - -He led the way to a hive which stood some distance apart from the rest. -It was much smaller than the others, and consisted merely of a row of -little boxes, each with its separate entrance, but all under one common -roof. The old bee-man opened one of the compartments, and lifted out its -single comb-frame, on which were clustered only a few hundred bees. -Searching among these with a wary forefinger, at last he seized one by -the wings and held it up to view. - -“This is a spare queen,” said he. “’Tis always wise to bring a few to -the heather, against any mischance. And now we’ll give her to the -motherless bees; and in an hour or two the stock will be at work again as -busily as ever.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX -THE BEE-HUNTERS - - -“IN that bit of forest,” said the bee-master, indicating a long stretch -of neighbouring woodland with one comprehensive sweep of his thumb, -“there are tons of honey waiting for any man who knows how to find it.” - -I had met and stopped the old bee-keeper and his men, bent on what seemed -a rather singular undertaking. They carried none of the usual implements -of their craft, but were laden up with the paraphernalia of -woodmen—rip-saws and hatchets and climbing-irons, and a mysterious box or -two, the use of which I could not even guess at. But the bee-master soon -made his errand plain. - -“Tons of honey,” he went on. “And we are going to look for some of it. -There have been wild bees, I suppose, in the forest country from the -beginning of things. Then see how the land lies. There are villages all -round, and for ages past swarms have continually got away from the -bee-gardens, and hived themselves in the hollow trunks of the trees. -Then every year these stray colonies have sent out their own swarms -again, until to-day the woods are full of bees, wild as wolves and often -as savage, guarding stores that have been accumulating perhaps for years -and years.” - -He shifted his heavy kit from one shoulder to the other. Overhead the -sun burned in a cloudless August sky, and the willow-herb by the roadside -was full of singing bees and the flicker of white butterflies. In the -hedgerows there were more bees plundering the blackberry blossom, or -sounding their vagrant note in the white convolvulus-bells which hung in -bridal wreaths at every turn of the way. Beyond the hedgerow the yellow -cornlands flowed away over hill and dale under the torrid light; and each -scarlet poppy that hid in the rustling gold-brown wheat had its winged -musician chanting at its portal. As I turned and went along with the -expedition, the bee-master gave me more details of the coming enterprise. - -“Mind you,” he said, “this is not good beemanship as the moderns -understand it. It is nothing but bee-murder, of the old-fashioned kind. -But even if the bees could be easily taken alive, we should not want them -in the apiary. Blood counts in bee-life, as in everything else; and -these forest-bees have been too long under the old natural conditions to -be of any use among the domestic strain. However, the honey is worth the -getting, and if we can land only one big stock or two it will be a -profitable day’s work.” - -We had left the hot, dusty lane, and taken to the field-path leading up -through a sea of white clover to the woods above. - -“This is the after-crop,” said the bee-master, as he strode on ahead with -his jingling burden. “The second cut of Dutch clover always gives the -most honey. Listen to the bees everywhere—it is just like the roar of -London heard from the top of St Paul’s! And most of it here is going -into the woods, more’s the pity. Well, well; we must try to get some of -it back to-day.” - -Between the verge of the clover-field and the shadowy depths of the -forest ran a broad green waggon-way; and here we came to a halt. In the -field we had lately traversed the deep note of the bees had sounded -mainly underfoot; but now it was all above us, as the honeymakers sped to -and fro between the sunlit plane of blossom and their hidden storehouses -in the wood. The upper air was full of their music; but, straining the -sight to its utmost, not a bee could be seen. - -“And you will never see them,” said the bee-master, watching me as he -unpacked his kit. “They fly too fast and too high. And if you can’t see -them go by out here in the broad sunshine, how will you track them to -their lair through the dim light under the trees? And yet,” he went on, -“that is the only way to do it. It is useless to search the wood for -their nests; you might travel the whole day through and find nothing. -The only plan is to follow the laden bees returning to the hive. And now -watch how we do that in Sussex.” - -From one of the boxes he produced a contrivance like a flat tin saucer -mounted on top of a pointed stick. He stuck this in the ground near the -edge of the clover-field so that the saucer stood on a level with the -highest blossoms. Now he took a small bottle of honey from his pocket, -emptied it into the tin receptacle, and beckoned me to come near. -Already three or four bees had discovered this unawaited feast and -settled on it; a minute more and the saucer was black with crowding bees. -Now the bee-master took a wire-gauze cover and softly inverted it over -the saucer. Then, plucking his ingenious trap up by the roots, he set -off towards the forest with his prisoners, followed by his men. - -“These,” said he, “are our guides to the secret treasure-chamber. -Without them we might look for a week and never find it. But now it is -all plain sailing, as you’ll see.” - -He pulled up on the edge of the wood. By this time every bee in the trap -had forsaken the honey, and was clambering about in the top of the -dome-shaped lid, eager for flight. - -“They are all full of honey,” said the bee-master, “and the first thing a -fully-laden bee thinks of is home. And now we will set the first one on -the wing.” - -He opened a small valve in the trap-cover, and allowed one of the bees to -escape. She rose into the air, made a short circle, then sped away into -the gloom of the wood. In a moment she was lost to sight, but the main -direction of her course was clear; and we all followed helter-skelter -until our leader called another halt. - -“Now watch this one,” he said, pressing the valve again. - -This time the guide rose high into the dim air, and was at once lost to -my view. But the keen eyes of the old bee-man had challenged her. - -“There she goes!” he said, pointing down a long shadowy glade somewhat to -his left. “Watch that bit of sunlight away yonder!” - -I followed this indication. Through the dense wood-canopy a hundred feet -away the sun had thrust one long golden tentacle; and I saw a tiny spark -of light flash through into the gloom beyond. We all stampeded after it. - -Another and another of the guides was set free, each one taking us deeper -into the heart of the forest, until at last the bee-master suddenly -stopped and held up his hand. - -“Listen!” he said under his breath. - -Above the rustling of the leaves, above the quiet stir of the undergrowth -and the crooning of the stock-doves, a shrill insistent note came over to -us on the gentle wind. The bee-man led the way silently into the darkest -depths of the wood. Halting, listening, going swiftly forward in turn, -at last he stopped at the foot of an old decayed elm-stump. The shrill -note we had heard was much louder now, and right overhead. Following his -pointing forefinger, I saw a dark cleft in the old trunk about twenty -feet above; and round this a cloud of bees was circling, filling the air -with their rich deep labour-song. At the same instant, with a note like -the twang of a harp-string, a bee came at me and fastened a red-hot -fish-hook into my cheek. The old bee-keeper laughed. - -“Get this on as soon as you can,” he said, producing a pocketful of -bee-veils, and handing me one from the bunch. “These are wild bees, -thirty thousand of them, maybe; and we shall need all our armour to-day. -Only wait till they find us out! But now rub your hands all over with -this.” - -Every man scrambled into his veil, and anointed his hands with the oil of -wintergreen—the one abiding terror of vindictive bees. And then the real -business of the day commenced. - -The bee-master had strapped on his climbing-irons. Now he struck his way -slowly up the tree, tapping the wood with the butt-end of a hatchet inch -by inch as he went. At last he found what he wanted. The trunk rang -hollow about a dozen feet from the ground. Immediately he began to cut -it away. The noise of the hatchet woke all the echoes of the forest. -The chips came fluttering to the earth. The rich murmur overhead changed -to an angry buzzing. In a moment the bees were on the worker in a vortex -of humming fury, covering his veil, his clothes, his hands. But he -worked on unconcernedly until he had driven a large hole through the -crust of the tree and laid bare the glistening honeycomb within. Now I -saw him take from a sling-bag at his side handful after handful of some -yellow substance and heap it into the cavity he had made. Then he struck -a match, lighted the stuff, and came sliding swiftly to earth again. We -all drew off and waited. - -“That,” explained the bee-master, as he leaned on his woodman’s axe out -of breath, “is cotton-waste, soaked in creosote, and then smothered in -powdered brimstone. See! it is burning famously. The fumes will soon -fill the hollow of the tree and settle the whole company. Then we shall -cut away enough of the rotten wood above to get all the best of the combs -out; there are eighty pounds of good honey up there, or I’m no bee-man. -And then it’s back to the clover-field for more guide-bees, and away on a -new scent.” - - - - -CHAPTER X -THE PHYSICIAN IN THE HIVE - - -IT was a strange procession coming up the red-tiled path of the bee -garden. The bee-master led the way in his Sunday clothes, followed by a -gorgeous footman, powdered and cockaded, who carried an armful of wraps -and cushions. Behind him walked two more, supporting between them a kind -of carrying-chair, in which sat a florid old gentleman in a Scotch plaid -shawl; and behind these again strode a silk-hatted, black-frocked man -carefully regulating the progress of the cavalcade. Through the rain of -autumn leaves, on the brisk October morning, I could see, afar off, a -carriage waiting by the lane-side; a big old-fashioned family vehicle, -with cockaded servants, a pair of champing greys, and a glitter of gold -and scarlet on the panel, where the sunbeams struck on an elaborate -coat-of-arms. - -The whole procession made for the extracting-house, and all work stopped -at its approach. The great centrifugal machine ceased its humming. The -doors of the packing-room were closed, shutting as the din of saw and -hammer. Over the stone floor in front of the furnace—where a big caldron -of metheglin was simmering—a carpet was hastily unrolled, and a -comfortable couch brought out and set close to the cheery blaze. - -And now the strangest part of the proceedings commenced. The old -gentleman was brought in, partially disrobed, and transferred to the -couch by the fireside. He seemed in great trepidation about something. -He kept his gold eyeglasses turned on the bee-master, watching him with a -sort of terrified wonder, as the old bee-man produced a mysterious box, -with a lid of perforated zinc, and laid it on the table close by. From -my corner the whole scene was strongly reminiscent of the ogre’s kitchen -in the fairy-tale; and the muffled sounds from the packing-room might -have been the voice of the ogre himself, complaining at the lateness of -his dinner. - -Now, at a word from the black-coated man, the bee-master opened his box. -A loud angry buzzing uprose, and about a dozen bees escaped into the air, -and flew straight for the window-glass. The bee-master followed them, -took one carefully by the wings, and brought it over to the old -gentleman. His apprehensions visibly redoubled. The doctor seized him -in an iron, professional grip. - -“Just here, I think. Close under the shoulder-blade. Now, your lordship -. . . ” - -Viciously the infuriated bee struck home. For eight or ten seconds she -worked her wicked will on the patient. Then, turning round and round, -she at last drew out her sting, and darted back to the window. - -But the bee-master was ready with another of his living stilettos. Half -a dozen times the operation was repeated on various parts of the -suffering patient’s body. Then the old gentleman—who, by this time, had -passed from whimpering through the various stages of growing indignation -to sheer undisguised profanity—was restored to his apparel. The -procession was re-formed, and the bee-master conducted it to the waiting -carriage, with the same ceremony as before. - -As we stood looking after the retreating vehicle, the old bee-man entered -into explanations. - -“That,” said he, “is Lord H—, and he has been a martyr to rheumatism -these ten years back. I could have cured him long ago if he had only -come to me before, as I have done many a poor soul in these parts; but -he, and those like him, are the last to hear of the physician in the -hive. He will begin to get better now, as you will see. He is to be -brought here every fortnight; but in a month or two he will not need the -chair. And before the winter is out he will walk again as well as the -best of us.” - -We went slowly back through the bee-farm. The working-song of the bees -seemed as loud as ever in the keen October sunshine. But the steady deep -note of summer was gone; and the peculiar bee-voice of autumn—shrill, -anxious, almost vindictive—rang out on every side. - -“Of course,” continued the bee-master, “there is nothing new in this -treatment of rheumatism by bee-stings. It is literally as old as the -hills. Every bee-keeper for the last two thousand years has known of it. -But it is as much as a preventive as a cure that the acid in a bee’s -sting is valuable. The rarest thing in the world is to find a bee-keeper -suffering from rheumatism. And if every one kept bees, and got stung -occasionally, the doctors would soon have one ailment the less to trouble -about.” - -“But,” he went on, “there is something much pleasanter and more valuable -to humanity, ill or well, to be got from the hives. And that is the -honey itself. Honey is good for old and young. If mothers were wise -they would never give their children any other sweet food. Pure ripe -honey is sugar with the most difficult and most important part of -digestion already accomplished by the bees. Moreover, it is a safe and -very gentle laxative. And probably, before each comb-cell is sealed up, -the bee injects a drop of acid from her sting. Anyway, honey has a -distinct aseptic property. That is why it is so good for sore throats or -chafed skins.” - -We had got back to the extracting house, where the great caldron of -metheglin was still bubbling over the fire. The old bee-keeper relieved -himself of his stiff Sunday coat, donned his white linen overalls, and -fell to skimming the pot. - -“There is another use,” said he, after a ruminative pause, “to which -honey might be put, if only doctors could be induced to seek curative -power in ancient homely things, as they do with the latest new poisons -from Germany. That is in the treatment of obesity. Fat people, who are -ordered to give up sugar, ought to use honey instead. In my time I have -persuaded many a one to try it, and the result has always been the same—a -steady reduction in weight, and better health all round. Then, again, -dyspeptic folk would find most of their troubles vanish if they -substituted the already half-digested honey wherever ordinary sugar forms -part of their diet. And did you ever try honey to sweeten tea or coffee? -Of course, it must be pure, and without any strongly-marked flavour; but -no one would ever return to sugar if once good honey had been tried in -this way, or in any kind of cookery where sugar is used.” - -The bee-master ran his fingers through his hair, of which he had a -magnificent iron-grey crop. The fingers were undeniably sticky; but it -was an old habit of his, when in thoughtful mood, and the action seemed -to remind him of something. His eyes twinkled merrily. - -“Now,” said he, “you are a writer for the papers, and you may therefore -want to go into the hair-restoring business some day. Well, here is a -recipe for you. It is nothing but honey and water, in equal parts, but -it is highly recommended by all the ancient writers on beemanship. Have -I tried it? Well, no; at least, not intentionally. But in extracting -honey it gets into most places, the hair not excepted. At any rate, -honey as a hair-restorer was one of the most famous nostrums of the -Middle Ages, and may return to popular favour even now. However, here is -something there can be no question about.” - -He went to a cupboard, and brought out a jar full of a viscid yellow -substance. - -“This,” he said, “is an embrocation, and it is the finest thing I know -for sprains and bruises. It is made of the wax from old combs, dissolved -in turpentine, and if we got nothing else from the hives bee-keeping -would yet be justified as a humanitarian calling. Its virtues may be in -the wax, or they may be due to the turpentine, but probably they lie in -another direction altogether. Bees collect a peculiar resinous matter -from pine trees and elsewhere, with which they varnish the whole surface -of their combs, and this may be the real curative element in the stuff.” - -Now, with a glance at the clock, the bee-master went to the open door and -hailed his foreman in from his work about the garden. Between them they -lifted away the heavy caldron from the fire, and tilted its steaming -contents into a barrel close at hand. The whole building filled at once -with a sweet penetrating odour, which might well have been the -concentrated fragrance of every summer flower on the countryside. - -“But of all the good things given us by the wise physician of the hive,” -quoth the old bee-keeper, enthusiastically, “there is nothing so good as -well-brewed metheglin. This is just as I have made it for forty years, -and as my father made it long before that. Between us we have been -brewing mead for more than a century. It is almost a lost art now; but -here in Sussex there are still a few antiquated folk who make it, and -some, even, who remember the old methers—the ancient cups it used to be -quaffed from. As an everyday drink for working-men, wholesome, -nourishing, cheering, there is nothing like it in or out of the Empire.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI -WINTER WORK ON THE BEE-FARM - - -THE light snow covered the path through the bee-farm, and whitened the -roof of every hive. In the red winter twilight it looked more like a -human city than ever, with its long double rows of miniature houses -stretching away into the dusk on either hand, and its broad central -thoroughfare, where the larger hives crowded shoulder to shoulder, -casting their black shadows over the glimmering snow. - -The bee-master led the way towards the extracting-house at the end of the -garden, as full of his work, seemingly, as ever he had been in the press -of summer days. There was noise enough going on in the long lighted -building ahead of us, but I missed the droning song of the great -extractor itself. - - [Picture: “Hard Times for the Bees”] - -“No; we have done with honey work for this year,” said the old bee-man. -“It is all bottled and cased long ago, and most of it gone to London. -But there’s work enough still, as you’ll see. The bees get their long -rest in the winter; but, on a big honey-farm, the humans must work all -the year round.” - -As we drew into the zone of light from the windows, many sounds that from -afar had seemed incongruous enough on the silent, frost-bound evening -began to explain themselves. The whole building was full of busy life. -A furnace roared under a great caldron of smoking syrup, which the -foreman was vigorously stirring. In the far corner an oil engine clanked -and spluttered. A circular saw was screaming through a baulk of timber, -slicing it up into thin planks as a man would turn over the leaves of a -book. Planing machines and hammers and handsaws innumerable added their -voices to the general chorus; and out of the shining steel jaws of an -implement that looked half printing-press and half clothes-wringer there -flowed sheet after sheet of some glistening golden material, the use of -which I could only dimly guess at. - -But I had time only for one swift glance at this mysterious monster. The -bee-master gripped me by the arm and drew me towards the furnace. - -“This is bee-candy,” he explained, “winter food for the hives. We make a -lot of it and send it all over the country. But it’s ticklish work. -When the syrup comes to the galloping-point it must boil for one minute, -no more and no less. If we boil it too little it won’t set, and if too -much it goes hard, and the bees can’t take it.” - -He took up his station now, watch in hand, close to the man who was -stirring, while two or three others looked anxiously on. - -“Time!” shouted the bee-master. - -The great caldron swung off the stove on its suspending chain. Near the -fire stood a water tank, and into this the big vessel of boiling syrup -was suddenly doused right up to the brim, the stirrer labouring all the -time at the seething grey mass more furiously than ever. - -“The quicker we can cool it the better it is,” explained the old -bee-keeper, through the steam. He was peering into the caldron as he -spoke, watching the syrup change from dark clear grey to a dirty white, -like half-thawed snow. Now he gave a sudden signal. A strong rod was -instantly passed through the handles of the caldron. The vessel was -whisked out of its icy bath and borne rapidly away. Following hard upon -its heels, we saw the bearers halt near some long, low trestle-tables, -where hundreds of little wooden boxes were ranged side by side. Into -these the thick, sludgy syrup was poured as rapidly as possible, until -all were filled. - -“Each box,” said the bee-master, as we watched the candy gradually -setting snow-white in its wooden frames, “each box holds about a pound. -The box is put into the hive upside-down on the top of the comb-frames, -just over the cluster of bees; and the bottom is glazed because then you -can see when the candy is exhausted, and the time has come to put on -another case. What is it made of? Well, every maker has his own private -formula, and mine is a secret like the rest. But it is sugar, -mostly—cane-sugar. Beet-sugar will not do; it is injurious to the bees. - -“But candy-making,” he went on, as we moved slowly through the populous -building, “is by no means the only winter work on a bee-farm. There are -the hives to make for next season; all those we shall need for ourselves, -and hundreds more we sell in the spring, either empty or stocked with -bees. Then here is the foundation mill.” - -He turned to the contrivance I had noticed on my entry. The thin amber -sheets of material, like crinkled glass, were still flowing out between -the rollers. He took a sheet of it as it fell, and held it up to the -light. A fine hexagonal pattern covered it completely from edge to edge. - -“This,” he said, “we call super-foundation. It is pure refined wax, -rolled into sheets as thin as paper, and milled on both sides with the -shapes of the cells. All combs now are built by the bees on this -artificial foundation; and there is enough wax here, thin as it is, to -make the entire honeycomb. The bees add nothing to it, but simply knead -it and draw it out into a comb two inches wide; and so all the time -needed for wax-making by the bees is saved just when time is most -precious—during the short season of the honey-flow.” - -He took down a sheet from another pile close at hand. - -“All that thin foundation,” he explained, “is for section-honey, and will -be eaten. But this you could not eat. This is brood-foundation, made -extra strong to bear the great heat of the lower hive. It is put into -the brood-nest, and the cells reared on it are the cradles for the young -bees. See how dense and brown it is, and how thick; it is six or seven -times as heavy as the other. But it is all pure wax, though not so -refined, and is made in the same way, serving the same useful, -time-saving purpose.” - -We moved on towards the store-rooms, out of the clatter of the machinery. - -“It was a great day,” he said, reflectively, “a great day for bee-keeping -when foundation was invented. The bee-man who lets his hives work on the -old obsolete natural system nowadays makes a hopeless handicap of things. -Yet the saving of time and bee-labour is not the only, and is hardly the -most important, outcome of the use of foundation. It has done a great -deal more than that, for it has solved the very weighty problem of how to -keep the number of drones in a hive within reasonable limits.” - -He opened the door of a small side-room. From ceiling to floor the walls -were covered with deep racks loaded with frames of empty comb, all ready -for next season. Taking down a couple of the frames, he brought them out -into the light. - -“These will explain to you what I mean,” said he. “This first one is a -natural-built comb, made without the milled foundation. The centre and -upper part, you see, is covered on both sides with the small cells of the -worker-brood. But all the rest of the frame is filled with larger cells, -and in these only drones are bred. Bees, if left to themselves, will -always rear a great many more drones than are needed; and as the drones -gather no stores but only consume them in large quantities, a -superabundance of the male-bees in a hive must mean a diminished -honey-yield. But the use of foundation has changed all that. Now look -at this other frame. By filling all brood-frames with worker-foundation, -as has been done here, we compel the bees to make only small cells, in -which the rearing of drones is almost impossible; and so we keep the -whole brood-space in the hive available for the generation of the working -bee alone.” - -“But,” I asked him, “are not drones absolutely necessary in a hive? The -population cannot increase without the male bees.” - -“Good drones are just as important in a bee-garden as high-mettled, -prolific queens,” he said; “and drone-breeding on a small scale must form -part of the work on every modern bee-farm of any size. But my own -practice is to confine the drones to two or three hives only. These are -stationed in different parts of the farm. They are always selected -stocks of the finest and most vigorous strain, and in them I encourage -drone-breeding in every possible way. But the male bees in all -honey-producing hives are limited to a few hundreds at most.” - -Coming out into the darkness from the brilliantly-lighted building, we -had gone some way on our homeward road through the crowded bee-farm -before we marked the change that had come over the sky. Heavy vaporous -clouds were slowly driving up from the west and blotting the stars out -one by one. All their frosty sparkle was gone, and the night air had no -longer the keen tooth of winter in it. The bee-master held up his hand. - -“Listen!” he said. “Don’t you hear anything?” - -I strained my ears to their utmost pitch. A dog barked forlornly in the -distant village. Some night-bird went past overhead with a faint -jangling cry. But the slumbering bee-city around us was as silent and -still as death. - -“When you have lived among bees for forty years,” said the bee-master, -plodding on again, “you may get ears as long as mine. Just reckon it -out. The wind has changed; that curlew knows the warm weather is coming; -but the bees, huddled together in the midst of a double-walled hive, -found it out long ago. Now, there are between three and four hundred -hives here. At a very modest computation, there must be as many bees -crowded together on these few acres of land as there are people in the -whole of London and Brighton combined. And they are all awake, and -talking, and telling each other that the cold spell is past. That is -what I can hear now, and shall hear—down in the house yonder—all night -long.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII -THE QUEEN BEE: IN ROMANCE AND REALITY - - -“QUEENS?” said the Bee-Master of Warrilow, as he filled his pipe with the -blackest and strongest tobacco I had ever set eyes on; “queens? There -are hundreds of hives here, as you can see; and there isn’t a queen in -any one of them.” - -He drew at the pipe until he had coaxed it into full blast, and the smoke -went drifting idly away through the still April sunshine. We were in the -very midst of the bee-garden, sitting side by side on the honey-barrow -after a long morning’s work among the hives; and the old bee-man had -lapsed into his usual contemplative mood. - -“’Tis a pretty idea,” he went on, “this of royalty, and a realm of -dutiful subjects, and all the rest of it, in bee-life. But experience in -apiculture, as with most things of this world, does away with a good many -fine and fanciful notions. Now, the mother-bee in a hive, whatever else -you might call her, is certainly not a queen, in the sense of ruling over -the other bees in the colony. The truth is she has little or nothing to -do with the direction of affairs. All the thinking and contriving is -done by the worker-bees. They have the whole management of the hive, and -simply look upon the queen as a much prized and carefully-guarded piece -of egg-laying machinery, to be made the most of as long as her usefulness -lasts, but to be thrown over and replaced by another the moment her -powers begin to flag.” - -“No; there are no queens, properly so called, in bee-life,” he continued. -“All that belongs to the good old times when there were nothing but -straw-skeps, and ’twas well-nigh impossible to get at the rights of -anything; so the bee-keeper went on believing that honey was made out of -starshine, and young bees were bred from the juice of white honeysuckle, -which was all pretty enough in its way, even though it warn’t true. But -nowadays, when they make hives with comb-frames that can be lifted out -and looked at in the broad light of day, folk are beginning to understand -a power of things about bees that were dark mysteries only a while ago.” - -He puffed at his pipe for a little in silence. Far away over the great -province of hives, the clock on the extracting-house pointed to half-past -twelve; and, true to their usual time, the home-staying bees—the -housekeepers and nurses and lately hatched young ones—were out for their -midday exercise. The foragers were going to and fro as thickly as ever -with their loads of pollen and water for the still cradled larvæ within; -but now round every hive a little cloud of bees hovered, filling the -sunshine with the drowsy music of their wings. The old bee-man took up -his theme again presently at the point he had broken it off. - -“If,” said he, “you keep a fairly close watch on the progress of any one -particular hive, from the time the first eggs appear in the combs early -in January, ’tis very easy to see how the old false ideas got into -general use. At first glance a bee-colony looks very much like a -kingdom; and the single large bee, that all the others pay court to and -attend so carefully, seems very like a queen. Then, when you look a -little deeper and begin to understand more, appearances are still all in -favour of the old view of things. The mother-bee seems, on the face of -it, a miracle of intelligence and foresight. While, as far as you know, -all other creatures in the world bring forth their young of both sexes -haphazard, this one can lay male or female eggs apparently at will. You -watch her going from comb to comb, and the eggs she drops in the small -cells hatch out females, and those she puts in the larger ones are always -males, or drones. More than that: she seems always to know the exact -condition of the hive, and to be able to limit her egg-laying according -to its need, or otherwise, of population; for either you see her filling -only a few cells each day in a little patch of comb that can be covered -with the palm of your hand, or she goes to work on a gigantic scale, and, -in twenty-four hours, produces eggs that weigh more than twice as much as -her whole body.” - -He got up now and began pacing to and fro, as was his custom when much in -earnest over his bee-talk. - -“Then,” he went on, “to cap all, as the honey season draws on to its -height, you are forced presently to realise that the queen has conceived -and is carrying through a scheme for the good of her subjects that would -do credit to the wisest ruler ever born in human purple. Every day of -summer sunshine has brought thousands of young bees to life. The hive is -getting overcrowded. Sooner or later one of two things must -happen—either the increase of population must be checked, or a great -party must be formed to leave the old home and go out to establish -another one. Then it is that the mother-bee seems to prove beyond a -doubt her wisdom and queenliness. She decides for the emigration; but as -a leader must be found for the party, and none is at hand, she forms the -resolve to head it herself. From that moment a change comes over the -whole hive. Preparation for the coming event goes on fast and furiously, -and excitement increases day by day. But the queen seems to forget -nothing. A new ruler for the old realm must be provided to take her -place when she is gone for ever; and now you see a party of bees set to -work on something that fairly beggars curiosity. At first it looks -exactly like an acorn-cup in wax hanging from the under-edge of the comb. -Perhaps the next time you look the cup has grown to twice its original -size; and now you see it is half full of a glistening white jelly. The -next time, maybe, you open the hive, the acorn has been added to the cup; -the queen-cell is sealed over and finished, and about a week later there -comes out a full-grown queen bee, twice the size of the ordinary worker -and quite different in shape and often in colour too. But days before -the new ruler is ready the excitement in the hive has grown to -fever-pitch. If you come out then in the quiet of the night and put your -ear close to the hive, you will hear a shrill piping noise which the -ancient skeppists tell you is the old queen calling her subjects together -for the swarm on the morrow. And, sure enough, out she goes with half -the population of the hive in her train, to look for a new home; and in a -day or so the new queen comes out of her cell to take charge of the -colony.” - -He paused to fill the old briar pipe again, lighting it with slow -deliberate puffs, and I could not help marking how nearly alike in colour -were the bowl and his rugged, sunburnt, clever face. - -“But now, look you!” said he, suddenly levelling the pipe-stem like a -pistol at me to emphasise his words. “If the mother-bee really brought -all this about, queen would not be a good enough name for her. But the -truth is, throughout all the wonder-workings of the hive, the queen is -little more than an instrument, a kind of automaton, merely doing what -the workers compel her to do. They are the real queens in the hive, and -the mother-bee is the one and only subject. Did you ever think what a -queen-bee actually is, and how she comes to be there at all? The fact is -that the workers have made her for their own wise purposes, just as they -make the comb and the honey to store in it. The egg she is hatched from -is in no way different from any worker-egg. If you take one from a -queen-cell and put it in the ordinary comb, it will hatch out a common -female worker-bee: and an egg transferred from worker-comb to a -queen-cell becomes a full-grown queen. Thousands and thousands of -worker-eggs are laid in a hive during the season, and each of those could -be made into a queen if the workers chose. But the worker-egg is laid -into a small cell, and the larva is bred on a bare minimum of food, at -the least possible cost in time, trouble, and space to the hive; while, -when a new queen is wanted, a cell as big as your finger-top is built, -and the larva is stuffed like a prize-pig through all its five days of -active life, until, with unlimited food and time and room to grow in, it -comes out at last a perfect mother-bee.” - -“But,” I asked him, “how is the population in the hive regulated, and how -can the apportionment of the sexes be brought about? If, as you say, the -queen does only what she is made to do by the workers, and that -unthinkingly and mechanically, you only increase the difficulty of the -problem.” - -“As for increasing or restricting the number of eggs laid,” he said, -“that is only a question of food; and here you see how the workers -control the mother-bee entirely, and, through her, the whole condition of -the hive. When she is egg-laying they feed her from their own mouths -with special predigested food; and the more she gets of this, the more -eggs are laid. But when the season is done, and the need for a large -population over, this rich stimulating diet is kept from her. She then -must go to the honey-cells like the rest, or starve; and at once her -egg-laying powers begin to fall off. And it is in exactly the same -way—by their management of the queen—that the workers control the -proportion of the sexes in a hive. ’Tis more difficult to explain, but -here is about the rights of it. Directly the new-hatched queen-bee is -ready for work, she flies out to meet the drones; and one impregnation -lasts her whole life through. But the eggs themselves are not fertilised -until the very moment of laying, and then only in the case of those laid -in worker-comb: drone-eggs are never impregnated at all. Now, in all -likelihood, as the queen is being driven over the combs, it is the size -of the cell that determines whether the egg laid shall be male or female. -When the queen thrusts her long pointed body into the narrow worker-cell, -her position is a straight, upright one, and the egg cannot be laid -without passing over the impregnation-gland; but with the larger -drone-cell the queen has room to curve herself, which is the means, I -think, of the egg escaping without being fertilised. And so you see it -is only the female bee that has two parents; the drone has no father at -all.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII -THE SONG OF THE HIVES - - -FROM the lane, where it dipped down between its rose-mantled hedges, -nothing of the bee-garden could be seen. The dense barricade of briar -and hawthorn hid all but the lichened roof of the ancient dwelling-house; -and strangers going by on their way to the village saw nothing of the -crowding hives, and marked little else than the usual busy murmur of -insect-life common to any sunny day in June. - -But when they came out of the green tunnel of hedgerows into the open -fields beyond, chance wayfarers always stopped and looked about them -wonderingly, at length fixing a puzzled glance intently on the blue sky -itself. At this corner, and nowhere else, seemingly, the air was full of -a deep, reverberant music. A steady torrent of rich sound streamed by -overhead; and yet, to the untutored observer, the most diligent scrutiny -failed to reveal its origin. A few gnats harped in the sunbeams. Now -and again a bumble-bee struck a deep chord or two in the wayside herbage -underfoot. But this clear, strong voice from the skies was altogether -unexplainable. To human sight, at least, the blue air and sunshine held -nothing to account for it; and the stranger unversed in honey-bee lore, -after taking his fill of this melodious mystery, generally ended by -giving up the problem as insoluble, and passing on to his business or -pleasure in the little green-garlanded hamlet under the hill. - -That the bees of a fairly large apiary should produce a considerable -volume of sound in their passage to and fro between the hives and the -honey-pastures is in no way remarkable. In the heyday of the year—the -brief six weeks’ honey-flow of the English summer—probably each normal -colony of bees would send out an army of foragers at least twenty -thousand strong. What really seems matter for wonder is the way in which -bees appear to concentrate their movements to certain well-defined tracks -in the atmosphere. They do not distribute themselves broadcast over the -intervening space, as they might be expected to do, but wonderfully keep -to certain definite restricted thoroughfares, no matter how near or how -remote their foraging grounds may be. - -And this particular gap in the chain of hedgerows really marked the great -main highway for the bees between the hives and the clover-fields -silvering the whole wide stretch of hill and dale beyond. Every moment -had its winged thousands going and returning. At any time, if a fine net -could have been cast suddenly a few fathoms upward, it would have fallen -to earth black and heavy with bees; but the singing multitude went by at -so fast and furious a pace that, to the keenest sight, not one of the -eager crew was visible. Only the sound of their going was plain to all; -a mighty tenor note abroad in the sunshine, a thronging sustained melody -that never ceased all through the heat and burthen of the glittering -summer’s day. - -When Shelley heard the “yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,” and he of Avonside -wrote of “singing masons building roofs of gold,” probably neither -thought of the humming of the hive-bee as anything more than an -ingredient in the general delightful country chorus, as distinct from the -less-inspiring labour-note of busy humanity in a town. With the single -exception, perhaps, of Wordsworth, poets, thinking most of their line, -commonly miss the subtler phases of wild life, such as the continually -changing emphasis and capricious variation in bird song, the real sound -made by growth, or the unceasing movement of things conventionally held -to be inert. And in the same way the endlessly varied song of the bees -has been epitomised by imaginative writers generally into a sound, -pleasantly arcadian enough, but little more suggestive of life and -meaning than the hum of telegraph wires in a breeze. - -Yet there are few sounds in nature more bewilderingly complex than this. -For every season in the year the song of the hives has its own distinct -appropriate quality, and this, again, is constantly influenced by the -time of day, and even by the momentary aspect of the weather. A -bee-keeper of the old school—and he is sure to be the “character,” the -quaint original of a village—manages his hives as much by ear as by -sight. The general note of each hive reveals to him intuitively its -progress and condition. He seems to know what to expect on almost any -day in the year, so that if Rip van Winkle had been an apiarist the -nearest bee-garden would have been as sure a guide to him, in respect of -the time of year at least, as the sun’s declining arc in the heaven is to -the tired reapers in respect of the hour of day. - -Most people—and with these must be included even lifelong -country-dwellers—are wont to regard the humming of the hive-bee as a -simple monotone, produced entirely by the rapid movement of the wings. -But this conception halts very far short of the actual truth. In -reality, the sound made by a honey-bee is threefold. It can consist -either of a single tone, a combination of two notes, or even a grand -triple chord, heard principally in moments of excitement, such as when a -swarming-party is on the wing, or in late autumn and early spring, when -civil war will often break out in an ill-managed apiary. The actual -buzzing sound is produced by the wings; the deeper musical tones by the -air alternately sucked in and driven out through the spiracles, which are -breathing-tubes ranged along each side of a bee’s body; while the shrill, -clarinet-like note comes from the true voice-apparatus itself. In -ordinary flight it is the wings and the respiration-tubes conjointly -which produce the steady volume of sound heard as the honey-makers stream -over the hedgetop towards the distant clover-fields; and this is the note -also that pervades the bee-garden through every sunny hour of the -working-day. The rich, soft murmur coming from the spiracles is probably -never heard except when the bee is flying, but both the true voice and -the whirring wing-melody are familiar as separate sounds to every -bee-keeper who studies his hives. - -When the summer night has shut down warm and still over the red dusk of -evening, and the last airy loiterer is safely home from the fields, a -curious change comes to the bee-garden. The old analogy between a -concourse of hives and a human city is, at this season, utterly at fault. -Silence and rest after the day’s work may be the portion of the larger -community, but in the time of the great honey-flow there is neither rest -nor slumber for the bees. A fury of labour possesses them, one and all; -and darkness does not remit, but merely transposes the scene of their -activity. Coming out into the garden at this hour for a quiet pipe among -the hives—an old and favourite habit with most bee-keeping veterans—the -new spirit abroad is at once manifest. The sulky, fragrant darkness is -silent, quiet with the influence of the starshine overhead; but the very -earth of the footway seems to vibrate with the imprisoned energy of the -hives. This is the time when the low, rustling roar of wing-music can -best be heard, and one of the most wonderful phases of bee-life studied. -The problem of the ventilation of human hives is attacked commonly on one -main principle—unstinted ingress for fresh air and a like abundant means -of outward passage for the bad. But, if the bees are to be credited, -modern sanitary scientists are trimming altogether on the wrong tack. A -colony of bees will allow one aperture, and one alone, in the hive, to -serve all and every purpose. If the enterprising novice in beemanship -gimlets a row of ventilation-holes in the back of his hive—an idea that -occurs to most tyros in apiculture—the bees will infallibly seal them all -up again before morning. They work on entirely different principles, -impelled by their especial needs. The economy of the hive requires the -temperature to be absolutely and immediately within the control of the -bees, and this is only possible when the ventilatory system is entirely -mechanical. The evaporation of moisture from the new-gathered nectar, -and the hatching of the young brood, necessitate an amount of heat much -less than that required for wax-generating; as soon as the wax-makers -begin to cluster the temperature of the hive is at once increased. But -if a current of air were continually passing through the hive these -necessary heat variations would be difficult to manage, even supposing -them possible at all; so the bees have invented their unique system of a -single passageway, combined with an ingenious and complicated process of -fanning, by which the fresh air is sucked in at one side of the entrance -and the foul air drawn out at the other, the atmosphere of the hive being -thus maintained in a constant state of circulation, fast or slow, -according to the temperature needed. - -In the hot summer weather these fanning-parties are at work continuously, -being relieved by others at intervals of a few minutes throughout the -day. But at night, when the whole population of the hive is at home, the -need for ventilation is greatly augmented, and then the open lines of -fanners often stretch out over the alighting-board six or seven ranks -deep, making an harmonious uproar that, on a still night, will travel -incredible distances. - -This tense, forceful labour-song of the bee-garden, heard unremittingly -throughout the hours of darkness, is always pleasant, often indescribably -soothing in its effect. But it is essentially a communal note, -expressive only of the well or ill being of the hive at large. The -individuality, even personal idiosyncrasy, which undoubtedly exists among -bees, finds its utterance mainly through the true voice-organ. You -cannot stand for long, here, in the quiet of the summer night, listening -to one particular hive, without sooner or later becoming aware of other -sounds, in addition to the general musical hubbub of the fanning army. -It is evident that a nervous, high-strung spirit pervades the colony, -especially during the season of the great honey-flow. Their common -agreement on all main issues does not prevent these “virgin daughters of -toil” from engaging in sundry sharp altercations and mutual hustlings in -the course of their business; and, at times of threatening weather, a -tendency towards snappishness, and a whimsical perversity -characteristically feminine, seem to make up the prevailing tone. It is -during these chance forays that the true voice of the honey-bee, apart -from the sounds made by wing and spiracle, can best be differentiated. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV -CONCERNING HONEY - - -THE bee-keepers in English villages to-day are all familiar—too familiar -at times—with the holiday-making stranger at the garden gate inquiring -for honey. Somehow or other the demand for this old natural sweet-food -appears to have greatly increased of recent years among wandering -townsfolk in the country. A competent bee-master, dealing with a large -number of combs, will not mingle them indiscriminately, but will -unerringly assort them, so that he will have perhaps at the end of the -season almost as many kinds of honey in store as there are fields on his -countryside. I speak, of course, not of the large bee-farmer—who, -employing of necessity wholesale methods, can aim only at a good -all-round commercial sample of no finely distinctive colour or -flavour—but of the connoisseur in bee-craft, the gourmet among the hives, -who knows that there are as many varieties in honey as there are in wine, -and would as little dream of confusing them. - -Honey lovers who have been eating wax all their days will be as hardly -dissuaded from the practice as he whose custom it may be to consume the -paper in which his butter is wrapped, or take a proportion of the blue -sugar-bag with the lumps in his tea. Yet the last are no more -absurdities than the former, except in degree. Pure beeswax has neither -savour nor nutrient properties, and passes wholly unassimilated through -the human system. Even the bees themselves cannot feed upon it when at -dire extremes: the whole hive may die of starvation in the midst of waxen -plenty. Of all creatures, mice, and the larva of two species of moth, -alone will make away with it; and even in their case it is doubtful -whether the comb be not destroyed for the sake of the odd grains of -pollen and the pupa-skins it contains. Broadly speaking, unless you can -trust a dipped finger-tip to reveal to you on the moment the qualities of -this village-garden honey, it is always safer to buy in the comb. But -the wax should never be eaten. The proper way to deal with honeycomb at -table is to cut it to the width of the knife-blade; and, laying it upon -the plate with the cells vertical, press the blade flat upon it, when the -honey will flow out right and left. In this way, if duly carried out, -the honey is scientifically separated, no more than one per cent -remaining in the slab of wax. - - [Picture: “Honey-Comb: its various stages”] - - - -_The Bee as a Chemist_ - - -It is not strange, because it is so common, to find people who have eaten -honeycomb regularly all their lives, yet are unknowingly ignorant of the -first rudimentary fact in its nature and composition. To know that you -do not know is an intelligible state, the initial true step towards -knowledge; but to be full of erroneous information, and that -complacently, is to be ignorant indeed. Of such are the old lady who -dwelt in the Mile End Road, and believed that cocoanuts were monkeys’ -eggs, and the man who will tell you without expectancy of contradiction -that honey is the food of bees. - -Now this is no essay in cheap paradox, but a sober attempt to reinstate -in the public mind the unsophisticated truth. The natural foods of the -bee-hive are the nectar and the pollen, the “love ferment” of the -flowers. On these the bee subsists entirely, so long as she can obtain -them, and will go to her honey stores only when nature’s fresh supplies -have failed. One speaks by poetic licence, or looseness, of bees -gathering honey from blossoming plants. The fact is they do nothing of -the kind, and never did. The sweet juices of clover, heather, and the -like, differ fundamentally, both in appearance and in chemical properties -from honey. Though the main ingredient in honey is nectar, the two are -totally different things; and honey, far from being the normal food of -bees, is only a standby for hard times, a sort of emergency ration, put -up in as little compass and with as great a concentration as such things -can be. - -The story of how honey is made, and why it is made at all, forms one of -the most interesting items in the history of the hive-bee. In a land -where nectar-yielding plants flourish all the year through, if such a -spot exist at all, there would be no honey, because the necessity for it -would not occur. Hive-bees in such a land would go all their lives, and -assuredly never dream of honey-making. But wherever there is winter, or -a season when the supply of nectar and pollen temporarily fails, the bee, -who does not hibernate in the common sense of the term, must devise a -means of supporting life through the famine period. Many creatures can -and do accomplish this by merely laying up in a comatose condition until -such time as their natural food is plentiful again, and they may safely -resume their old activities. But this will not do for the doughty -honey-bee. A curious aspect of her life is the way in which she appears -to recognise the competitive spirit in all the higher forms of earthly -existence, and deliberately sets herself in the fore-rank of affairs with -that principle in view. It would be easy for a few hundred worker-bees -to get together in some warm nook underground, with that carefully tended -piece of egg-laying mechanism, their queen, in their midst; and in a -semi-dormant condition to pass the dark winter months through, gradually -rousing their own fires of life as the year warmed up again in the -spring. But such a system would mean that the colony would have to start -afresh from the bottom of the ladder of progress with every year. The -hive-bee has conceived a better plan, and the basis, the essential factor -of it all, is this thing of mystery which we call honey. - - - -_The True Purpose of the Hive_ - - -The ancient Roman name for a beehive was _alvus_, which, translated into -its blunt Anglo-Saxon equivalent, means belly. And this gives us in a -word the whole secret about honey-making. As a matter of fact, the hive -in summer acts as a digestive chamber, wherein the winter aliment of the -stock is prepared. The bees, during their ordinary workaday life, -subsist on the nectar and pollen which they are continually bringing into -the hive. Much pollen is laid by in the cells in its raw condition, but -pollen is almost exclusively a tissue-former, and it is not used by the -worker-bees during the winter for their own sustenance, but preserved -until early spring, when it forms the principal component in the bee-milk -on which the larvæ are mainly fed. The nectar, however, is necessary at -all times to support life in the mature bees, and it must therefore be -stored for use during the long months when there are no flowers to -secrete it. - -It is here that we get a glimpse into the ways of the honey-bee that may -well give spur to the most wonder-satiated amongst us. If a sample of -fresh nectar is examined, it will be found to consist of about seventy -per cent of water, the small remainder of its bulk being made up of what -is chemically known as cane sugar, together with a trace of certain -essential oils and aromatic principles. It is practically nothing but -sweetened and flavoured water. But ripe honey shows a very different -composition. The oils and essences are there, with some added acids; but -of water there is no more than seven to ten per cent; practically the -entire bulk of good honey consists of sugar, but it is grape sugar, with -scarce a trace of the cane sugar which nectar exclusively contains. To -put the thing in plainest words—the economic honey-bee, finding herself -with three or four months to get through at the least possible cost in -energy and nutriment, has scientifically reasoned out the matter, and, -among other ingenious provisions, has arranged to subject her winter food -to a process of pre-digestion during the summer, so that when she -consumes it there shall be neither force expended in its assimilation nor -waste products taken with it, needing to be afterwards expelled. Honey, -in fact, is the nectar digested, and then regurgitated just when it is -ready to be absorbed into the system. It is almost certain that every -drop goes through this process twice, and possibly three times, in each -case by different bees; and the heat of the hive still further -contributes to the object in view by driving off the superfluous moisture -from the nectar so treated, and thus concentrating it into an almost -perfect food. - - - - -CHAPTER XV -IN THE ABBOT’S BEE-GARDEN - - -STANDING in the lane without, and looking up at the grey forbidding walls -of the old abbey, you wondered how anything human could exist on the -other side; but, once past the heavy iron-studded gate, your thoughts -doubled like hares in the opposite direction. - -It seemed good to be a monk, if life could be all sunshine, and quietude, -and beauty like that. As you waited in the shadow of the great -stone-flagged portico, while your coming was announced, this feeling grew -deeper with every moment. The garden sloped down to the river’s edge, -winding footway, and green lawn, and kitchen-plot all alike girdled and -barricaded with rich-hued autumn flowers. Through the mass of crimson -fuchsia and many-coloured dahlia and hollyhock, bowers of pink and white -geranium with stems as thick as your wrist, ancient apple-trees drooping -under their burden of scarlet fruit, crowding jungles of roses, you could -see the bright waters sweeping by, and hear their busy sound as they won -a way amidst the rocky boulders strewing the bed of the tortuous Devon -stream. - -Here and there in the sunny field-of-view visible through the arched -doorway, black-robed figures were quietly at work: some digging; others -gathering apples in the orchard; one sturdy brother was mowing the -Abbot’s lawn, the bright blade coming perilously near his fluttering -skirts at every stroke; another went by trundling a wheelbarrow full of -green vegetables for the refectory table. There was a distant cackle of -poultry, blending oddly with the solemn chant that came from the chapel -hard by. Robins sang everywhere, and starlings clucked and whistled in -the valerian that topped the great encircling wall. But wherever you -looked, whatever drew away your attention for the moment, you were sure -to come back to the consideration of one preponderant yet inexplicable -thing. A steady, deep note was upon the air. Rich and resonant, it -seemed to come from all directions at once. The dim, grey-vaulted -entrance-porch was full of it. Looking up into the dusk of oaken beams -overhead, there it seemed at its strangest and loudest. Queerest fact of -all, it appeared to have some mysterious affinity with the sunshine, for -when a stray white argosy of cloud came drifting over the azure and -obscured for a minute the glad light, this full, sonorous note died -suddenly away, rising as swiftly again to its old power and volume when -the sunbeams glowed back once more over the spacious garden, and over the -riverside willows that shed their gold of dying leafage with every breath -of the soft south wind. - -It was not until you stepped outside, and looked upward over the face of -the old building, that you realised what it all meant. From its -foundation to the highest stone of the ancient bell-turret, the whole -front of the place was thickly mantled with ivy in full flower, and every -yellow tuft of blossom was besieged with bees. There seemed tens of -thousands of them, hovering and humming everywhere; and thousands more -arriving with every moment out of the blue air, or darting off again -fully laden, and away to some invisible bourne over the ruddy roof of -orchard trees. - -Intent on this vociferous wonder, you do not catch the footfall on the -gravel-path in your rear, or see the sombre figure of the Abbot as he -comes towards you, the sweep of his black frock setting all the marigolds -nodding behind him, as though from a sudden flaw of wind. And now you -have another pleasurable disillusionment as to monkish conditions of -being. Trudging along the deep-cut Devonshire lanes on your way to the -Abbey, through the rain of falling autumn leaves, you pictured the place -to yourself as a kind of sacred sink of desolation, inhabited by a crew -of sour-visaged anchorites, who found only godlessness in sunshine, and -in cakes-and-ale nothing but assured perdition. But here, coming towards -you, smiling, and with outstretched hand, is the last kind of human being -you expected to see. Clad from head to foot in sober black, with, for -ornament, but the one plain silver cross swinging at his breast, the -Abbot shows, unmistakably, for a gentleman of cultured and enlightened -mien. A fine, swarthy face, kind, calm eyes behind gold spectacles, a -voice like an old violin, and a grip of the hand that makes you wince -with its abounding welcome, all combine to set you there and then at your -ease; and talk begins at once on the old, familiar plane among -bee-keepers—the quick, enthusiastic interchange, each participant as -ready a listener as learner, common all the world over, wherever flowers -grow and men love bees. - -The brothers of the old Benedictine monastery—so the Abbot tells you, as -he leads the way towards the hives, through the sun-riddled -labyrinth—have kept bees, probably, for more than a thousand years. -There is no doubt that the original abbey building stood there, in the -wooded cleft of Devon valley, so long ago as the sixth century, nor -little question that its founder was a bee-man, for he was contemporary -and friend of the great St Modonnoc who himself first taught Irishmen to -keep bees. - -“Monks, in the very earliest times, were almost invariably -apiculturists,” argues the Abbot. He stops in the orchard, the more -impressively to quote Latin, the glib leaf-shadows playing the while over -his tonsured head. “Lac et mel; panis, vena rudis. Milk and honey, and -coarse oaten bread. At least we know, from our chronicles, that these -were the common daily fare of our Order more than eight hundred years -ago; and honey remains a part of our food to this day.” - -Thus overawed with the centuries, you begin to form a mental picture of -the bee-garden you are about to visit, voyaging so pleasantly through -winding path and shady thicket, with the bell-like sound of the water -growing clearer and clearer at every step. With all that hoary tradition -of the ages behind them, you promise yourself, these monks will have -clung to their bee-keeping mediævalism as to some sacred, inviolable -thing. There will be no movable comb-frames, nor American sections, nor -weird, foreign races of bees. They will never have heard even of -foul-brood, or napthol-beta, or the host of things that bless or curse -modern apiculture at every turn of the way. But, instead, there will be -a tangled wilderness of late blossom, such as only Devonshire can show in -November; dome-shaped hives of straw, each with its singing company about -it; perhaps a superannuated brother or two quietly making straw hackles -to shield the hives against coming winter weather; even, perchance, the -smell of burning brimstone on the air, as the last remnant of the -honey-harvest is gathered in the ancient way, by “taking up” the -strongest and the weakest colonies of bees. - -And then a wicket-gate in the old wall determines the path and your -ruminations together. A sudden burst of sunshine; the rich medley of -sound from fourscore hives lifting high above the song of the purling -stream; and you are out on the broad, green river-bank, looking on at a -scene very different from the one you have expected. - -There are no old-fashioned hives; they are all of the latest, most -scientific pattern, ranged under the shelter of the wall in two wide -terraces of close-shaven turf, looking southward over the stream. There -are outhouses of the most approved design, where all the business of a -modern apiary is going on. Here and there you see black-frocked figures -at work, dexterously examining the colonies. There is the deep, whirring -note of honey-extractors; the clamour of carpenters’ tools; the faint, -sickly smell from the wax-boilers; all the familiar evidences of -bee-farming carried on in the most modern, twentieth-century way. - -As you look down the long, trim avenue of gaily-painted hives your -companion has a quiet side-glance upon you, obviously noting your -disappointment. - -“What would you?” says he, and his deep voice rings like a passing-bell -for all your dreams. “Everything must move with the times, or must -inevitably perish. Modernism, rightly understood, is God’s fairest, most -priceless gift to the universe. It is a crucible through which all -things of true metal must pass to lose the accumulated dross of the ages, -keeping their original pure substance, but taking the new shape required -of them by latter-day needs. It is so with the old, dim windows of man’s -faith; daily the glass is being taken out, smelted down, purified, -replaced; we can see abroad into distances now never before visible. And -so it must prove even with bee-keeping, which is one of the oldest human -occupations in the world.” - -He waves his hand towards the sunny prospect before you. Beyond the -river the burning apple-woods soar steadily upward; and high above these, -stretching away to meet the blue sky, lie the Devon moorlands, once all -rose-red with blossoming heather, but now, parched and brown, except -where a grey crag or rock puts forth its jagged head. - -“It is a fine thing, perhaps,” says the Abbot, thoughtfully swinging his -silver cross in the sunbeams, “to love old, ignorant customs, old, -benighted, useless errors, for their picturesqueness and beauty alone. -But don’t you think it is a still finer thing to teach poor people how -they may win from the common hillside plenty of rich, nourishing food at -almost no cost at all? And that is what we are doing here. Modern -bee-science, it is true, gives us only an ugly utilitarian hive. It -sweeps away all the bright, iridescent cobwebs in they path of -bee-keeping, and substitutes hard fact for pretty fairy-tale. But the -sum of it all is that the poor cottager gains, not twenty or thirty -pounds at most of coarse, unsaleable sweet food from his hives, but -perhaps hundredweights of pure, choice, section-honey, which, sold in the -proper market, will clothe his children comfortably, and make it possible -for them to lead decent human lives.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI -BEES AND THEIR MASTERS - - -THERE are three great tokens of the coming of spring in the country—the -elm-blossom, the cry of the young lambs, and the first rich song of the -awakening bees. - -All three come together about the end of February or beginning of March, -and break into the winter dearth and silence in much the same sudden, -unpremeditated way. You look at the woodlands, cowering under the lash -of the shrill north wind, and all seems bare and black and lifeless. But -the wind dies down in a fiery sunset. With the darkness comes a warm -breath out of the west. On the morrow the spring sunshine runs high -through all the valleys like liquid gold; the elm-tops are ablaze with -purple; from the lambing-pens far and near a new cry lifts into the -still, warm air; and in the bee-gardens there is the unwonted, -old-remembered symphony, prophetic of the coming summer days. - -The shepherd, the bee-man, the woodlander—these three live in the focus -of the seasons, and feel their changes long before any other class of -country folk. But the bee-man, if he would prosper, must take the sun as -his veritable daily guide from year’s end to year’s end. Those whose -conception of a bee-keeper is mainly of one who looks on from his cottage -door while his winged thousands work for him, and who has but to stretch -out his hand once a year to gather the hoard he has had no part in -winning, know little of modern beemanship. This would be almost -literally true of the old skeppist days, when bees were left much to -their own devices, and thirty pounds of indifferent honey was reckoned a -good take from a populous hive. But the modern movable comb-frame has -altered all that. Now ninety or a hundred pounds weight of honey per -hive is expected, with ordinarily good seasons, on a well-managed -bee-farm; and in exceptional honey-flows very strong stocks of bees have -been known to double and even treble that amount. - -The movable comb-frame has three prime uses. The hives can be opened at -any time and their condition ascertained without having to wait for -outside indications. Brood-combs, with the young bees all ready to hatch -out, can be taken from strong colonies and given to weak ones, and thus -the population of all stocks may be equalised. The filled honeycombs can -be removed, emptied by the centrifugal extractor, and the combs returned -to the hive ready for another charge; and so the most onerous and -exacting labour of the hive, comb-building, is largely obviated. - -The modern beehive has another great advantage over the old straw skep, -in that its size can be regulated according to the needs of each colony. -More combs can be added as the stock grows, and thus no limit is set to -its capacity. With the ancient form of hive fifteen or twenty thousand -bees meant a crowded citadel, and there was nothing for it but to relieve -the congestion by swarming. But the swarming habit has always been the -principal obstacle to large honey-takes; and the problem which the modern -bee-keeper has to solve is how to prevent his stocks from thus breaking -themselves up into several hopelessly weak detachments. - -It is all a war of wits between the bees and their masters. In nature -the honey-bee is possessed of an inveterate caution. Famine is -especially dreaded, and the number of mouths to fill in a hive is always -kept strictly to the limits of the incoming food-supply. Thus a natural -bee-colony is seldom ready for the honey-flow when it begins in early -April, because it is only then that the raising of the young brood is -allowed its fullest scope. This, however, is of no importance as far as -the bees themselves are concerned, for a balance of stores of about -twenty pounds weight at the end of a season will safely carry the most -populous colony through any ordinary winter. - -But from the bee-master’s point of view it means practically a lost -harvest. All the arts and devices of the modern bee-keeper, therefore, -are set to work to overcome this timid conservatism of the hives, and to -induce the creation of immense colonies of worker-bees as early as -possible in the season, so that there may be no lack of labourers when -the harvest is ready. - -These first warm days of March, that bring the elm-blossom, and the cry -of the lambs, and the old sweet music of the bee-gardens together, really -form the most critical time of all for the apiarist who depends on his -honey for his bread-and-butter. It is the natural beginning of the -bee-year, and on his skill as a craftsman from now onward all chance of a -prosperous season will rest. It is true that, within the hive, the bees -have been awake and stirring for a long time past. Ever since the “turn -of the days,” just before Christmas, the queen-mother has been busy; and -now there are young bees, little grey fluffy creatures, everywhere in the -throng; and the area of sealed brood-cells is steadily growing. But it -is only now that the world out-of-doors becomes of any interest to the -bees. - -This is the time when the scientific bee-man must get to work. His whole -policy is one of benevolent fraud. He knows that the population in his -hives will not be allowed to increase until there is a steady, assured -income of nectar and pollen. He cannot create an early flower-crop, but -he does almost the same thing. Every hive is supplied with a -feeding-stage, where cane-sugar syrup, of nearly the same consistency as -the natural flower-secretion, is administered constantly; and he places -trays full of pea-flour at different stations amongst his hives, as a -substitute for pollen. There is a special art in the administration of -this sugar-syrup. One might think that if the bees required feeding at -all, the more they were given the better they would thrive. But -experience is all against this notion. The artificial food is given, not -to replenish an exhausted larder, but to simulate a natural new supply. -This, in the ordinary state of things, would begin in about a month’s -time, coming at first scantily, and gradually increasing. By -syrup-feeding early in March, the bee-master sets the clock of the year -forward by many weeks. He imitates nature by arranging his -feeding-stages so that the supply of syrup can be limited to the actual -day-to-day wants of the colony, allowing the bees freer access to the -syrup-bottles from time to time as their numbers augment. - -If this is adroitly done, the effect on the colony is remarkable. The -little company of bees whose part it is to direct the actions of the -queen-mother, seeing what is apparently the natural fresh supply of food -coming in, in daily increasing quantities, at length cast their -hereditary reserve aside, and allow the queen fullest scope for -egg-laying. The result is that by the time the real honey-flow commences -the population of each hive is double what it would be if it had been -left to its own resources, and the honey-yield is more than -proportionately great. It is well know among bee-men that a hive -containing, say, forty thousand workers will produce very much more honey -than two hives together numbering twenty thousand each. - -There is another vital consideration in this work of early stimulation of -the hives, which the capable bee-master will never neglect. When the -natural honey-glut is on, the whole hive reeks with the odours given off -from the evaporating nectar. The raw material, as gathered from the -flowers, must be reduced by the heat of the hive and other agencies to -about one-quarter of its original bulk before it is changed into mature -honey. The artificial food given to the bees will, of course, have none -of this scent, and the old honey-stores in the hive are hermetically -sealed under their waxen cappings. To complete the deception which has -been so elaborately contrived, the bee-master must furnish his hives with -a new atmosphere. This he does by slicing off the cappings from some of -the old store-combs, thus letting out their imprisoned fragrance, and -filling the hive at once with the very essence of the clover-fields where -the bees worked in the bygone summer days. The smell of the honey at -this time, combined with the regular and increasing supply of syrup, acts -like a powerful stimulant on the whole stock, and the work of -brood-raising goes rapidly forward. - -In intensive culture of all kinds there are risks to be run peculiar to -the artificial state of things engendered, and modern bee-breeding is no -exception to the rule. When once this fictile prosperity is installed by -the bee-master, no lapse or variation in the due amount of food must -occur. Even a single day’s remission of supplies may undo all that a -month’s careful manipulation has brought about. English bees understand -their native climate only too well, and the bitter experience of former -years has taught them to be prepared for a return of hard weather at any -moment. Under natural conditions, if a few weeks’ warmth has induced -them to raise population, and a sudden return of cold ensues, the bees -will take very prompt and stern measures to meet the threatening calamity -of starvation. The queen will cease laying at once; all unhatched brood -will be ruthlessly torn from its cradle-cells and destroyed; old, useless -bees will be expelled from the colony. And this is exactly what will -happen if the artificial food-supply is allowed to fail even for the -shortest period. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII -THE HONEY THIEVES - - -WHERE the bee-garden lay, under its sheltering crest of pine-wood, the -April sunbeams seemed to gather, as water gathers in the lap of enclosing -hills. Out in the lane the sweet hot wind sang in the hedgerows, and the -white dust lifted under every footfall and went bowling merrily away on -the breeze. But once among the crowding hives, you were launched on a -still calm lake of sunshine, where the daffodils hardly swayed on their -slender stems; and the smoke from the bee-master’s pipe, as he came down -the red-tiled path, hung in the air behind him like blue gossamer spread -to catch the flying bees. - -As usual, the old bee-man had an unexpected answer ready to the most -obvious question. - -“When will the new honey begin to come in?” he said, repeating my -inquiry. “Well, the truth is honey never comes into the hives at all; it -only goes out. That’s the old mistake people are always falling into. -Good bees never gather honey: they leave that to the wicked ones. If I -had a hive of bees that took to honey-gathering, I should have to stop -them, or end them altogether. It would have to be either kill or cure.” - -He took a quiet whiff or two, enjoying the effect of this seeming -paradox, then went on to explain. - -“What the bees gather from the flowers,” said he, “is no more honey than -barley and hops are beer. Honey has to be manufactured, first in the -body of the bee, and then in the comb-cells. It must stand to brew in -the heat of the hive, just as the wort stands in the gyle-tun; and when -it is ready to be bunged down, before the bee adds the last little plate -of wax to the cell-capping, she turns herself about and, as I believe, -injects a drop of the poison from her sting—or seems to do so. Then it -is real honey, but not before. Now, about these bad bees, the -honey-gatherers—” - -He stopped, putting his hand suddenly to his face. A bee had -unexpectedly fastened her sting into his cheek. At the same moment -another came at me like a spent shot from a gun, and struck home on my -own face. The old bee-man took a hurried survey of his hives. - -“Why,” said he, “as luck, or ill-luck, will have it, I think I can show -you the honey-gatherers at work now. There’s only one thing that would -make my bees wild on such a morning as this; and we must find out where -the trouble is, and stop it.” - -He was looking about him in every direction as he spoke; and at last, on -the farther side of the bee-garden, seemed to make out something amiss. -As we passed between the long rows of bee-dwellings every hive was the -centre of its own thronging busy life. From each there was a steady -stream of foragers setting outward into the brilliant sunshine, and as -constant a current homeward, as the bees returned heavily weighed down -under loads of golden pollen from the willows by the neighbouring -riverside. But round the hive, near which the bee-master presently came -to a halt, there was a very different scene enacting. The deep, rich -note of labour was replaced by an angry hubbub of war. The -alighting-board of the hive was covered with fighting bees; company -launched against company; single combats to the death; writhing masses of -bees locked together and tumbling furiously to the ground in every -direction. The soil about the hive was already thickly strewn with the -dead and dying: and the air, for yards round, was filled with the -piercing note of the fray. It seemed as hopeless to attempt to stop the -carnage as it was manifestly perilous to go near. - -But the bee-master had his own short way with this, as with most other -difficulties. He took up a big watering-can and filled it hastily from -the butt close by. - -“This hive is a weak stock,” he explained, “and it is being robbed by one -of the stronger ones. That is always the danger in spring. We must try -to drive the robbers home, and only one thing will do it. That is, a -heavy rainstorm; and as there is no chance of getting the real thing, we -must make one for ourselves.” - -He strode into the thick of the flying bees, and raising the can above -his head, sent a steady cascade of water over the whole hive. The effect -was instantaneous. The fighting ceased at once. The marauding bees rose -on the wing and streamed away homeward. Those belonging to the attacked -hive scrambled into its friendly shelter, a bedraggled, sodden crew. -When at length all was quiet, the old bee-man fetched an armful of hay -and heaped it up before the hive, completely covering its entire front. - -“If the robbers come back,” said he, “that will stop them going in, while -the bees inside can crawl to and fro if they wish. But at sunset we must -do away with the stock altogether by uniting it to another colony, and so -put temptation out of the robbers’ way. And now we must go and look for -the robbers’ den.” - -He refilled his pipe, and led the way down the long thoroughfare of the -bee-city, examining every hive in turn as he passed. - -“It is trouble of this kind,” he said, “that does more than anything else -to upset the instinct-theory of the old-fashioned naturalists, at least -as far as the honey-bee is concerned. Why should a whole houseful of -them suddenly break away from their old orderly industrious habits, and -take to thieving and violence? But so it often happens. There is -character, or the want of it, among bees just as there is in the human -race. Some are gentle and others vicious; some are hard workers early -and late, and others seem to take things easily, or to be subject to -unaccountable moods and caprices. Then the weather has an extraordinary -influence on the temper of most hives. On sunny, calm days, when the -glass is ‘set fair,’ and the clover in full bloom, the bees will take no -notice of any interference. The hives can be opened and manipulated -without the slightest fear of a sting. But if the glass is falling, or -the wind rising and backing, the bees will be often as spiteful as cats, -and as timid as squirrels. And there are times, just before a storm, -when to touch some hives would mean bringing the whole population out -upon you like a nest of hornets.” - -He stopped by one of the hives, and laid his great sunburnt hand down -flat on the entrance-board. The bees took no account of the obstacle, -but ran to and fro over his fingers with perfect unconcern. - -“And yet,” said he, “there are bees that follow none of these general -rules. Here is a stock which it is almost impossible to ruffle. You may -turn their home inside out, and they will go on working just as if -nothing had happened. They are famous honey-makers, while they keep to -it; but, like all mild-tempered bees, they are too fond of swarming, and -have to be put back into the hive two or three times before they settle -down to the season’s work.” - -As he talked, he was looking about him carefully, and at last made a -short cut towards a hive standing a little apart from the rest. The bees -of this hive were behaving in a very different fashion from those we had -just inspected. They were running about the flight-board in an agitated -way, and the whole hive gave out a note of deep unrest. The old bee-man -puffed his “smoker” up into full draught, and set to work to open the -hive. - -“These are the honey thieves,” he said, as he pulled off the coverings of -the hive and laid bare its rumbling, seething interior to the searching -sunlight, “and when once bees have taken to robbing their neighbours -there is only one way to cure them. You must exterminate the whole -brood. In the old days, a stock of bees with confirmed bad habits would -be taken to the sulphur-pit and settled at once for good and all. But -modern bee-keepers have a better and less wasteful way. Now, look out -for the queen!” - -He was lifting out the comb-frames one by one, and subjecting them to a -close examination. At last, on one of the most crowded frames, he spied -the huge full-bodied queen, and lifted her off by the wings. Then he -closed the hive up again as expeditiously as possible. - -“Now,” said he, as he ground the discredited monarch under his heel, “we -have stopped the mischief at the fountain-head. Of course, if we left -the bees to raise another queen for themselves, she would be of the same -blood as the first one, and her children would inherit the same -undesirable traits. But to-morrow, when the bees are thoroughly sobered -and frightened at the loss of their ruler, we will give them another -full-grown fertile queen of the best blood in the apiary. In three -weeks’ time the new population will begin to take over the citadel; and -in a month or two all the old bees will have died off, and with them the -last of the robber taint.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII -THE STORY OF THE SWARM - - -WHEN professional breeders of the honey-bee have succeeded in producing -the much-desired non-swarming race, and swarming has become a thing of -the past, naturalists of the old “instinct” school will be able to turn -their backs on at least one very inconvenient question. - -There is no denying that the breeders are theoretically right in their -present efforts. The swarming-habit in the honey-bee is admittedly the -main obstacle to large honey-takes; and now that two of the principal -objects of swarming—the multiplication of stocks and renewal of -queens—are fairly well understood, and can be artificially effected, -there is no doubt that the universal adoption of a non-swarming strain -throughout the bee-farms of the country, if such a thing were possible, -would result in a very greatly increased honey-yield, and the people -would get cheap honey. But at present it is not easy to see that any -progress whatever in this direction has been made. The bees continue to -swarm, in spite of beautifully adjusted theories; and the old attempt to -fit the square peg of instinct into the round hole of fact goes on as -merrily as ever. - -Students of bee-life, approaching the matter unencumbered by ancient -postulates, find themselves face to face with many surprising things, -which would seem unexplainable on any other hypothesis than that the bees -are endowed with reason, and that of no mean order. - -Instinct implies invariability, a dead perfection of motive working -blindly against all odds of circumstance, and always succeeding in the -main. But the very essence of reason, humanly speaking, is its -imperfection and continual deviation both in motive and performance. -Watching a swarm of bees from the moment of its issue from the hive, the -first thing that strikes the unacademic observer is that most of the bees -seem to have no notion at all as to what the furore is about. They are -by no means the obedient items of a common inexorable purpose. They are -more like a crowd of people running in a street, all agog with excitement -and curiosity, but not one of them knowing the cause of the general -stampede. Sometimes a stock of bees will give visible sign of the -approach of a swarming-fit for several days before the swarm actually -issues. But, as often as not, no such manifestation is given. The hive, -at least to the unexpert eye, seems in its normal condition right up to -the moment when the great emigration takes place. And then, as at a -given signal, the work suddenly stops, and the bees pour out of the -hive-entrance in a living stream, darkening the air for many yards round, -the cloud of darting bees rising higher and higher, and spreading over a -greater space with every moment. The swarm may take three or four -minutes to get fairly on the wing; and, from a populous hive, may number -twenty-five or thirty thousand individuals. - - [Picture: “Hiving a swarm”] - -There is seldom any fear of stings at such a time, and this extraordinary -phase of bee-life may usually be studied at close quarters. One of the -most puzzling things about it is that, however large the swarm proves to -be, enough workers and drones are still left behind in the old hive to -carry on the work of the stock. When the order for the sally is given, -and a feverish excitement spreads at once throughout the hive, those bees -chosen to remain in the old dwelling are perfectly unmoved by the general -mad spirit. Directly the last of the trekking-party has gone off, the -home-bees set diligently and quietly to work as if nothing had happened. -With the whole garden alive with flashing wings, and resounding with the -rich deep hubbub of the swarm, the bees forming the remnant of the old -colony go about their usual business in perfect unconcern, lancing -straight off into the sunshine towards the clover-fields, or winging -busily homeward laden with honey and pollen, just as they have been doing -for weeks past. And if the hive be opened at this time, it will show -nothing unusual except that no queen will be found. There will be three -or four queen-cells like elongated acorns hanging from the edges of the -central combs; and the first queen to hatch out, and prove herself -happily mated, will be allowed to destroy all the others. For the rest, -work seems to be going on in a perfectly normal way. The nectar and -pollen are being stored in the cells; the young grubs are being fed; most -of the combs are fairly well covered with their busy population, -consisting principally of young bees, although a fair sprinkling of -mature workers and drones is everywhere visible. In eight or ten days -the new queen will be laying and the colony rapidly regaining its former -strength. - -Meanwhile, the swarm is still in the air, every bee careering hither and -thither with no other apparent purpose than that of allowing full vent to -the mad excitement which has so mysteriously seized upon it. This state -will often last a considerable time, and, in rare cases, will end by the -bees trooping soberly back to the hive under just as mysterious a -revulsion of feeling and resuming their old steady work. At other times -the cloud of bees will suddenly rise high into the air and go straight -off across country, disappearing in a few moments from the keenest view. -But generally, after a short spell of this berserk frolic, the swarm -seems gradually to unite under common direction. The dark network of -flying bees overhead shrinks and grows denser. At last you make out the -beginnings of the cluster—a mere handful of bees clinging to a branch in -a tree or bush. The handful swells at a wonderful pace as the bees crowd -towards it from all quarters. In three or four minutes the whole -multitude is locked together in a solid pendent mass, and the wild song -of freedom has died down to a few stray intermittent notes. - -This silence, following the shrill, abounding turmoil, has an almost -uncanny effect. It seems so utterly opposed to, and incongruous with, -the mad state of things that existed before; and it is difficult to -escape the conclusion that the bees have weakly given way to an -incontrollable impulse against all their principles and inherited -traditions of right, and that now, hanging thoroughly sobered and shamed -and disillusioned, homeless and beggared, they realise themselves face to -face with the unforeseen consequences of their thoughtless act. It is -just the conduct which might be expected of some savage human race, pent -up for long years in the rigid bounds of an alien civilisation, which in -one blind moment has thrown to the four winds all its irksome blessings, -only to realise, when the first glowing hour of freedom is over, that -their long captivity has made the old wild life no longer possible in -fact. Some such period of deep despondency as has come to the silent -swarm in the hedgerow can be imagined as inevitably falling on such a -race of men. But if the conquerors were to follow the absconding tribe -into the lean wilderness and bring them home again repentant, restoring -them to their old shelter and plenty once more, probably they would vent -their satisfaction in a chorus of joyful approval. And it is just this -which seems to be happening when the swarm is shaken down in front of a -new, well-furnished hive. The first bees that find their way into the -cool dark interior set up a jubilant hum unlike any other sound known in -beecraft. At once the strain is taken up by all the rest, and the whole -multitude marches into the new home to a tune which the least fanciful -must concede is nothing but sheer satisfaction melodised. - -There is little in all this which suggests a race of creatures bound -within the hard and fast laws of an implanted instinct, which it is -neither in their power nor their pleasure to override. It is true that -in the natural life of the honey-bee this annually recurrent impulse of -swarming serves several necessary ends; but the utilitarian argument, -however stretched, cannot be made to explain the whole fact. There is -unmistakably an element of caprice about it—a kicking over the -traces—which would be natural enough in creatures possessed of reason, -but totally inconceivable from any other point of view. And the farther -we look into the whole problem the more perplexing it seems. If we grant -that the issue of a swarm, from a hive overcrowded and headed by a queen -past her prime, is a necessity, why is it that the same hive will often -swarm a second and even a third time until the stock is practically -extinguished and the original object of swarming wholly defeated? Or if, -under the same conditions, a hive prepares to swarm and cold windy -weather intervenes, how is it that frequently all idea of swarming is -abandoned for the season, although apparently the necessity for it -continues to exist? - -Creatures which pursue a certain line of conduct under the blind -promptings of instinct could hardly be credited with intelligence enough -to lead them to seek another means for the desired end when the -preordained means has failed. But this is just what the honey-bee -appears to do in at least one instance. If the mother-bee of a colony is -getting past her work, and she cannot be sent off with a swarm in the -usual way, the bees will supersede her. They will deliberately put her -to death, and raise another queen to take her place. This State -execution of the old worn-out queens is one of the most curious and -pathetic things in or out of bee-life. One probe with a sting would -suffice in the matter; but the honey-bee is a great stickler for the -proprieties. The royal victim must be allowed to meet her fate in a -royal way; and she is killed by caresses, tight-locked in the joint -embrace of the executioners until suffocation brings about her death. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX -THE MIND IN THE HIVE - - -STUDENTS of the ways of the honey-bee find many things to marvel at, but -little to excite their wonder more than the unique system of ventilation -established in the hive. - -Under natural conditions it is a moot point whether bees concern -themselves at all with the ventilation of their nests. Wild bees usually -fix upon a site for their dwelling where there is ample space for all -possible developments; and the ventilation of the home—as with most human -tenements—is left pretty much to chance causes. At least, in the course -of many years’ observation, the writer has never seen the fanners at work -in the entrance of a natural bee-settlement. - -Probably this remarkable fanning system originated in a new want felt by -the bees, when, in remote ages, their domestication began, and they found -themselves cooped up in impervious hives which, in their very earliest -form, were possibly roughly-plaited baskets, daubed over with clay, or -earthen pots baked dry in the sun. This form, originally adopted by the -bee-keeper as a protection against honey-thieves of all sorts, as well as -against the weather, brought about a new order of things in bee-life. -The free circulation of air which would obtain when the bee-colony was -established naturally in a cleft of a rock or in a hollow tree became no -longer possible. And so—as they have been proved to have done in many -modern instances—the bees set to work to evolve new methods to meet new -necessities, and the present ventilation-system gradually became an -established habit of the race. - -Watching a hive of bees on any hot summer’s day, one very curious, not to -say startling, fact must strike the most superficial observer. If the -fanning bees were stationed round the flight-hole in a merely casual, -irregular way, their obvious employment would be surprising enough. But -it is at once seen that each fanner forms part in an ingenious and -carefully thought-out plan. Outwardly, the fanners are arranged in -regular rows, one behind the other, all with their heads pointed towards -the hive, and all working their wings so fast that their incessant -movement becomes nearly invisible. These rows of bees extend sometimes -for several inches over the alighting-board, and on very hot days there -may be as many as seven or eight ranks. The ventilating army never -covers the whole available space. It is always at one side or the other; -or, where the entrance is a wide one, it may be divided into two wings, -leaving a centre space free. The fanning bees, moreover, do not keep -close together, but stand in open order, so that the continual coming and -going of the nectar-gatherers is in no wise impeded. There is a constant -flow of worker-bees through the ranks in both directions; yet the fanning -goes on uninterruptedly, and, under certain conditions, the current of -air thus set up may be strong enough to blow out the flame of a candle -held at the edge of the flight-board. - -In all study of the ways of the honey-bee, the safer plan is to begin -with the assumption that a reasoning creature is under observation, and -then to work back to the surer, well-beaten tracks of thought concerning -the lower creation—that is, if the observed facts warrant it. But this -question of the ventilation of the modern beehive—only one of many other -problems equally astounding—helps the orthodox naturalist of the old -school very little on his comfortable way. We know that the wild bee -generally chooses a situation for her nest which is neither cramped nor -confined, but has in most cases ample space available for the future -growth of the colony. Security from storm or flood seems to be the first -consideration. The fact that the interior of a bee-nest is more or less -in darkness appears to be mainly accidental. Bees have no particular -liking for absolute darkness, nor, in fact, is any hive perfectly free -from light. Experiment will prove that a very small aperture is -sufficient to admit a considerable amount of reflected and diffused -light, quite enough for the needs of the hive. It may be supposed, -therefore, that the bees would have no objection to building in broad -daylight, or even sunlight, if, in conjunction with the first necessities -of shelter, security, and equable temperature, such a location were -easily obtainable under natural conditions. It would only be another -instance of their unique adaptability to circumstances forced upon them. - -In the matter of ventilation, however, they seem to make a very -determined and highly successful stand against imposed conditions. -Bee-keeping cannot be made a profitable occupation unless the work of the -bees is kept strictly within certain sharply-defined limits, and probably -the modern movable comb hive is the best means to this end. That it -leaves the necessity of ventilation wholly unprovided for is not the -fault of the bee-master, but of the bees themselves. They refuse -pointblank to have anything to do with human notions of hygiene. Many -devices have been tried, in the form of vent-shafts and the like, to -carry off the vitiated air of the hive, but all have failed, because the -bees insist on stopping up every crack or crevice left in walls, roof, or -floor. For some inscrutable reason they will have only the one opening, -which must serve for all purposes, and the hive-maker has had to learn by -hard-won experience that the bees are right. - -Perhaps, in any attempt to follow the reasoning of the bees in this -matter, it is well first of all to get rid of the word “fanning” -altogether. The wing-action of the ventilating bees is more that of a -screw-propeller than a fan. The air is not beaten to and fro, as a fan -would beat it, but is driven backwards, and thus the ventilating squadron -on the flight-board really sets up an exhaust-current, which draws the -contaminated air out of the hive. This implies an equally strong current -of fresh air passing into the hive, and explains why the bees work at the -side of the entrance only, the central, unoccupied space being obviously -the course of the intake. Thus the bees’ system of ventilation can be -described as a swiftly-flowing loop of air, having both extremities -outside the hive, much as a rope moves over a pulley, and it can be -readily understood that any supplementary inlet or outlet—such as the -bee-master would instal, if he were permitted—would be rather a hindrance -to the system than a help. Probably the actual main current keeps to the -walls of the hive throughout, the ventilation between the brood-combs -being more slowly effected. This would fulfil a double purpose. The air -supplied to the central portion, or brood-nest proper, would be -thoroughly warmed before it reached the young larva, while the outer and -upper combs, where the stores of new honey are maturing, would lie in the -full stream. - -It must be remembered that a constant supply of fresh air of the right -temperature is as necessary for the brewing honey as it is for the bees -and young brood. The nectar, as gathered from the flowers, needs to be -deprived of the greater part of its moisture before it becomes honey. -Thus, in the course of the season, many gallons of water must pass out of -the hive in the form of vapour, and the removal of this water constitutes -an important part of the work of the ventilating army. Here, again, the -wisdom of the bees in insisting on a mechanical, as opposed to an -automatic, system of air-renewal, becomes evident. If the warm, -moisture-laden air were left to discharge itself from the hive by its own -buoyancy, condensation of this moisture would take place on the cooler -surfaces of the hive-walls, and the lower regions of the hive would -speedily become a quagmire. But by setting up a mechanically-driven -current the air is drawn out before condensation can take place, and -thus, in one operation, forming a veritable triumph in economics, the -hive interior is rendered both dry and salutary, while its temperature is -sustained at the necessary hatching-point for the young brood. - -A reflection which will occur to most thinking minds is, why should the -domesticated honey-bee be constrained to resort to all these devices, -when the wild bee seems to lead a happy-go-lucky existence, comparatively -free, so far as we know, from such complicated cares? The answer to this -is that the science of apiculture has wrought a change in the bees’ -normal environment which is probably without parallel in the whole -history of the domestication of the lower creatures. In a modern hive -the honey-bee lives on a vastly elaborated scale, and the ancient rules -of bee-life are no longer applicable. Much the same sort of thing has -happened as in the case of a village which has grown to a city. It is -useless to deal with the new order of things as a mere question of -arithmetic. Abnormal growth in a community involves change not only in -scale but in principle; and it is the same with a hive of bees as with a -hive of men. - - - - -CHAPTER XX -THE KING’S BEE-MASTER - - -STUDENTS of old books on the honey-bee—and perhaps there has been more -written about bees during the last two thousand years than of all other -creatures put together—do not quite know what to make of Moses Rusden, -who was Charles the Second’s bee-master, and wrote his “Further Discovery -of Bees” in the year 1679. The wonder about Rusden is that obviously he -knew so much that was true about bee-life, and yet seems, of set purpose, -to have imparted so little. He was a shrewdly observant man, of lifelong -experience in his craft. His system of bee-keeping would not have -disgraced many an apiculturist of the present time, often yielding him a -honey harvest averaging sixty pounds to the hive, which is a result not -always achieved even by our foremost apiarian scientists. His hives were -fitted with glass windows, through which he was continually studying his -bees. He must have had endless opportunities of proving the fallacy and -folly of the ancient classic notions as to bee-life. And yet we find him -gravely upholding almost the entire framework of fantastic error, old -even in Pliny’s time; and speaking of the king-bee with his generals, -captains, and retinue, honey that was a dew divinely sent down from -heaven, the miraculous propagation of bee-kind from the flowers, and all -the other curious myths and fables handed down from writer to writer -since the very earliest days. - -But, reading on in the little time-stained, worm-eaten book, it is not -very difficult to guess at last why Rusden adopted this attitude. He was -the King’s bee-master, and therefore a courtier first and a naturalist -afterwards. In the first flush of the Restoration, anyone who had -anything to say in support of the divine right of kings was certain to -catch the Royal eye. Rusden admits himself conversant with Butler’s -“Feminine Monarchie,” published some fifty years before, in which the -writer argues that the single great bee in a hive was really a female. -To a man of Rusden’s practical experience and deductive quality of mind, -this statement must have lead, and no doubt did lead, to all sorts of -speculations and discoveries. But with a ruler of Charles the Second’s -temperament, feminine monarchies were not to be thought of. Rusden saw -at once his restrictions and his peculiar opportunity, and wrote his book -on bees, which is really an ingenious attempt to show that the system of -a self-ruling commonwealth is a violation of nature, and that, whether -for bees or men, government under a king is the divinely ordained state. - -Whether, however, Rusden was deliberately insincere, or actually -succeeded in blinding himself conveniently for his own purposes, it must -be admitted not only that he argued the case with singular adroitness, -but that never did facts adapt themselves so readily to either conscious -or unconscious misrepresentation. In the glass-windowed hives of the -Royal bee-house at Saint James’s, he was able to show the King a nation -of creatures evidently united under a common rule, labouring together in -harmony and producing works little short of miraculous to the mediæval -eye. He saw that these creatures were of two sorts, each going about its -duty after its kind, but that in each colony there was one bee, and only -one, which differed entirely from the rest. To this single large bee all -the others paid the greatest deference. It was cared for and nourished, -and attended assiduously in its progress over the combs. All the humanly -approved tokens of royalty were manifest about it. No wonder the King’s -bee-master was not slow in recognising that, in those troublous times, he -could do his patron no greater service than by pointing out to the -superstitious and ignorant multitude—still looking askance at the -restored monarchy—such indisputable evidence in nature of Charles’s -parallel right. - -And perhaps nature has never been at such pains to conceal her true -processes from the vulgar eye as in this case of the honey-bee. If -Rusden ever suspected that the one large bee in each colony was really -the mother of all the rest, and had set himself to prove it, he would -have found the whole array of visible facts in opposition to him. If -ever a truth seemed established beyond all reasonable doubt, it was that -the ordinary male-and-female principle, pertaining throughout the rest of -creation, was abrogated in the single instance of the honey-bee. The -ancients explained this anomaly as a special gift from the gods, and the -bees were supposed to discover the germs of bee-life in certain kinds of -flowers and to bring them home to the cells for development. Rusden -improved upon this idea by assigning to his king-bee the duty of -fertilising these embryos when they were placed in the cells, for he -could not otherwise explain a fact of which he was perfectly well -aware—that the large bee travelled the combs unceasingly, thrusting its -body into each cell in turn. Rusden also held that the worker-bees were -females, but only—as Freemasons would say—in a speculative manner. They -neither laid eggs nor bore young. Their maternal duties consisted only -in gathering the essence of bee-life from the blossoms and nursing and -tending the young bees when they emerged from their cradle-cells. The -drones were a great difficulty to Rusden. To admit them to be males—as -some held even in his day—would have been against the declared object of -his book, as tending to entrench upon royal prerogatives. Luckily, this -truth was as easy of apparent refutation as all the rest. No one had -ever detected any traffic of the sexes amongst bees either in or out of -the hives; nor, indeed, is such detection possible. The fact that the -queen-bee has concourse with the drone only once in her whole life, and -that their meeting takes place in the upper air far out of reach of human -observation, is knowledge only of yesterday. In Rusden’s time such a -marvel was never even suspected. As the drones, therefore, were never -seen to approach the worker bees or to notice them in any way, and as -also young bees were bred in the hives during many months when no drones -existed at all, Rusden’s ingenuity was equal to the task of bringing them -into line with his theory. - -If he had lived a few decades earlier, and it had been Cromwell, instead -of the heartless, middle-aged rake of a sovereign, whom he had to -propitiate, no doubt Rusden would have asked his public to swallow -Pliny’s whole apiarian philosophy at a gulp. Bee-life would then have -been held up as a foreshadowing of celestial conditions, and the facts -would have lent themselves to this view equally as well. But his task -was to represent the economy of the hive as a clear proof of divine -authority in kingship, and it must be conceded that, as far as knowledge -went in those days, he established his case. - -His book was published under the ægis of the Royal Society, and “by his -Majestie’s especial Command,” which was less a testimony of the King’s -love for natural history than of his political astuteness. Apart, -however, from its peculiar mission, the book is interesting as a -sidelight on the old bee-masters and their ways. Probably it represents -very fairly the extent of knowledge at the time, which had evidently -advanced very little since the days of Virgil. Rusden taught, with the -ancients, that honey was a secretion from the stars, and that wax was -gathered from the flowers, as well as the generative matter before -mentioned. He had one theory which seems to have been essentially his -own. The little lumps of many-coloured pollen, which the worker-bees -fetch home so industriously in the breeding season, he held to be the -actual substance of the young bees to come, in an elementary state. -These, he tells us, were placed in the cells, having absorbed the -feminine virtues from their bearers on the way. The king-bee then -visited each in turn, vivifying them with his essence, after which they -had nothing to do but grow into perfect bees. He got over the difficulty -of the varying sexes of the bees bred in a hive by asserting that these -lumps of animable matter were created in the flowers, either female, or -neuter—as he called the drones—or royal, as the case might be. Having -denied the drones any part in the production of their species, or in -furnishing the needs of the hive, Rusden was hard put to it to find a use -for them in a system where it would have been _lèse-majesté_ to suppose -anything superfluous or amiss. He therefore hits upon an idea which, -curiously enough, embodies matter still under dispute at the present -time, although it is being slowly recognised as a truth. Rusden says the -use of the drones is to take the place of the other bees in the hive when -these are mostly away honey-gathering. Their great bodies act as so many -warming stoves, supplying the necessary heat to the hatching embryos and -the maturing stores of honey. It is well known that drones gather -together side by side, principally in the remoter parts of the hive, -often completely covering these outer combs. They seldom rouse from -their lethargy of repletion to take their daily flight until about -midday, when most of the ingathering work is over, and the hive is again -fairly populous with worker-bees. Probably, therefore, Rusden was quite -right in his theory, which, hundreds of years after, is only just -beginning to be accepted as a fact. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI -POLLEN AND THE BEE - - -POPULAR beliefs as to the ways of the honey-bee, unlike those relating to -many other insects, are surprisingly accurate, so far as they go. But, -dealing with such a complex thing as hive-life, it is well-nigh -impossible to have understanding on any single point without going very -much farther than the ordinary tabloid-method of knowledge can carry us. -This is especially true with regard to pollen, and the uses to which it -is put within the hive. The hand-books on bee-keeping usually tell us -that pollen is employed with honey as food for the young bees when in the -larval state; but this is so wide a generalisation that it amounts to -almost positive error. - - [Picture: “A rarity in hive life: a honeycomb built upward”] - -As a matter of fact, the pollen in its raw condition is given only to the -drone-larva, and this only towards the end of its life as a grub. For -the first three days of the drone-larva’s existence, and in the case of -the young worker-bee for the whole five days of the larval period, the -pollen is administered by the nurse-bees in a pre-digested state. After -partial assimilation, both the pollen and the nectar are regurgitated by -these nurse-bees, and form together a pearly-white fluid—veritable -bee-milk—on which the young grubs thrive in an extraordinary way. - -There are few things more fascinating than to watch a hive of bees at -work on a fine June morning, and to note how the pollen is carried in. -With a prosperous stock, thousands of bees must pass within the space of -a few minutes, each bee dragging behind her a double load of this -substance. Very often, in addition to the half-globes of pollen which -she carries on her thighs, the bee will be smothered in it from head to -foot, as in gold-dust. If you track her into the hive, one curious point -will be noted. No matter how fast she may go, or what frantic spirit of -labour may possess the entire colony, the pollen-laden bee is never in a -hurry to get rid of her load. She will waste precious time wandering -over the crowded combs, continually shaking herself, as though showing -off her finery to her admiring relatives; and it may be some minutes -before she finally selects a half-filled pollen-cell and proceeds to kick -off her load. The different kinds of pollen are packed into the cells -indiscriminately, the bee using her head as a ram to press each pellet -home. When the cell is full it is never sealed over with a waxen -capping, as in the case of the honey-stores, but is left open or covered -with a thin film of honey, apparently to preserve it from the air. The -nurse-bees, who are the young workers under a fortnight old, help -themselves from these pollen-bins. They also frequently stop a -pollen-bearer as she hurries through the crowd, and nibble the pollen -from her thighs. - -Throughout the season there is hardly an imaginable colour or shade of -colour which is not represented in the pollen carried into a beehive; and -with the aid of a microscope it is not difficult to identify the source -of each kind. In May, before the great field-crops have come into bloom, -the pollen is almost entirely gathered from wild flowers, and consists of -various rich shades of yellow and brown. By far the heaviest burdens at -this time are obtained from the dandelion. The pollen from this flower -is a peculiarly bright orange, and is easily recognised under a strong -glass by its grains, which are in the form of regular dodecahedrons, -thickly covered all over with short spikes. - -It is well known that the honey-bee confines herself during each journey -to one species of flower, and this is proved by the microscope. It is -not easy to intercept a homing bee laden with pollen. On alighting -before the hive she runs in so quickly that the keenest eye and deftest -hand are necessary to effect her capture. But with the aid of a -miniature butterfly-net and a little practice it can generally be done; -and then the pellet of pollen will be found to consist almost invariably -of one kind of grain. But it is not always so. The honey-bee, as a -reasoning creature, does not and cannot be expected to do anything -invariably. Among some hundreds of these pollen-lumps examined under the -microscope I have occasionally found grains of pollen differing from the -bulk. Perhaps there are no two species of flower which have -pollen-grains exactly alike in colour, shape, and size, and in most the -differences are very striking. In the cases mentioned the bulk of the -pollen was made up of long oval yellow grains divided lengthwise into -three lobes or gores, which were easily identifiable as coming from the -figwort. The isolated grains were very minute spheres thickly studded -with blunt spikes—obviously from the daisy. The figwort is a famous -source of bee-provender in spring time, and its pollen can be seen -flowing into the hives at that time in an almost unbroken stream of -brilliant chrome-yellow. The brownish-gold masses that are also being -constantly carried in are from the willow; and where the hives are near -woodlands the bluebells yield the bees enormous quantities of pollen of a -dull yellowish white. - -It is interesting that all these various materials, so carefully kept -asunder when gathered, are for the most part inextricably mingled within -the hive. Obviously the system of visiting only one species of flower on -each foraging journey can have no relation to pollen-gathering; nor does -it seem to apply to the nectar obtained at the same time. It cannot be -inferred that the contents of each honey-cell are brewed from only one -source, because it has been proved that bees do blend the various nectars -together when several crops are simultaneously in flower. A honey-judge -can easily detect the flavours of heather and white-clover in the same -sample of honey by taste alone. But there is another and much more -conclusive way of deciding the source from which a particular sample of -honey has been obtained. In the purest and most mature honeys there are -always a few accidental grains of pollen, invisible to the eye, yet -easily detected under a strong glass. And these may be taken as almost -infallible guides to the species of flowers visited by the foraging bees. -The only explanation which seems possible, therefore, of the honey-bee’s -care to visit only one kind of blossom on each journey is that it is done -for the sake of the plant itself, cross-fertilisation being thus rendered -extremely improbable. - -When once the bee-man has succumbed to the fascination of the microscope, -there is very little chance that he will ever return to his old panoramic -view of things. He goes on from wonder to wonder, and the horizon of the -new world he has entered continually broadens with each marvelling step. -To the old rule-of-thumb bee-keepers pollen was mere bee-bread; and the -fact that the bees preferred one kind to another did not greatly concern -them. But at a time when the small-holder is beginning to feel his feet, -and the question of the feasibility of planting for bee-forage is certain -to arise, it is necessary to know why bees gather this important part of -their diet from particular kinds of flowers, while leaving severely alone -others which appear to be equally attractive. To this question the -microscope supplies a sufficient answer. - -Chemists have determined that nectar is the heat and force-producer in -the food of the bee, while pollen supplies its nitrogenous -tissue-building qualities. It is evident that bees select certain -pollens for their superior nutritive powers, just as in bread-making we -prefer wheat to any other species of grain. In the kinds of pollen most -in favour with bees a good microscope will reveal the fact that the -pollen-grains are often accompanied by a certain amount of true farina, -as well as essential oils, which must greatly enhance their food-value. -And in those crops generally neglected by bees, such as daisies and -buttercups, those accompaniments appear to be absent. The dandelion is -especially rich in a thick yellow oil, which the bees carry away with the -pollen; while two plants in particular of which the bees are especially -fond—the crocus and the box—have a large amount of this farina mingled -with the true pollen. - -It is only within the last century or so that the real uses of pollen in -the economy of the hive have been ascertained. Until comparatively -recent times the pollen was supposed to be crude wax, which the bees -refined and purified into the white ductile material of the new combs; -and a few old-fashioned bee-keepers still hold this view, and refuse to -believe that the wax used in comb-building is entirely a secretion from -the bee’s own body. Pollen, indeed, seems to have very little to do with -wax, hardly any nitrogenous food being consumed while the wax is being -generated. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII -THE HONEY-FLOW - - -ON Warrilow Bee-Farm, where it lay under the green lip of the Sussex -Downs, there was always food for wonder, whether the year was at its ebb -or its flow. But in July of a good season the busy life of the farm -reached a culminating point. - -The ordinary man, in search of excitement, distraction, the heady wine -served out only to those who stand in the fighting-line of the world, -would hardly seek these things in a little sleepy village sunk fathoms -deep in English summer greenery. But, nevertheless, with the coming of -the great honey-flow to Warrilow came all these subtle human necessities. -If you would keep up with the bee-master and his men at this stirring -time, you must be ready for a break-neck gallop from dawn to dusk of the -working day, and often a working night to follow. While the honey-flow -endured, muscles and nerves were tried to their breaking-point. It was a -race between the great centrifugal honey-extractor and the toiling -millions of the hives; and time and again, in exceptionally favourable -seasons, the bees would win; the honey-chambers would clog with the -interminable sweets, and the dreaded atrophy of contentment would seize -upon the best of the hives, with the result that they would gather no -more honey. - -A week of hot bright days and warm still nights, with here and there a -gentle shower to hearten the fields of clover and sainfoin; and then the -fight between the bee-master and his millions would begin in earnest. -There would be no more quiet pipes, strolling and talking among the -hives: the Bee-Master of Warrilow was a general now, with all a great -commander’s stern absorption in the conduct of a difficult campaign. -Often, with the first grey of the summer’s morning, you would hear his -footsteps on the red-tiled path of the garden below, as he hurried off to -the bee-farm, and presently the bell in the little turret over the -extracting-house would clang out a reveille to his men, and draw them -from their beds in the neighbouring village to another day of work, -perhaps the most trying work by which men win their bread. - -It is nothing in the ordinary way to lift a super-chamber weighing twenty -pounds or so. But to lift it by imperceptible degrees, place an empty -rack in its place, return the full rack to the hive as an upper story, -and to do it all so quietly and gently that the bees have not realised -the onslaught on their home until the operation is complete, is quite -another thing. And a long day of this wary, delicate handling of heavy -weights, at arm’s length, under broiling sunshine, is one of the most -nerve-wearing and back-breaking experiences in the world. - -One of the mistakes made by the unknowing in bee-craft is that the -bee-veil is never used among professional men. But the truth is that -even the oldest, most experienced hand is glad enough, at times, to fall -back behind this, his last line of defence. All depends upon the -momentary temper of the bees. There are times when every hive on the -farm is as gentle as a flock of sheep, and it is possible to take any -liberty with them. At other times, and apparently under much the same -conditions, stocks of bees with the steadiest of reputations will resent -the slightest interference, while the mere approach to others may mean a -furious attack. No true bee-man is afraid of the wickedest bees that -ever flew, but it is only the novice who will disdain necessary -precautions. Even the Bee-Master of Warrilow was seldom seen without a -wisp of black net round the crown of his ancient hat, ready to be let -down at a moment’s notice if the bees showed any inclination to sting. - - [Picture: “The upward built comb shown joined on the downward built - comb”] - -In a long vista of memorable days spent at Warrilow, one stands out clear -above all the rest. It was in July of a famous honey-year. The hay had -long been carried, and the second crops of sainfoin and Dutch clover were -making their bravest show of blossom in the fields. It was a stifling -day of naked light and heat, with a fierce wind abroad hotter even than -the sunshine. The deep blue of the sky came right down to the -earth-line. The farthest hills were hard and bright under the universal -glare. And on the bee-farm, as I came through the gap in the dusty -hedgerow, I saw that every man had his veil close drawn down. The -bee-master hailed me from his crowded corner. - -“Y’are just to the nick!” he called, in his broadest Sussex. “’Tis -stripping-day wi’ us, an’ I can do wi’ a dozen o’ ye! Get on your veil, -d’rectly-minute, an’ wire in t’ot!” - -The fierce hot wind surged through the little city of hives, scattering -the bees like chaff in all directions, and rousing in them a wild-cat -fury. Overhead the sunny air was full of bees, striving out and home; -and from every hive there came a shrill note, a tremulous, high-pitched -roar of work, half-baffled, driven through against all odds and -hindrances, a note that bore in upon you an irresistible sense of fear. -I pulled on the bee-veil without more ado. - -“Stripping-day” was always the hardest day of the year at Warrilow. It -meant that some infallible sign of the approaching end of the harvest had -been observed, and that all extractable honey must be immediately removed -from the hives. A change of weather was brewing, as the nearness of the -hills foretold. There might be weeks of flood and tempest coming, when -the hives could not be opened. Overnight there had been a ringed moon, -and the morning broke hot and boisterous, with an ominous clearness -everywhere. By midday the glass was tumbling down. The bee-master took -one look at it, then called all hands together. “Strip!” he said -laconically; and all work in extracting-house and packing-sheds was -abandoned, and every man braced himself to the job. - -The hives were arranged in long double rows, back to back, with a footway -between wide enough to allow the passage of the honey barrow. This was -not unlike a baker’s hand-cart, and contained empty combs, which were to -be exchanged for the full combs from the hives. I found myself sharing a -row with the bee-master, and already infused with the glowing, static -energy for which he was renowned. The process of stripping the hives -varied little with each colony, but the bees themselves furnished variety -enough and to spare. In working for comb-honey, the racks or sections -are tiered up one above the other until as many as five stories may be -built over a good stock. But where the honey is to be extracted from the -comb another system is followed. There is then only one super-chamber, -holding ten frames side by side, and these frames are removed separately -as fast as the bees fill and seal them, their place being taken by the -empty combs extracted the day before. - -The whole art of this work consists in disturbing the bees as little as -possible. At ordinary times the roof of the hive is removed, the -“quilts” which cover the comb-frames are then very gently peeled away, -and the frames with their adhering bees are placed side by side in the -clearing-box. The honey-chamber is then furnished with empty combs, and -the coverings and roof replaced. On nine days out of ten this can be -done without a veil or any subduing contrivance; and the bees which were -shut up with the honey in the clearing-box will soon come out through the -traps in the lid and fly back to their hives. But when time presses, and -several hundred hives must be gone through in a few hours, a different -system is adopted. Speed is now a main desideratum in the work, and on -stripping-day at Warrilow resort is made to a contrivance seldom seen -there at other times. This is simply a square of cloth saturated with -weak carbolic acid, the most detested, loathsome thing in bee-comity. -Directly the comb-frames are laid bare these cloths are drawn over them, -and in a few moments every bee has crowded down terror-stricken into the -lower regions of the hive, leaving the honey-chamber free for instant and -swift manipulation. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII -SUMMER LIFE IN A BEE-HIVE - - -IF you go to the bee-garden early of a fine summer’s morning you will be -struck by the singular quiet of the place. All the woods and hedgerows -are ringing with busy life. The rooks are cawing homeward with already -hours of strenuous work behind them. The cattle in the meadows are well -through their first cud. But as yet the bee-city is as still as the -sleeping village around it. Now and again a bee drops down from the sky -on a deserted hive-threshold with sleepy hum, and runs past the guards at -the gate. But these are bees that have wandered too far afield -overnight, tempted by the sunny warmth of the evening. The dusk has -caught them, and obliterated their flying-marks. They have perforce -camped out under some broad leaf, to be wakened by the earliest light of -morning and hurry home with their belated loads. - -The sun is well up over the hillbrow before the visible life of the -bee-garden begins to rouse in earnest. The water-seekers are the first -to appear. Every hive has its traditional dipping-place, generally the -oozy margin of some neighbouring pond, where the house-martins have been -wheeling and crying since the first grey of dawn. Now the bees’ clear -undertone begins to mingle with the chippering chorus. In a little while -there is a thin straight line of humming music stretched between the -hives and the pond: it could not be straighter if a surveyor had made it -with his level. Again a little while, and this long searchlight of -melody thrown out by the bee-garden veers to the north. You may track it -straight over copse and meadow, seeing not a bee overhead, but guided -unerringly by the arrow-flight of music, until, on the far hillside, it -is lost in a perfect roar of sound. Here the white-clover is in almost -full blossom again: in southern England at least it is always the second -crop of clover that yields the most plentiful harvest to the hives. - -It must be a disturbing thing to those kindergarten moralists who hold -the bee up to youth for an example of industry and prudence to learn that -she is by no means an early riser; though, at this time of year, she is -undoubtedly both wealthy and wise. For it is her very wisdom that now -makes her a lie-abed. When the iron is hot, she will not be slow in -striking. But it is nectar, not dewdrops, from which she makes her -honey. Very wisely she waits until the sun has drunk up the dew from the -clover-bells, and then she hurries forth to garner their undiluted -sweets. Even then, perhaps, three-fourths of her burden will be carried -uselessly. In the brewing-vats of the hive the nectar must stand and -steam until three parts of its original bulk has evaporated, and its -sugar has been inverted into grape-sugar. Then it is honey, but not -before. When we see the fanning-army at work by the entrance of a hive, -it is not alone an undoubted passion for pure air that moves the bees to -such ingenious activity. In the height of the honey season many pints of -vaporised liquid must be given off by the maturing stores in the course -of a day and night, and all this water must be got rid of. Herein is -shown the wisdom of the bee-master who makes the walls of his hives of a -material that is a bad conductor of heat. It is a first necessity of -health to the bees that the moisture in the air, which they are -incessantly fanning out at this time, should not condense until it is -safely wafted from the hive. A cold-walled hive can easily become a -quagmire. - -The bee-garden is quiet now in the sweet virgin light of the summer’s -morning; but the thought of it as containing so many houses of sleep, -true of the village with its thatched human dwellings, could not well be -farther from the truth in regard to the village of hives. There is -little sleep in a bee-hive in summer. Of any common period of rest, of -any quiet night when all but the sentinels at the gate are slumbering, of -any general time of relaxation, there is absolutely none. Each -individual bee—forager or nurse, comb-builder or storekeeper—works until -she can work no more, and then stops by the way, or crawls into the -nearest empty cell for a brief siesta. But the life of the hive itself -never halts, never wavers in summertime, night or day. Go to it morning, -noon, or night in the hot July season, and you will always find it -driving onward unremittingly. The crowd is surging to and fro. There is -ever the busy deep labour-note. Its people are building, brewing, -wax-making, scavenging, wet-nursing, being born and dying: it is all -going on without pause or break inside those four reverberating walls, -while you stand without in the dew-soaked grass and level sunbeams -wondering how it is that all the world can be at full flood-tide of merry -life and music while these mysterious hive people give scarce a sign. - -It is at night chiefly that the combs are built. The wax, that is a -secretion from the bees’ own bodies, will generate only under great heat, -and the temperature of the hive is naturally greatest when all the family -is at home. In the night also such works as transferring a large mass of -honey from one comb to another are undertaken. It is curious to note -that at night time the drones get together in the remotest parts of the -hive, apparently to keep up the heat in these distant quarters, which are -away from the main cluster of worker-bees. There is hardly another thing -in creation, perhaps, with a worse name than the drone-bee. But like all -bad things he is not so bad as he is represented. Apart from his main -and obvious use, the drone fulfils at least one very important office. -His habit is not to leave his snug corner until close upon midday. Thus, -when every able-bodied worker bee is out foraging, the temperature of the -hive is sustained by the presence of the drones, and the young bee-brood -is in no danger of chilling. - -Though the supreme direction of all affairs in a bee-hive falls to the -lot of the worker-bees, the queen-mother is second to none in industry. -At this time of year she goes about her task with a dogged patience and -assiduity pathetic to witness. She may have to supply from two thousand -to three thousand brood-cells with eggs in the course of a single day, -and she is for ever wandering through the crowded corridors of the hive -looking for empty cradles. The old bee-masters believed that the queen -was always accompanied in these unending promenades by exactly a dozen -bees, whom they called the Twelve Apostles. It is true that whenever the -queen stops in her march she is immediately surrounded by a number of -bees, who form themselves into a ring, keeping their heads ceremoniously -towards her. But close observation reveals the fact that the queen-bee -is never followed about by a permanent retinue. When she moves to go on, -the ring breaks and disperses before her; but the bees who gather round -her on her next halt are those who happen to occupy the space of comb she -has then reached. - -The truth seems to be that she is passed from “hand to hand” over the -combs of the brood-nest, and is stopped wherever a cell requires -replenishing. Each bee that she encounters on her path turns front and -touches her gently with her antenna. The queen constantly returns these -salutes as she moves, and it looks exactly as if she were going the -rounds of her domain and collecting information. Often she is stopped by -half a dozen bees in a solid phalanx, and carefully headed off in a new -direction. She looks into every cell as she goes, and when she has -lowered her body into a cell, the Apostles instantly gather about her, -with strokings and caresses. But their number is seldom twelve. It -varies according to the bulk and length of the queen herself, and is more -often sixteen than a dozen. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV -THE YELLOW PERIL IN HIVELAND - - -IN the hedgerow that surrounds the bee-garden the wrens and robins have -been singing all the morning long. Still a few pale sulphur buds remain -on the evening-primroses. The balsams make a glowing patch of magenta by -the garden gate. Over the door porch of the old thatched cottage purple -clematis climbs bravely; and the nasturtiums still flaunt their scarlet -and gold in the sunny angle of the wall. But, for all the colour and the -music, the hot sun, and the serene blue air overhead, you can never -forget that it is October. If the towering elm-trees by the lane-side -showed no fretting of amber in their greenery, nor the beeches sent down -their steady rain of russet, there would still be one indubitable mark of -the season—the voice of the hives themselves. - -Rich and wavering and low in the sweet autumn sunlight, it comes over to -you now with the very spirit of rest in every halting tone. There is -work, of a kind, doing in the bee-garden. A steady tide of bees is -stemming out from and home to every hive. But there is none of the press -and busy clamour of bygone summer days. It is only a make-believe of -duty. Each bee, as she swings up into the sunshine, hovers a while -before setting easy sail for the ivy in the lane; and, on returning, she -may bask for whole minutes together on the hot hive-roof. There is no -sort of hurry; little as there may be to do abroad, there is less at -home. - -But to one section of the bee-community, these slack October hours bring -no cessation of toil. The guards at the gate must redouble their -vigilance. Cut off from most of their natural supplies, the yellow -pirates—the wasps—are continually prowling about the entrance; and, in -these lean times, will dare all dangers for a fill of honey. Incessant -fierce skirmishes take place on the alighting-board. The guards hurl -themselves at each adventuress in turn. The wasp, calculating coward -that she is, invariably declines battle, and makes off; but only to -return a little later, hoping for the unwary moment that is sure to come. -While the whole strength of the picket is engaged with other would-be -pilferers, she slips round the scuffling crew, and plunges into the -fragrant gloom of the hive. - -The variation in temperament among the members of a bee-colony is never -better illustrated than by the way in which these marauders are received -and dealt with. The wasp never tries to pick a way to the honey-stores -through the close packed ranks of the bees. She keeps to the sides of -the hive, and works her way up by a series of quick darts whenever a path -opens before her. Evidently her plan is to avoid contact with the -home-keeping bees, which, at this time of year, have little more to do -than loiter over the combs, or tuck themselves away in the empty -brood-cells by the hour together. But in her desultory advance, she -often cannons against single bees; and then she may be either mildly -interrogated, fiercely challenged, or may be allowed to pass with a -friendly stroke of the antennæ, as though she were an orthodox member of -the hive. Again, you may see her recognised for a stranger by three or -four workers simultaneously. She will be surrounded and closely -questioned. The bees draw back and confer among themselves in obvious -doubt. The wasp knows better than to await the result of their -deliberations; by the time they look for her again, she is gone. - -She carries her life in her hand, and well she knows it. The farther she -goes, the more suspicious and menacing the bees become. Now she has wild -little scuffles here and there with the boldest of them, but her superior -adroitness and pace save her at every turn. It is about an even wager -that she will reach the brimming honey-cells, load herself up to the -chin, and escape home to her paper-stronghold with her spoils. - -As often as not, however, these hive-robbing wasps pay the last great -price for their temerity. Those who study bee-life closely and -unremittingly, year after year, find it difficult to escape the -conclusion that there are certain bees in the crowd who are mentally and -physically in advance of their sisters. The notion of the old -bee-keepers—that there were generals and captains as well as -rank-and-file in the hive—seems, in fact, to be not entirely without -latter-day confirmation. And it is just the chance of falling in with -one of these bees that constitutes, for the wasp, the main risk when -robbing the hives. - -If this happens, there is no longer any doubt of the turn affairs are to -take. At an unlucky moment the wasp brushes against one of these -hive-constables and instead of indifference, or, at most, a spiteful -tweak of the leg or wing in passing, she finds herself suddenly at deadly -grips. The bee’s attack is as swift as it is furious. Seizing the -yellow honey-thief with all six legs, she hacks away at her with her -jaws, at the same time curving her body inwards with her cruel sting -bared to the hilt. Even now, although more than equal to one bee at any -time, the policy of the wasp is to refuse the fight, and to run. Her -long legs give her a better reach. She forces her adversary away, -disengages, and charges off towards the dim light of the entrance. - -In all that follows, this is the beacon that guides her. If she could -get a clear course, her greater speed would soon out-distance all -pursuit. But the sudden clash of arms in the quiet of the hive has an -extraordinary effect on the sluggish colony. The alarm spreads on every -side. Wherever the wasp runs now she is met with snapping jaws and -detaining embraces. As she rushes madly down the comb, she is -continually pulled up in full flight by bees hanging on to her legs, her -wings, her black waving antenna. A dozen times she shakes them all off, -and speeds on, the spot of light and safety in the distance ever growing -brighter and larger. But she seldom escapes with her life if affairs -have reached this pass. The way now is alive with enemies. She is -stopped and headed off in all directions. Trying this way and that for a -loophole, she finally gives it up and turns on her tracks, bewildered and -panic-stricken, only to rush straight into the midst of more foes. - -The end is always the same. Another of the stalwarts spies her, and in a -moment the two are locked in berserk conflict. Together they drop down -between the combs and thud to the bottom of the hive. Here it is hard to -tell what happens. The fight is so fierce and sharp, and the two whirl -round and tumble over and over together so wildly that you can make out -little else than a spinning blur of brown and yellow. A great bright -drop of honey flies off: in her extremity the wasp has disgorged her -spoils. Perhaps for an instant the warriors may get wedged up in a -corner, and then you may see that they are not lunging at random with -their stilettos, but each is trying for a side-thrust on the body; these -mail-clad creatures are vulnerable to each other only at one point—the -spiracles, or breathing-holes. Often the wasp deals the first fatal -blow, and the bee drops off mortally hurt. She may even dispose of three -or four of her assailants thus in quick succession. But each time -another bee closes with her at once. For the wasp there can only be one -end to it. Sooner or later she gets the finishing stroke. - -And then there follows a grim little comedy. The bee, torn and ragged as -she is from the incessant gnashing of those razor-edged yellow jaws, -nevertheless pauses not a moment. She grips her dying adversary by the -base of the wing, and struggles off with her towards the entrance of the -hive. It is a hard job, but she succeeds at last. Alternately pushing -her burden before her, or dragging it behind, at length she wins out into -the open, and, with a final desperate effort, tumbles the wasp over the -edge of the footboard down into the grass below. Yet this is not enough. -The victory must be celebrated in the old warrior fashion. Rent and -bleeding and exhausted as she is, she finds she can still fly. And up -into the mellow sunbeams of the October morning she sweeps, giddily and -uncertainly, piercing the air with her shrill song of triumph. Through -the murmurous quiet of the bee-garden, it rings out like a cry in the -night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV -THE UNBUSY BEE - - -IT is well-nigh two months now since the hives were packed down for the -winter, and the bees are flying as thick as on many a summer’s day. - - [Picture: “The Guardian of the Hives”] - -Yet no one could mistake their flight for the summer flight. It is not -the straight-away eager rush up into the blue vault of the sunny -morning—high away over hedgerow and village roof-top towards the -clover-fields, whitening the far-off hillside with their tens of -thousands of honey-brimming bells. It is rather the vagrant, purposeless -hanging-about of an habitually busy people forced to make holiday. -Through it all there runs the pathetic interest in trifles, half-hearted -and wholly artificial, that you see among the lolling crowd of men when a -great strike is on—the thoughtful kicking at odd pebbles; -stride-measuring on the flag-stones; little vortices of excitement got up -over minute incidents that would otherwise pass unnoticed; the earnest -flagellation of memory over past happenings more trivial still. - -Thus the bees idle about and wander, on this still November morning, -doing just the things you would never expect a bee to do. The greater -number of them merely take long desultory reaches a-wing through the -sunshine, going off in one objectless direction, turning about at the end -of a few yards with just as little apparent reason, coming back to the -hive at length on no more obvious errand than that, where there is -nothing to do, doing it in another place bears at least the semblance of -achievement. - -But many of them succeed in conjuring up an almost ludicrous assumption -of business. One comes driving out of the hive-entrance at a great pace, -designedly, as you would think, going out of her way to bustle the few -bees lounging there, as if the entrance-board were still thronged with -the streaming crowd of summer days foregone. She stops an instant to rub -her eyes clear of the hive-darkness; tries her wings a little to make -sure of their powers for a heavy load; then, with a deep note like the -twang of a guitar-string, launches out into the sun-steeped air. But it -is all a vain pretence, and well she knows it. Watch her as she flies, -and you will see her busy ding-dong pace slacken a dozen yards away. She -fetches a turn or two above the leafless apple-branches of the garden, -with the rest of the chanting, workless crew. She may presently start -off again at a livelier speed than ever, as though vexed at being -allured, even for a moment, from the duty that calls her away to the -mist-clad hill. But it always ends in the same fashion. A little later -she is fluttering down on the threshold of the silent hive, and running -busily in, keeping up the transparent fiction, you see, to the last. - - - -_An Officious Dame_ - - -Many more set themselves to look for sweets where they must know there is -little likelihood of finding any. Scarce one goes near the glowing belt -of pompons rimming the garden on every side. But here is one bee, an -ancient dame, with ragged wings and shiny thorax, poised outside a cranny -in the old brick wall, and examining it with serious, shrill inquiry. -She is obviously making-believe, to while away the time, that it is a -choice blossom full of nectar. She knows it is nothing of the kind; but -that will neither check her ardour nor expedite the piece of play-acting. -She spins it out to the utmost, and leaves the one dusty crevice at last -only to go through the same performance at the next. - -I often wonder wherein lies the fascination to a hive-bee of an open -window or door. Sitting here ledgering in the little office of the -bee-farm—where no honey, nor the smell of honey, is ever allowed to -come—sooner or later, in the quiet of the golden morning, the familiar -voice peals out. It is startling at first, unless you are well used to -it—this sudden high-pitched clamour breaking the silence about you; and -the oldest bee-man must lay down pen or rule, and look up from his work -to scan the intruder. - -She has darted in at the door, and has stopped in mid-air a foot or two -within the room. The sound she makes is very different from that of a -bee in ordinary flight. You cannot mistake its meaning; it is one -long-drawn-out, musical note of exclamation, an intense, reiterated -wonder at all about her—the subdued light, the walls covered with -book-shelves, the littered table, and the vast wingless, drab-coloured -creature sitting in the midst of it all, like a funnel-spider in his -snare. Bees entering a room in this way seldom stop more than a second -or two, and, more rarely still, alight. As a rule, they are gone the -next moment as swiftly as they came, leaving the impression that their -quick retreat was due to a sudden accession of fear; just as children, -venturing into some dark unwonted place, at first boldly enough, will -suddenly turn tail and flee, with terror hard upon their heels. - -But what should bring bees into such unlikely situations during these -warm bright breaks in the wintry weather, when they seldom or never -venture out of the range of hives and fields in the season of plenty? It -would be curious to know whether people who have never kept bees, nor -handled hives, are habitually pried upon in this way; or whether it is -only among bee-men the thing occurs. Naturalists are commonly agreed -that bees possess an extraordinary sense of smell; indeed, the fact is -patent to all who know anything of hive-life. Now, years of stinging -render the bee-master immune to the ordinary results of a prod from a -bee’s acid-charged stiletto. There is only a sharp prick, a little -irritation at the moment, but seldom any after-effects of swelling or -inflammation, local or general. But all this injection of formic acid -under the skin year after year might very well have a cumulative effect, -so that the much-stung bee-man would eventually acquire in his own person -the permanent odour of the hive. And this, scented afar off, may well be -the attraction that brings these roving scrutineers to places having, in -themselves, no sort of interest to the winged hive-people. - - - -_The Perils of_ “_Immunity_” - - -The mention of stinging brings back a thought that has often occurred to -me. Do lovers of honey ever quite realise the price that must be paid -before their favourite sweet is there for them on the breakfast-table, -filling the room with the mingled perfume from a whole countryside? It -is easy to talk of immunity from the effect of bee-stings; but the truth -is that this immunity means, for the bee-master, no more than power to go -on with his work in spite of the stinging. And this power is not a -permanent one. It is brought about by incessant pricks from the living -poisoned needle; the ordeal must be continuous, or the immunity will soon -pass away. Over-care in handling bees is good only up to a certain -point. The bee-man who, by continual practice, has brought this gentlest -art to its highest perfection, so that he can do what he likes with his -own bees without fear of harm, has, in a sense, created for himself a -kind of fools’ paradise. All the time his once dear-bought privilege is -slowly forsaking him. He is like the Listerist faddist, who so destroys -all disease germs in his vicinity that his natural disease-resisting -organisation becomes atrophied through want of work. Then, perhaps, his -precautions are upheld for a season, whereupon a particularly virulent -microbe happens by; and, finding the house empty, swept, and garnished, -calls in the seven devils with a will. - -Such a contingency is always in wait for the stay-at-home, never-stung -bee-master of neighbourly proclivities. Sooner or later he will be -called to help some maladroit in bee-craft, whose bees have been -thoroughly vitiated by years of “monkeying.” And then the rod will come -out of pickle to a lively tune. Of course, a little stinging is nothing; -but there is no doubt that, with anything over a dozen stings or so at a -time, the most hardened and experienced bee-man may easily stand, for a -minute or two at least, in danger of losing his life. - -So it happened to me once. I had gone to look at a neighbour’s stocks. -The bees were as quiet as lambs until I came to the seventh hive; and -then, with hardly a note of warning, they set upon me like a pack of -flying bull-dogs. It is long enough ago now, but I can still give a -pretty accurate account of the symptoms of acute formic-acid poisoning. -It began with a curious pricking and burning over the entire inner -surface of the mouth and throat. This rapidly spread, until my whole -body seemed on fire, and the target, as it were, for millions of red-hot -darts. Then first my tongue and lips, and every other part of head and -neck, in quick succession, began to swell. My eyes felt as though they -were being driven out of my head. My breathing machinery seized up, and -all but stopped. A giddy congestion of brain followed. Finally, sight -and hearing failed, and then almost consciousness. - -I can just remember crawling away, and thrusting head and shoulders deep -into a thick lilac bush, where the bees ceased to molest me. But it was -a good hour or more before I could hold the smoker straight again, and -get on with the next stock. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI -THE LONG NIGHT IN THE HIVE - - -THERE are few things more mystifying to the student of bee-life than the -way in which winter is passed in the hive. Probably nineteen out of -every twenty people, who take a merely theoretical interest in the -subject, entertain no doubt on the matter. Bees hibernate, they will -tell you—pass the winter in a state of torpor, just as many other -insects, reptiles, and animals have been proved to do. And, though the -truth forces itself upon scientific investigators that there is no such -thing as hibernation, in the accepted sense of the word, among hive-bees, -the perplexing part of the whole question is that, as far as modern -observers understand it, the honey-bee ought to hibernate, even if, as a -matter of fact, she does not. - -For consider what a world of trouble would be saved if, at the coming of -winter, the worker-bees merely got together in a compact cluster in their -warm nook, with the queen in their midst; and thenceforward slept the -long cold months away, until the hot March sun struck into them with the -tidings that the willows—first caterers for the year’s winged -myriads—were in golden flower once more; and there was nothing to do but -rouse, and take their fill. It would revolutionise the whole aspect of -bee-life, and, to all appearances, vastly for the better. There would be -no more need to labour through the summer days, laying up winter stores. -Life could become for the honey-bee what it is to most other -insects—merry and leisurely. There would be time for dancing in the -sunbeams, and long siestas under rose-leaves; and it would be enough if -each little worker took home an occasional full honey-sac or two for the -babies, instead of wearing out nerve and body in all that desperate -toiling to and fro. - -Yet, for some inscrutable reason, the honey-bee elects to keep -awake—uselessly awake, it seems—throughout the four months or so during -which outdoor work is impossible; and to this apparently undesirable, -unprofitable end, she sacrifices all that makes such a life as hers worth -the living from a human point of view. - - - -_Restlessness_, _and the Reason for It_ - - -You can, however, seldom look at wild Nature’s ways from the human -standpoint without danger of postulating too much, or, worse still, -leaving some vital, though invisible thing out of the argument. And this -latter, on a little farther consideration, proves to be what we are now -doing. Prolonged study of hive-life in winter will reveal one hitherto -unsuspected fact. At this time, far from settling down into a life of -sleepy inactivity, the queen-bee seems to develop a restlessness and -impatience not to be observed in her at any other season. It is clear -that the workers would lie quiet enough, if they had only themselves to -consider. They collect in a dense mass between the central combs of the -hive, the outer members of the company just keeping in touch with the -nearest honey-cells. These cells are broached by the furthermost bees, -and the food is distributed from tongue to tongue. As the nearest -store-cells are emptied, the whole concourse moves on, the compacted -crowd of bees thus journeying over the comb at a pace which is steady yet -inconceivably slow. - -But this policy seems in no way to commend itself to the queen. Whenever -you look into the hive, even on the coldest winter’s day, she is -generally alert and stirring, keeping the worker-bees about her in a -constant state of wakefulness and care. Though she has long since ceased -to lay, she is always prying about the comb, looking apparently for empty -cells wherein to lay eggs, after her summer habit. Night or day, she -seems always in this unresting state of mind, and the work of getting -their queen through the winter season is evidently a continual source of -worry to the members of the colony. Altogether, the most logical -inference to be drawn from any prolonged and careful investigation of -hive-life in winter is that the queen-bee herself is the main obstacle to -any system of hibernation being adopted in the hive. This lying-by for -the cold weather, however desirable and practicable it may be for the -great army of workers, is obviously dead against the natural instincts of -the queen. And since, being awake, she must be incessantly watched and -fed and cared for, it follows that the whole colony must wake with her, -or at least as many as are necessary to keep her nourished and preserved -from harm. - - - -_The Queen a Slave to Tradition_ - - -Those, however, who are familiar with the resourceful nature of the -honey-bee might expect her to effect an ingenious compromise in these as -in all other circumstances; and the facts seem to point to such a -compromise. It is not easy to be sure of anything when watching the -winter cluster in a hive, for the bees lie so close that inspection -becomes at times almost futile. But one thing at least is certain. The -brood-combs between which the cluster forms are not merely covered by -bees. Into every cell in the comb some bee has crept, head first, and -lies there quite motionless. This attitude is also common at other times -of the year, and there is little doubt that the tired worker-bees do -rest, and probably sleep, thus, whenever an empty cell is available. But -now almost the entire range of brood-cells is filled with resting bees, -like sailors asleep in the bunks of a forecastle; and it is not -unreasonable to suppose that each unit in the cluster alternately watches -with the queen, or takes her “watch below” in the comb-cells. - -That there should be in this matter of wintering so sharp a divergence -between the instincts of the queen-mother and her children is in no way -surprising, when we recollect how entirely they differ on almost all -other points. How this fundamental difference has come about in the -course of ages of bee-life is too long a story for these pages. It has -been fully dealt with in an earlier volume by the same writer—“The Lore -of the Honey-Bee”—and to this the reader is referred. But the fact is -pretty generally admitted that, while the little worker-bee is a creature -specially evolved to suit a unique environment, the mother-bee remains -practically identical with the mother-bees of untold ages back. She -retains many of the instincts of the race as it existed under tropic -conditions, when there was no alternation of hot and cold seasons; and -hence her complete inability to understand, and consequent rebellion -against the needs of modern times. - - - -_The Future Evolution of the Hive_ - - -Whether the worker-bees will ever teach her to conform to the changed -conditions is an interesting problem. We know how they have “improved” -life in the hive—how a matriarchal system of government has been -established there, the duty of motherhood relegated to one in the thirty -thousand or so, and how the males are suffered to live only so long as -their procreative powers are useful to the community. It is little -likely that the omnipotent worker-bee will stop here. Failing the -eventual production of a queen-bee who can be put to sleep for the -winter, they may devise means of getting rid of her in the same way as -they disburden themselves of the drones. In some future age the -mother-bee may be ruthlessly slaughtered at the end of each season, -another queen being raised when breeding-time again comes round. Then, -no doubt, honey-bees would hibernate, as do so many other creatures of -the wilds; and the necessity for all that frantic labour throughout the -summer days be obviated. - -This is by no means so fantastic a notion as it appears. Ingenious as is -the worker-bee, there is one thing that the mere man-scientist of to-day -could teach her. At present, her system of queen-production is to -construct a very large cell, four or five times as large as that in which -the common worker is raised. Into this cell, at an early stage in its -construction, the old queen is induced to deposit an egg; or the workers -themselves may furnish it with an egg previously laid elsewhere; or -again—as sometimes happens—the large cell may be erected over the site of -an ordinary worker-cell already containing a fertile ovum. This egg in -no way differs from that producing the common, undersized, sex-atrophied -worker-bee; but by dint of super-feeding on a specially rich diet, and -unlimited space wherein to develop, the young grub eventually grows into -a queen-bee, with all the queen’s extraordinary attributes. A queen may -be, and often is, raised by the workers from a grub instead of an egg. -The grub is enclosed in, or possibly in some cases transferred to, the -queen-cell; and, providing it is not more than three days old, this grub -will also become a fully developed queen-bee. - - - -_Hibernation_, _and no Honey_ - - -But, thus far in the history of bee-life, it has been impossible for a -hive to re-queen itself unless a newly-laid egg, or very young larva, has -been available for the purpose. Hibernation without a queen is, -therefore, in the present stage of honey-bee wisdom, unattainable, -because there would be neither egg nor grub to work from in the spring, -when another queen-mother was needed, and the stock must inevitably -perish. Here, however, the scientific bee-master could give his colonies -an invaluable hint, though greatly to his own disadvantage. In the -ordinary heat of the brood-chamber an egg takes about three days to -hatch, but it has been ascertained that a sudden fall in temperature will -often delay this process. The germ of life in all eggs is notoriously -hardy; and it is conceivable that by a system of cold storage, as -carefully studied and ingeniously regulated as are most other affairs of -the hive, the bees might succeed in preserving eggs throughout the winter -in a state of suspended, but not irresuscitable life. And if ever the -honey-bee, in some future age, discovers this possibility, she will -infallibly become a true hibernating insect, and join the ranks of the -summer loiterers and merry-makers. But the bee-master will get no more -honey. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII -THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BEE-GARDEN - - -“BOOKS,” said the Bee-Master of Warrilow, looking round through grey -wreaths of tobacco-smoke at his crowded shelves, “books seem to tell ye -most things ne’ersome-matter; but when it comes to books on bees—well, -’tis somehow quite another pair o’ shoes.” - -He stopped to listen to the wind, blowing great guns outside in the -winter darkness. The little cottage seemed to crouch and shudder beneath -the blast, and the rain drove against the lattice-windows with a sobbing, -timorous note. The bee-master drew the old oak settle nearer to the -fire, and sat for a moment silently watching the comfortable blaze. - -“‘True as print,’” he went on, lapsing more and more into the quaint, -tangy Sussex dialect, as his theme impressed him; “’twas an old saying o’ -my father’s; and right enough, maybe, in his time. A’ couldn’t read, to -be sure; so a’ might have been ower unsceptical. But books was too -expensive in those days to put many lies into.” - -He took down at random from the case on the chimney-breast about a dozen -modern, paper-covered treatises on bee-keeping, and threw them, rather -contemptuously, on the table. - -“I’m not saying, mind ye,” he hastened to add, “that there’s a word -against truth in any one of them. They’re all true enough, no doubt, for -they contradict each other at every turn. ’Tis as if one man said roses -was white; and another said, ‘No, you’re wrong, they’re yaller’; and a -third said, ‘Y’are both wrong, they’re red.’ And when folks are in -dispute in this way, because they agree, and not because they differ, -there’s little hope of ever pacifying them. - -“I heard tell once of a woman bee-keeper years ago, that had a good word -about bees. Said she, ‘They never do anything invariably’; and she -warn’t far off the truth. She knew her own sex, did wise Mrs Tupper. -Now, the trouble with the book-writers on bees is that they try to make a -science of something that can never rightly be a science at all. They -try to add two numbers together that they don’t know, an’ that are allers -changing, and are surprised if they don’t arrive at an exact total. -There’s the bees, and there’s the weather: together the result will be so -many pounds of honey. If the English climate went by the calendar, and -the bees worked according to unchangeable rules, you might reckon out -your honey-take within a spoonful, and bee-keeping would be little more -than sitting in a summer-house and figuring on a slate. But with frosts -in June, and August weather in February, and your honey-makers naught but -a tribe of whimsy, sex-thwarted wimmin-folk, a nation of everlasting -spinsters—how can bee-keeping be anything else than a kind of -walking-tower in a furrin land, when every twist an’ turn o’ the way -shows something cur’ous or different?” - -He stopped to recharge his pipe from the earthen tobacco-jar, shaped like -an old straw beehive, which had yielded solace to many a past generation -of the Warrilow clan. - -“’Tis just this matter of sex,” he continued, “that these book-writing -bee-masters seem to leave altogether out of their reckoning. And yet it -lies well to the heart of the whole business. In an average prosperous -hive there are about thirty thousand of these little stunted, -quick-witted worker-bees, not one of which but could have grown into a -fully-developed mother-bee, twice the size, and laying her thousands of -eggs a day, if only her early bringings-up had been different. But -nature has doomed her to be an old maid from her very cradle, although -she is born with all the instincts and capabilities for motherhood that -you wonder at in a fully grown, prolific queen. And yet the bee-masters -expect her to accept her fate without a murmur; to live and work to-day -just as she did yesterday and the day before; to tend and feed patiently -the young bees that she has been denied all part in producing; to support -a lot of lazy drones in luxury and idleness; and generally to act like a -reasonable, contented, happy creature all the way through.” - -He took three or four long, contemplative pulls at his Broseley clay, -then came back to his subject and his dialect together. - -“’Tis no wonder,” said he “that the little worker-bee gets crotchety time -an’ again. Wimmin-creeturs is all of much the same kidney, whether ’tis -bees or humans. Their natur’ is not to look ahead, but just to do the -next thing. They sees sideways mostly, like a horse with an eye-shade -but no blinkers. But now and then they ups and looks straight afore ’em, -and then ’tis trouble brewing fer masters o’ all kinds, whether in hives -or homes o’ men. Lot’s wife, she were a kind o’ bee-woman; and so were -Eve. I’d ha’ been glad to ha’ knowed ’em both, bless ’em! The world ’ud -be all the sweeter fer a few more like they. Harm done through being too -much of a woman-creetur is never all harm in the long run, depend on’t.” - -With his great sunburnt hand he stirred the flimsy, dog-eared pamphlets -about thoughtfully, as a man will stir leaves with a stick. - - [Picture: “A Natural Honey-Bees’ Nest”] - -“Now, ’tis just this way with bees,” he went on. “If you study how to -keep ’em busy, with plain, right-down necessity hard at their heels, all -goes well. The bees have no time for anything but work. As the supers -fill with honey you take them off and put empty ones in their place. The -queen below fills comb after comb with eggs, and you make the brood-nest -larger and larger. There is allers more room everywhere, dropped down -from the skies, like; no matter how fast the stock increases, nor how -much the bees bring in. Just their plain day’s work is enough, and -more’n enough, for the best of them. And so the summer heat goes by; the -honey harvest is ended; and the bees have had no chance to dwell upon, -and grow rebellious over, the wise wrong that nature has done their sex. -In bee-life ’tis always evil that’s wrought, not by want o’ thought, but -by too much of it. Bad beemanship is just giving bees time to think.” - -“Many’s the time,” continued the bee-master, thrusting the bowl of his -empty pipe into the heart of the wood-embers for lustration, and taking a -clean one down for immediate use from the rack over his head; “many’s the -time an’ oft it has come ower me that perhaps bees warn’t allers as we -see them now. Maybe, way back in the times when England was a tropic -country, tens of thousands o’ years ago, there was no call for them to -live packed together in one dark chamber, as they do to-day. If the year -was warm all the twelve months through, and flowers allers blooming, -there ’ud be no need fer a winter-larder, nor fer any hives at all. Like -as not each woman-bee lived by herself then, in some dry nook or other; -made her little nest of comb, and brought up her own children, happy and -comfortable. Maybe, even—and I can well believe it of her, knowing her -natur’ as I do—she kept a gurt, buzzing, blusterous drone about the place -an’ let him eat and drink in idleness while she did all the work, willing -enough, for the two. Then, as the world slowly cooled down through the -centuries, there came a short time in each year when the flowers ceased -to bloom, and the bees found they had to put by a store of honey, to last -till the heat and the blossoms showed up again. And there was another -thing they must have found out when the cold spell was over the earth. -Bees that kept apart by themselves died of cold, but those that huddled -together in crowds lived warm enough throughout the winter. The more -there were of ’em the warmer they kept, and the less food they needed. -And so, as the winters got longer and colder, the bee-colonies increased, -until at last, from force of habit, they took to keeping together all the -year round. So you see, like as not, ’tis experience as has brought ’em -to build their cities of to-day, just as experience, or the One ye never -mention, has put the same thing into the hearts o’ men.” - -A sudden flaw of wind struck the little cottage with a sound like -thunder, and made the cut-glass lustres on the mantle tinkle and glitter -in the yellow candle-glow. The old bee-man stopped, with his pipe -half-way to his mouth, nodded gravely towards the window, in a kind of -obeisance to the elements, and then resumed his theme. - -“But there’s a many things about bees,” he said, “that no man ’ull come -to the rights of, until all airthly things is made clear in the Day o’ -Days. The great trouble and hindrance to bee-keeping is the swarm, and a -good bee-master nowadays tries all he can to circumvent it. But the old -habit comes back again and again, and often with stocks of bees that -haven’t had a fit o’ it for years. Now, did ye ever think what swarming -must have been in the beginning?” - -He suddenly levelled the pipe-stem straight at my head. - -“Well, ’tis all speckilation, but here’s my idee o’ it, for what ’tis -worth. Take the wapses: they’re thousands of years behind the honey-bee -in development, and so they give ye a look, so to speak, into the past. -The end of a wapse-colony comes when the females are ready in November; -and hundreds of them go off to hide for the winter, each in some hole or -crevice, until, in the warm spring days, each comes out to start a new -and separate home. Well, perhaps the honey-bees did much the same thing -long ago, when they were all mother-bees, in the time when the world was -young. And perhaps the swarm-fever in a hive to-day is naught but a kind -o’ memory of this, still working, though its main use is gone. The books -here will tell ye o’ many other things brought about by swarming, right -an’ good enough with the old-fashioned hives. Yet that gainsays nothing. -Nature allers works double an’ treble handed in all her dealings. Her -every stroke tells far and wide, like the thousand ripples you make when -you pitch a stone in a pond.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII -HONEY-CRAFT OLD AND NEW - - -THERE never comes, in early April, that first bright hot day which means -the beginning of outdoor work on the bee-farm, but I fall to thinking of -old times with a great longing to have them back again. - -Modern beemanship, at least to the wide-awake folk in the craft, brings -in gold pieces now where formerly one had much ado to make shillings. -But profit cannot always be reckoned in money. The old mysteries and the -old delusions were a sort of capital that paid cent per cent if you only -humoured them aright. Bee-men, who flourished when there was a young -queen upon the throne, wore their ignorance as the parson his silk and -lawn. It was something that set them apart and above their neighbours. -All that the bees did was put to their credit, just for the trouble of a -wise wag of the head and a little timely reticence. The organ-blower -worked in full view of the congregation, while the player sat invisibly -within, so the blower, after the common trend of earthly affairs, got all -the glory for the tune. - -There are no mysteries now in honey-craft. Science has dragooned the -fairies out of sight and hearing as a man treads out sparks in the whin. -But, though the mysteries have gone, the old music of the hives is still -here as sweet as ever. This morning, when the sun was but an hour over -the hilltop, I rose from my bed, and, coming down the creaking stair -through the silence and half-darkness, threw the heavy old house-door -back. At once the level sunshine and the song of bees and birds came -pouring in together. There was the loud humming of bees in the leafing -honeysuckle of the porch, and the soft low note of the hives beyond. In -its plan to-day Warrilow Bee-farm reveals the whole story of its growth -from times long gone to the present. All the hives near the cottage are -old-fashioned skeps of straw, covered in with three sticks and a hackle. -A little way down the slope the ancient bee-boxes begin, eight-sided -Stewartons mostly, with the green veneer of decades upon some of them. -Beyond these stand the first rack-frame hives that ever came to Warrilow; -and thence, stretching away down the sunny hillside in long trim rows, -are the modern frame-bar hives, spick and span in their new Joseph’s -coats of paint, with the gillyflowers driving golden shafts between them, -until they reach the line of sheds—comb and honey-stores, -extracting-house, and workshops—marking the distant lane-side. - - - -_The Water-carriers_ - - -As I stood in the doorway, caught by the mesmeric sheen of the light and -the beauty of the morning, the humming of the bees overhead grew louder -and louder. There were no flowers as yet to attract them, but in early -April the dense canopy of honeysuckle here is always besieged with bees, -directly the sun has warmed the clinging dewdrops. These were the -water-carriers from the hives. Water at this time is one of the main -necessities of bee-life. With it the workers are able to reduce the -thick honey and the dry pollen to the right consistency for consumption, -and can then generate the bee-milk with which the young larvæ are fed. -Later on in the day the water-fetchers will crowd in hundreds to the oozy -pond-side down in the valley—every bee-garden has its ancestral -drinking-place invariably resorted to year after year. But thus early -the pond-water is too cold for safe transport by so chilly a mortal as -the little worker-bee; so Nature warms a temporary supply for her here -where the dew trembles like drops of molten rainbow at the tip of each -woodbine leaf. - -I drank myself a deep draught from the well that goes down a sheer sixty -feet into the virgin chalk of the hillside, and fell to loitering through -the garden ways. Though it was so early, the little oil-engine down -below in the hive-making shed was already coughing shrilly through its -vent-pipe, and the saw thrumming. Here and there among the hives my men -stooped at their work. The pony was harnessing to the cart, and would -soon be plodding the three-mile-long road to the station with the day’s -deliveries of honey. By all laws of duty I should be down there, taking -my row of hives with the rest—master and men side by side like a string -of turnip-hoers—busy at the spring examination which, as all bee-men -know, is the most important work of the year. But the very thought of -opening hives, now in the first warm break of April weather or at any -time, filled me with a strange loathing. So it never used to be, never -could be, in the old days whose memory always comes flooding back to me -at this season with such a clear call and such a hindrance to progress -and duty. Then I had as little dreamed of opening a hive as opening a -vein. I should have done no more than I was doing now—passing from one -old straw skep to another through the sweet vernal sunshine, my boots -scattering the dew from the grass as I went, and looking for signs that -tell the bee-man nearly all he really needs to know. I shut my ears to -the throaty song of the engine. I heard the cart drive away without a -thought of scanning its load. I got me down in a little nook of red -currant flowers under the wall, where the old straw hives were thickest, -and gave myself up to idle dreams, dreams of the bees and bee-men of long -ago. - -I should be splitting elder, thought I; splitting the long, straight -wands to make feeding-troughs. I called to mind doing it, here on this -self-same bench near upon fifty years ago, with my father, the woodman, -sitting at my elbow learning me. We split the wands clean and true, -scooped out the pith from each half, and dammed up its ends with clay. -Then, with a handful of these crescent troughs and a can of syrup, we -went the round of the garden together looking for stocks that were short -of stores. When we found one, we pushed the hollow slip of elder gently -into the hive-entrance as far as it would go, and filled it with syrup, -filling it again and again throughout the day as the bees within drank it -dry. - - - -_The Old Style and the New_ - - -A queer figure my father cut in his short grey smock and his long lean -bent legs encased in leathern gaiters, legs between which, when I was -little, and trotting after him, I had always a fine view of the sky. He -was never at fault in his estimate of a hive’s prosperity. The rich -clear song and steady traffic of a well-to-do bee-nation he knew at once -from the anxious note and frantic coming and going of a -starvation-threatened hive. It was the tune that told him. Nowadays we -just rip the coverings from a hive and, lifting the combs out one by one, -judge by sheer brute-force of eyesight whether there be need or plenty. -“One-thirty-two!”—from my sunny seat under the pink currant blossom I can -hear the call of the foreman to the booking ’prentice down in the -bee-farm—“One-thirty-two—six frames covered—no moth—medium light—brood -over three—mark R.Q.” R.Q. means that the stock is to be re-queened at -the earliest opportunity. She has been a famous queen in her -time—One-thirty-two. This would have been her fourth year, had she kept -up her fertility. But “brood over three”—that is to say, only three -combs with young bees maturing in them—is not good enough for -progressive, up-to-date Warrilow in April, and she must be pinched at -last. In the common course, I never let a queen remain at the head of -affairs after her second season. Nine out of ten of them break down -under the wear and stress of two summers, and fall to useless -drone-breeding in the third. - -Already the sun has climbed high, and yet I linger, though I know I -should be gone an hour ago. The darkness, far away as it seems, will not -find all done that should be done on the bee-farm, toil as hard as we -may. For these sudden hot days in spring often come singly, and every -moment of them is precious. To-morrow the north wind may be keening -under an iron-grey sky, and pallid wreaths of snow-flakes weighing down -the almond-blossom. So it happened only a year ago, when on the -twenty-fifth of April I must clear away the snow from the entrance-boards -of the hives. It is, I think, the unending round of business—the itch -that is on us now of finding a day’s work for every day in the year in -modern beecraft—which has had most to do with the changed times. The old -leisure, as well as the old colour and mystery, has gone out of -bee-keeping. Between burning-time in August and swarming-time in May -there used to be little else for the bee-master to do but smoke his pipe -and ruminate and watch the wax flowing into the hives. For we all -believed that the little pellets of many-tinted pollen which the bees -constantly carry in on their thighs were not food for the grubs in the -cells, but wax for the comb-building. I could believe it now, indeed, if -I might only sit here long enough; but the busy voices are calling, -calling, and I must be gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX -THE BEE-MILK MYSTERY - - -AMONG the innumerable scraps of more or less erroneous information on -hive-life, dished up by the popular newspapers in course of the year’s -round, there is occasionally one which is sure to grip the curious -reader’s attention. No one expects nowadays to read of the honey-bee -without being set agape at the marvellous; but, really, when he is -gravely told that the nurse-bees in a hive actually give the breast to -their young, suckling them with a secreted liquid which is nothing more -or less than milk, the ordinarily faithful newspaper student is entitled -to be for once incredulous. - -The thing, however, in spite of its grotesque improbability, comes nearer -to the plain truth than many another item of bee-life more often -encountered and unquestionably accepted. There are veritable nurse-bees -in a hive, and these do produce something not unlike milk. In about -three days after the egg has been deposited in the comb-cell by the -queen, or mother-bee, a tiny white grub emerges. The feeding of this -grub is immediately commenced by the bees in charge of the nursery -quarters of the hive, and there is administered to it a glistening white -substance closely resembling thick cream. - -Analysts tell us that this bee-milk, as it is called, is highly -nitrogenous in character, and that it has a decidedly acid reaction. It -is obviously produced from the mouths of the nurse-bees, and appears to -be digested matter thrown up from some part of the bee’s internal system, -and combined with the secretions from one or more of the four separate -sets of glands which open into different parts of the worker-bee’s mouth. -The power to secrete this bee-milk seems to be normally limited to those -workers who are under fourteen or fifteen days old. After that time the -bee runs dry, her nursing work is relinquished, and she goes out to -forage for nectar and pollen, never, as far as is known, resuming the -task of feeding the young grubs. But if the faculty is not exercised, it -may be held in abeyance for months together. This takes place at the -close of each year, when we know that the last bees born to the hive in -autumn are those who supply the milk for the first batches of larva -raised in the ensuing spring. - -It is difficult to keep out the wonder-weaving mood when writing of any -phase of hive-life, and especially so when we have this bee-milk under -consideration. For all recent studies of the matter tend to prove -several facts about it not merely wonderful, but verging on the -mysterious. - -In the first place, its composition seems to be variable at the will of -the bees. The white liquid is supplied to the grubs of worker, queen, -and drone, and not only is its nature different with each, but it is even -possible that this may be farther modified in the various stages of their -development. It is well ascertained that the physical and temperamental -differences between queen and worker-bee, widely marked as they appear, -are entirely due to treatment and feeding during the larval stage. That -the eggs producing the two are identical is proved by the fact that these -can be transposed without confounding the original purpose of the hive. -The queen-egg placed in the worker-cell develops into a common worker, -while the worker-egg, when exalted to a queen’s cradle, infallibly -produces a fully accoutred queen bee. The experiment can also be made -even with the young grubs, provided that these are no more than three -days old, and the same result ensues. - -A close study of the food administered to bees when in the larval stage -of their career is specially interesting, because it gives us the key to -many otherwise inexplicable matters connected with hive-life. We do not -know, and probably never shall know, how mere variation in diet causes -certain organs to appear and certain other bodily parts to absent -themselves. If the difference between queen and worker-bee were simply -one of development, the worker being only an undersized, semi-atrophied -specimen of a queen, there would be little mystery about it. But each -has several highly specialised organs, of which the other has no trace, -just as each has certain functions reduced to mere rudimentary -uselessness, which, in the other, possess enormous development and a -corresponding importance. - -Clearly the food given in each case has peculiar properties, bringing -about certain definite invariable results. We are able, therefore, to -say positively that most of the classic marvels of bee-life are built up -on this one determined issue, this one logical adjustment of cause and -effect. The hive creates thousands of sexless workers and only one -fertile mother-bee. It limits the number of its offspring according to -the visible food supplies or the needs of the commonwealth. It brings -into existence, when necessity calls for them, hundreds of male bees or -drones, and when their period of usefulness is over it decrees their -extermination. When the queen’s fecundity declines, it raises another -queen to take her place. It can even, under certain rare conditions of -adversity, manufacture what is known as a fertile worker, when some -mischance has deprived it of its mother-bee and the materials for -providing a legitimate successor to her are not forthcoming. And all -these results are primarily brought about by the one means, the one -vehicle of mystery—this wonderful bee-milk playing its part at all stages -in the honey-bee’s life from her cradle to her grave. - -For to track down this subtly-compounded elixir through all its various -uses one must take a survey of almost the whole round of activities in -the hive. The food of the young larva, whether of queen or worker, for -the first three days after the eggs are hatched, seems to consist -entirely of bee-milk. The drone-grub gets an extra day of this richly -nitrogenous diet. And for the remaining two days of the grub stage of -the bee’s life milk is given continuously, but, in the case of the worker -and drone, in greatly diminished supply. Its place during these two days -is largely taken, it is said, by honey and digested pollen in the -worker’s instance, and by honey and raw pollen for the males. - -The queen-grub alone receives bee-milk, of a specially rich kind and in -unlimited quantity, for the whole of her larval life. This “royal -jelly,” as the old bee-masters termed it, is literally poured into the -capacious queen-cell. For the whole five days of her existence as a -larva she actually bathes in it up to the eyes. But, as far as is known, -she receives no other food during this time. The regular order of her -development, and of that of the worker-bee, during the five days of the -grub stage has been carefully studied, and it is curious to note that the -very time when the queen’s special organs of motherhood begin to show -themselves coincides exactly with the moment at which the worker-grub’s -allowance of bee-milk is cut down and other food substituted. - -This, no doubt, explains why these organs in the adult worker-bee are so -elementary as to be practically non-existent, and accounts for the -queen’s generous growth in other directions. But it leaves us completely -in the dark as to the reason for the worker’s subsequent elaboration of -such organs as the pollen-carrying device, the so-called wax-pincers, and -the wax-secreting glands, of which the queen possesses none. Nor are we -able to see how the giving or withholding of the bee-milk should furnish -the queen with a long curved sting and the worker with a short straight -one; nor how mere manipulation of diet can result in making the two so -dissimilar in temperament and mental attributes—the worker laborious, -sociable, almost preternaturally alert of mind, and withal essentially a -creature of the open air and sunshine; the queen dull of intelligence, -possessed of a jealous hatred of her peers, for whom all the light and -colour and fragrance of a summer’s morning have no allurements, a being -whose every instinct keeps her, from year’s end to year’s end, pent in -the crowded tropic gloom of the hive. - -But the bee-milk as well as being the main ingredient in the larval food, -has other and almost equally important uses. It is supplied by the -workers to the adult queen and drones throughout nearly the whole of -their lives, and forms an indispensable part of their daily diet. And -this gives us a clue in our attempt to understand, not only how the -population of the hive is regulated, but why the males are so easily -disposed of when the annual drone-massacre sets in. By giving or -depriving her of the bee-milk, the workers can either stimulate the queen -to an enormous daily output of eggs or reduce her fertility to a bare -minimum; and, as for the drones, it is starvation that is the secret of -their half-hearted, feeble resistance to fate. - -Yet though we may recount these things, and speak of this mysterious -essence called bee-milk as really the mainspring of all effort and -achievement within the hive, it is doubtful whether we have solved the -greatest mystery of all about it. Of what is it composed, and whence is -it derived? The generally-accepted explanation of its origin is that it -is pollen-chyle regurgitated from the second stomach of the bee, combined -with the secretions from certain glands of the mouth in passing. But the -most careful dissections have never revealed anything like bee-milk in -any part of the bee’s internal system. Its pure white, opaque quality -has absolutely no counterpart there: nor, indeed—if we are to believe -latest investigations—does pollen-chyle exist at all in either the first -or second stomach of the bee, whence alone it could be regurgitated. -Bee-milk, it would seem, is still a physiological mystery, and so may -remain to the end of time. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX -THE BEE-BURNERS - - -COUNTRY wanderings towards the end of summer, even now when the twentieth -century is two decades old, still bring to light many ancient and curious -things. Within an hour of London, and side by side with the latest -agricultural improvements, you can still see corn coming down to the old -reaping-hook, still watch the plough-team of bullocks toiling over the -hillside, still get that unholy whiff of sulphur in the bee-gardens where -the old-fashioned skeppists are “taking up” their bees. - -Burning-time came round usually towards the end of August, sooner or -later according to the turn of the season. The bee-keeper went the round -of his hives, choosing out the heaviest and the lightest stocks. The -heaviest hives were taken because they contained most honey; the lightest -because, being short of stores, they were unlikely to survive the winter, -and had best be put to profit at once for what they were worth. Thus a -complete reversal of the doctrine of the survival of the fittest was -artificially brought about by the old bee-masters. The most vigorous -strains of bees were carefully weeded out year by year, and the -perpetuation of the race left to those stocks which had proved themselves -malingerers and half-hearts. - -There was also another way in which this system worked wholly for the -bad. If a hive of bees reached burning-time with a fully charged -storehouse, it was probably due to the fact that the stock had cast no -swarm that year, and had, therefore, preserved its whole force of workers -for honey-getting. Under the light of modern knowledge, any stall of -bees that showed a lessened tendency towards swarming would be carefully -set aside, and used as the mother-hive for future generations; for this -habit of swarming, necessary under the old dispensation, is nothing else -than a fatal drawback under the new. The scientific bee-master of -to-day, with his expanding brood-chambers and his system of supplying his -hives artificially with young and prolific queens every third year, has -no manner of use for the old swarming-habit. It serves but to break up -and hopelessly to weaken his stocks just when he has got them to prime -working fettle. Although the honey-bee still clings to this ancient -impulse, there is no doubt that selective cultivation will ultimately -evolve a race of bees in which the swarming-fever shall have been much -abated, if not wholly extinguished; and then the problem of cheap English -honey will have been solved. But in ancient times the bee-gardens were -replenished only from those hives wherein the swarming-fever was most -rampant. The old bee-keepers, in consigning all their heavy stocks to -the sulphur-pit, unconsciously did their best to exterminate all -non-swarming strains. - -The bee-burning took place about sunset, or as soon as the last -honey-seekers were home for the night. Small circular pits were dug in -some quiet corner hard by. These were about six or eight inches deep, -and a handful of old rags that had been dipped in melted brimstone having -been put in, the bee-keeper went to fetch the first hive. The whole fell -business went through in a strange solemnity and quietude. A knife was -gently run round under the edge of the skep, to free it from its stool, -and the hive carefully lifted and carried, mouth downwards, towards the -sulphur-pit, none of the doomed bees being any the wiser. Then the rag -was ignited and the skep lowered over the pit. An angry buzzing broke -out as the fumes reached the undermost bees in the cluster, but this -quickly died down into silence. In a minute or two every bee had -perished, and the pit was ready for the next hive. - -That this senseless and wickedly wasteful custom should have been almost -universal among bee-men up to comparatively recent times is sufficiently -a matter for wonder; but that the practice should still survive in -certain country districts to-day well-nigh passes belief. If the art of -bee-driving—a simple and easy method by which all the bees in a full hive -may be transferred unhurt to an empty one, and that within a few -minutes—were a new discovery, the thing might be condoned as all of a -piece with the general benightedness of mediæval folk. But bee-driving -was known, and openly advocated, by several writers on apiculture at -least a hundred years ago. By this method, just as easy as the old and -cruel one, not only do the entire stores of each hive fall into the -undisputed possession of the bee-master, but he retains the colony of -bees complete and unharmed for future service. He has secured all the -golden eggs, and the goose is still alive. - -Those who desire to make a start in beemanship inexpensively might do -worse than adopt a practice which the writer has followed for many years -past. As soon as the time for the bee-burners’ work arrives, a bicycle -is rigged up with a bamboo elongation fore and aft. From this depend a -number of straw skeps tied over with cheese-cloth. A bee-smoker and a -set of driving-irons complete the equipment, and there is no more to do -than sally forth into the country in search of condemned bees. - -It is usually not difficult to persuade the cottage apiarist to let you -operate on his hives. As soon as he learns that all you ask for your -trouble is the bees, while you undertake to leave him the entire -honey-crop and a _pour-boire_ into the bargain, he readily gives you -access to his stalls. The work before you is now surprisingly simple. A -few strong puffs of smoke into the entrance of the hive under -manipulation will effectually subdue the bees. Then the hive is lifted, -turned over, and placed mouth upwards in any convenient receptacle—a pail -or bucket will do, and will hold it as firmly as need be. Your own -travelling-gear now comes into use. One of the empty skeps is fitted -over the inverted hive. The two are pinned together with an ordinary -meat-skewer at one point, and then the skep is prised up and fixed on -each side with the driving-irons, so that the whole looks like a box with -the lid half-raised. Now you have merely to take up a position in front -of the two hives, and begin a steady gentle thumping on the lower one -with the palms of the hands. - -At first, as the combs begin to vibrate, nothing but chaos and -bewilderment are observable among the bees. For a moment or two they run -hither and thither in obvious confusion. But presently they seem to get -an inkling of what is required of them, and then follows one of the most -interesting, not to say fascinating, sights in the whole domain of -bee-craft. Evidently the bees arrive at a common agreement that the -foundations of their old home have become, from some mysterious cause or -other, undermined and perilous; and the word goes forth that the -stronghold must be abandoned without more ado. On what initiation the -manœuvre is started has never been properly ascertained; but in a little -while an ordered discipline seems to spread throughout the erstwhile -distracted multitude. In one solid hurrying phalanx the bees begin to -sweep up into the empty skep. Once fairly on the march, the process is -soon completed. In eight or ten minutes at most, the entire colony hangs -in a dense compact cluster from the roof of your hive. Below, -brood-combs and honey-combs are alike entirely deserted. There is -nothing left for you to do now but carefully to detach the uppermost -skep: replace the cheese-cloth, thus securing your prisoners for their -journey to their new home; and to set about driving the next stock. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI -EVOLUTION OF THE MODERN HIVE - - -THE bee-master, explaining to an interested novice the wonders of the -modern bar-frame hive, often finds himself confronted by a very awkward -question. He is at no loss for words, so long as he confines himself to -an enumeration of the hive’s many advantages over the ancient straw -skep—its elastic brood and honey chambers, its movable combs -interchangeable with all other hives in the garden, its power of doubling -and trebling both the number of worker-bees in a colony and the amount of -harvested honey; above all, its control over sanitation and the breeding -of unnecessary drones. But when he is asked the question: Who invented -this hive which has brought about such a revolution in bee-craft? his -eloquence generally comes to a dead stop. Perhaps one in a hundred of -skilled modern bee-keepers is able to answer the query. But the -ninety-nine will tell you the bar-frame hive had no single inventor; it -came to its latter-day perfection by little and little—the conglomerate -result of years of experience and the working of many minds. - - [Picture: “Ancient cottage ruin showing recesses for hives”] - -This is, of course, as true of the modern bee-hive as it is of all other -appliances of world-wide utility. But it is equally true that everything -must have had a prime inception at some time, and through some special -human agency or other; and, in the case of the bar-frame hive, the -honours appear to be pretty equally divided between two personages widely -separated in the world’s history—Samson and Sir Christopher Wren. - -Perhaps these two names have never before been bracketed together either -in or out of print; yet that the association is not a fanciful, but in -all respects a natural and necessary one will not be difficult to prove. - -The story of how Samson, albeit unconsciously, first gave the idea of the -movable comb-frame to an English bee-master is probably new to most -apiarians. As to whether the cloud of insects which Samson saw about the -carcase of the dead lion were honey-bees or merely drone-flies, we need -not here pause to determine. We are concerned for the moment only with -one modern explanation of the incident. This is that, although -honey-bees abominate carrion in general, in this particular case the -carcase had been so dried and emptied and purified by the sun and usual -scavenging agencies of the desert as to leave nothing but a shell—a very -serviceable makeshift for a bee-hive, in fact—consisting of the tanned -skin stretched over the ribs of the lion. - -In the summer of 1834 a certain Major Munn was walking among his hives, -pondering the ancient Bible narrative, when a sudden brilliant idea -occurred to him. Like most advanced bee-keepers of his day, he had long -grown dissatisfied with the straw hive, and his bees were housed in -square wooden boxes. But these, although more lasting, were nearly as -unmanageable as the skeps. The bees built their combs within them on -just the same haphazard plan; and, once built, the combs were fixed -permanently to the tops of the boxes. Now, the idea which had occurred -to Major Munn was simply this: He reflected that the combs built by the -bees in the dry shell of the lion-skin were probably attached each to one -of the encircling ribs; so that, when Samson took the honey-comb, all he -need have done was to remove a rib, bringing the attached comb away with -it. Thereupon Major Munn set to work to make a hive on the rib-plan, -which was composed of a number of wooden frames standing side by side, -each to contain a comb and each removable at will. Since that time -numberless small and great improvements have been devised; but, in its -essence, the modern hive is no more than the dried lion-skin distended by -the ribs, as Samson found it on that day when he went on his fateful -mission of wooing. - -The part played by Sir Christopher Wren in the evolution of the bar-frame -hive, though not so romantic, was fraught with almost equal significance -to modern bee-craft. Movable comb-frames were as yet undreamed of in -Wren’s time, nearly two hundred years before Major Munn invented them. -But Wren seems to have been the discoverer of a principle just as -important. This was what latter-day bee-keepers call “storification.” -Wren’s hive consisted of a series of wooden boxes, octagonal in shape, -placed one below the other, with inter-communicating doors, and glass -windows in the sides of each section. Up to that date bee-hives had been -merely single receptacles made of straw, plastered wattles, or wood. -When the stock had outgrown its dwelling there was nothing for it but to -swarm. But by the device of adding another story below the first one, -when this was crowded with bees, and a third or even a fourth if -necessary, Wren was able to make his hive grow with the growth of his -bee-colony or contract with its post-seasonal decline. He had, in fact, -invented the elastic brood-chamber, which alone enables the bee-master to -put in practice the one cardinal maxim of successful bee-keeping—the -production of strong stocks. - -Wren’s octagon storifying hive seems to have been plagiarised by most -eminent bee-masters of his day and after with the naïve dishonesty so -characteristic among bee-men of the time. Thorley’s hive is obviously -taken from, indeed, is probably identical with, that of Wren. The hive -made and sold by Moses Rusden, King Charles II.’s bee-master, is of -almost exactly the same pattern, but it is described as manufactured -under the patent of one John Geddie. This patent was taken out by Geddie -in 1675, and Geddie would appear to be the arch-purloiner of the whole -crew. For it is quite certain that, having had one of Wren’s hives shown -to him, he was not content with merely copying it, but actually went and -patented the principle as his own idea. - -But Wren’s hive, good as it was in comparison with the single-chambered -straw skep or wooden box, still lacked one vital element. Although he -and his imitators had realised the advantage of an expanding bee-hive, -this was secured only by the process of “nadiring,” or adding room below. -Thus the upper part of Wren’s hive always contained the oldest and -dirtiest combs, and as bees almost invariably carry their stores upwards, -the production of clear, uncontaminated honey under this system was -impossible. It remained for a Scotsman, Robert Kerr, of Stewarton, in -Ayrshire, to perfect, some hundred and fifty years later, what Wren had -so ingeniously begun. - -Whether Kerr—or “Bee Robin,” as he was called by his neighbours—ever saw -or heard of hives on Sir Christopher Wren’s plan has never been -ascertained. But plagiarism was in the air throughout those far-off -times, and there is no reason to think Kerr better than his fellows. In -any case, the “Stewarton” hive, like Wren’s, was octagon in shape, and -had several stories; but these stories were added above as well as below. -By placing his empty boxes first underneath the original brood-chamber, -to stimulate increase of population, and then, when the honey-flow began, -placing more boxes above to receive the surplus honey, “Bee Robin” -succeeded in getting some wonderful harvests. His big supers, full of -snow-white virgin honey-comb, were soon the talk of Glasgow, where he -readily sold them. Imitators sprang up far and near, and it is only -within the last twenty-five or thirty years that his hives can be said to -have fallen into desuetude. - -But probably his success was due not more to his invention of the -expanding honey-chamber than to two other important innovations which he -effected in bee-craft. The octagonal boxes of Wren had fixed tops with a -central hole, much like the straw hive still used by the old-fashioned -bee-keepers to this day. “Bee Robin” did away with these fixed tops, and -substituted a number of parallel wooden bars from which the combs were -suspended, the spaces between the bars being filled by slides -withdrawable at will. He could thus, after having added a story to his -honey-chamber, allow the bees access to it by withdrawing his slides from -the outside: and when the super was filled with honey-comb, the slides -were again employed in shutting off communication, whereupon the super -could be easily removed. - -This, however, though it greatly facilitated the work of the bee-master, -did not account for the large yields of surplus honey, which the -“Stewarton” hive first made possible. In the light of modern -bee-knowledge, it is plain that a big honey-harvest can only be secured -by a corresponding large stock of bees, and Robert Kerr seems to have -been the originator of what was nothing less than a revolution in the -craft. Hitherto the bee-keeper had estimated his wealth according to the -number of his hives, and the more these subdivided by swarming, the more -prosperous their owner accounted himself. But “Bee Robin” reversed all -this. He housed his swarms not singly, but always two at a time; and he -made large stocks out of small ones by the simple expedient of piling the -brood-boxes of several colonies together. In a word, it was the -“Dreadnought” principle applied to the peaceful traffic of the hives. - - * * * * * - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT - THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, LIMITED - WATERLOO HOUSE, THORNTON STREET, - NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE. - - * * * * * - - - - - - A New English Classic - - - Tenth Edition. Crown 8vo. xxiv+282 pp. 7s. 6d.net. - - * * * * * - - - - -THE LORE -OF THE HONEY-BEE - - - BY - TICKNER EDWARDES - - * * * * * - - _OPINIONS OF THE PRESS_ - - “An eminently readable book . . . admirably illustrated, not unworthy - to rank beside the masterpiece of Maurice Maeterlinck.”—_Times_. - - “It must, of course, sound like grossly exaggerated praise if one - says that a book has appeared in the hustled crowd of - twentieth-century volumes which is a worthy successor to Gilbert - White’s ‘Natural History of Selborne,’ but the interest, charm, and - ‘personality’ of Mr Edwardes’ work tempt one to class him among the - rare masters of that most difficult art which preserves the perfume - of country joys in printers’ ink.”—_World_. - - “A wholly charming book that should become a classic. Nothing quite - so good, or written with such complete literary skill, has appeared - from an English printing-press for long enough. . . . It deserves a - place upon the select bookshelf that holds ‘The Compleat Angler’ and - George Herbert’s ‘Temple’”—_County Gentleman_. - - “A work of quite extraordinary interest.”—_Spectator_. - - “A wonderful story . . . told with great charm, and much delicate - literary art.”—_Daily Telegraph_. - - “A fascinating tale. . . . Quite into the front rank of writers - steps Mr Edwardes, who, in ‘The Lore of the Honey-Bee’ gives us a - book which, while full of information, is worth reading for its - literary charm alone.”—_Daily Mail_. - - “A volume which shows up the life of the bee in fresh and brilliant - facets—a book which every bee-lover will cherish.”—_Glasgow News_. - - “All the virtues of Maeterlinck’s well-known prose epic, without its - failings . . . Every page is intensely interesting. . . . The book - is embellished with twenty-four of the clearest and best photographs - of bee economy that we have seen.”—_Daily News_. - - “A lively and informing book . . . the many illustrations well - chosen, and all good . . . Mr Tickner Edwardes has done nothing so - good as this.”—_Daily Chronicle_. - - METHUEN & CO., 36 ESSEX STREET, LONDON, W.C. - - - - -FOOTNOTES. - - -{43} Before the War. - - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW*** - - -******* This file should be named 63208-0.txt or 63208-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/3/2/0/63208 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Bee-Master of Warrilow - - -Author: Tickner Edwardes - - - -Release Date: September 15, 2020 [eBook #63208] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW*** -</pre> -<p>This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/fp.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“A corner in the bee garden”" -title= -"“A corner in the bee garden”" - src="images/fp.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<h1>THE BEE-MASTER<br /> -OF WARRILOW</h1> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br -/> -TICKNER EDWARDES</p> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">FELLOW OF -THE ENTOMOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON</span><br /> -<span class="GutSmall">AUTHOR OF “THE LORE OF THE -HONEY-BEE”</span></p> - -<div class="gapspace"> </div> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">THIRD -EDITION</span></p> - -<div class="gapspace"> </div> -<p style="text-align: center">METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br /> -36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br /> -LONDON</p> - -<div class="gapspace"> </div> -<table> -<tr> -<td><p><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -4</span><i>First Published</i></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>1907</i></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><i>Second Edition (Methuen & Co. Ltd.) Revised and -Enlarged</i></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>1920</i></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><i>Third Edition</i></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>1921</i></p> -</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<div class="gapspace"> </div> -<p><i>These Essays are reprinted by the courtesy of the -Proprietor of</i> “<i>The Pall Mall Gazette</i>.”</p> -<h2><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -5</span>DEDICATION</h2> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">TO THE -BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW’S</span></p> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">OLDEST AND -STAUNCHEST FRIEND,</span></p> -<p style="text-align: center">T. W. LITTLETON HAY</p> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">THIS BOOK IS -AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED</span></p> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY THE -WRITER</span></p> -<h2><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>PREFACE -TO NEW EDITION</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> original “<span -class="smcap">Bee-Master of Warrilow</span>”—that -queer little honey-coloured book of far-off days—contained -but eleven chapters: in its present edition the book has grown to -more than three times its former length, and constitutes -practically a new volume.</p> -<p>To those who knew and loved the old “<span -class="smcap">Bee-Master of Warrilow</span>,” no apology -for the additional chapters will be required, because it is -directly to the solicitation of many of them that this larger -collection of essays on English bee-garden life owes its -appearance. And equally, to those who will make the old -bee-man’s acquaintance for the first time in these present -pages, little need be said. In spite of the War, the -honey-bee remains the same mysterious, fascinating creature that -she has ever been; and the men who live by the fruit of her toil -share with her the like changeless quality. The Master of -Warrilow and his bees can very well be left to win their own way -into the hearts of new readers as they did with the old.</p> -<p style="text-align: right">T. E.</p> -<p><span class="smcap">The Red Cottage</span>,<br /> - <span -class="smcap">Burpham</span>, <span -class="smcap">Arundel</span>,<br /> - - -<span class="smcap">Sussex</span>.</p> -<h2><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -9</span>CONTENTS</h2> -<table> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="GutSmall">CHAP.</span></p> -</td> -<td></td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span -class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td></td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span -class="smcap">Preface</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page7">7</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td></td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span -class="smcap">Introduction</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page13">13</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">I.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -Bee-Master of Warrilow</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page17">17</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">II.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span -class="smcap">February amongst the hives</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page24">24</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">III.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">A -twentieth century bee-farmer</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page31">31</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">IV.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">Chloe -among the bees</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page37">37</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">V.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">A -bee-man of the ’Forties</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page44">44</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">VI.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span -class="smcap">Heredity in the bee-garden</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page52">52</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">VII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">Night -on a honey-farm</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page59">59</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">VIII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">In a -bee-camp</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page65">65</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">IX.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -bee-hunters</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page73">73</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">X.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -physician in the hive</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page80">80</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XI.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">Winter -work on the bee-farm</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page86">86</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -queen bee: In romance and reality</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page93">93</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XIII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -song of the hives</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page100">100</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XIV.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span -class="smcap">Concerning honey</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page107">107</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XV.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">In the -Abbot’s bee-garden</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page113">113</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -10</span><span class="GutSmall">XVI.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">Bees -and their masters</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page120">120</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XVII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -honey thieves</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page126">126</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XVIII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -story of the swarm</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page132">132</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XIX.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -mind in the hive</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page139">139</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XX.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -King’s bee-master</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page145">145</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXI.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">Pollen -and the bee</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page152">152</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -honey-flow</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page158">158</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXIII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">Summer -life in a bee-hive</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page164">164</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXIV.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -yellow peril in Hiveland</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page170">170</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXV.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -unbusy bee</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page176">176</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXVI.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -long night in the hive</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page182">182</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXVII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -autocrat of the bee-garden</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page189">189</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXVIII.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span -class="smcap">Honey-craft old and new</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page196">196</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXIX.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -bee-milk mystery</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page202">202</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXX.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span class="smcap">The -bee-burners</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page209">209</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="GutSmall">XXXI.</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p><span -class="smcap">Evolution of the modern hive</span></p> -</td> -<td style='vertical-align: middle'><p style="text-align: -right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page214">214</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -</table> -<h2><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>LIST -OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -<table> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">A corner in the bee-garden</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page4">4</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">Brood-comb, showing two sizes of -cell</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page24">24</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">The bee-master’s -cottage</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page46">46</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">The wax makers</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page60">60</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">Hard times for the bees</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page86">86</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">Honey-comb: its various -stages</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page108">108</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">Hiving a swarm</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page134">134</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">1. Upward-built comb</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page152">152</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">2. Upward-built comb</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page160">160</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">The guardian of the hives</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page176">176</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">A natural honey-bee’s -nest</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page192">192</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><p><span class="smcap">Old cottage-ruin, with recesses for -hives</span></p> -</td> -<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a -href="#page214">214</a></span></p> -</td> -</tr> -</table> -<h2><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -13</span>INTRODUCTION</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Among</span> the beautiful things of the -countryside, which are slowly but surely passing away, must be -reckoned the old Bee Gardens—fragrant, sunny nooks of -blossom, where the bees are housed only in the ancient straw -skeps, and have their own way in everything, the work of the -bee-keeper being little more than a placid looking-on at events -of which it would have been heresy to doubt the finite -perfection.</p> -<p>To say, however, that modern ideas of progress in bee-farming -must inevitably rob the pursuit of all its old-world poetry and -picturesqueness, would be to represent the case in an -unnecessarily bad light. The latter-day beehive, it is -true, has little more æsthetic value than a Brighton -bathing-machine; and the new class of bee-keepers, which is -springing up all over the country, is composed mainly of people -who have taken to the calling as they would to any other -lucrative business, having, for the most part, nothing but a -good-humoured contempt alike for the old-fashioned bee-keeper and -the ancient traditions and superstitions of his craft.</p> -<p>Nor can the inveterate, old-time skeppist himself—the -man who obstinately shuts his eyes to all that is good and true -in modern bee-science—be counted <a name="page14"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 14</span>on to help in the preservation of the -beautiful old gardens, or in keeping alive customs which have -been handed down from generation to generation, almost unaltered, -for literally thousands of years. Here and there, in the -remoter parts of the country, men can still be found who keep -their bees much in the same way as bees were kept in the time of -Columella or Virgil; and are content with as little profit. -But these form a rapidly diminishing class. The advantages -of modern methods are too overwhelmingly apparent. The old -school must choose between the adoption of latter-day systems, or -suffer the only alternative—that of total extinction at no -very distant date.</p> -<p>Luckily for English bee-keeping, there is a third class upon -which the hopes of all who love the ancient ways and days, and -yet recognise the absorbing interest and value of modern research -in apiarian science, may legitimately rely. Born and bred -amongst the hives, and steeped from their earliest years in the -lore of their skeppist forefathers, these interesting folk seem, -nevertheless, imbued to the core with the very spirit of -progress. While retaining an unlimited affection for all -the quaint old methods in bee-keeping, they maintain themselves, -unostentatiously, but very thoroughly, abreast of the -times. Nothing new is talked of in the world of bees that -these people do not make trial of, and quietly adopt into their -daily practice, if really serviceable; or as quietly discard, if -the contrivance prove to have little else than novelty to -recommend it.</p> -<p>As a rule, they are reserved, silent men, difficult of -approach; and yet, when once on terms of <a -name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>familiarity, -they make the most charming of companions. Then they are -ever ready to talk about their bees, or discuss the latest -improvements in apiculture; to explain the intricacies of -bee-life, as revealed by the foremost modern observers, or to -dilate by the hour on the astounding delusions of mediæval -times. But they all seem to possess one invariable -characteristic—that of whole-hearted reverence for the -customs of their immediate ancestors, their own fathers and -grandfathers. In a long acquaintance with bee-men of this -class, I have never yet met with one who could be trapped into -any decided admission of defect in the old methods, -which—to say truth—were often as senseless as they -were futile, even when not directly contrary to the interest of -the bee-owner, or the plain, obvious dictates of humanity. -In this they form a refreshing contrast to the ultra-modern, -pushing young apiculturist of to-day; and it is as a type of this -class that the Bee-Master of Warrilow is presented to the -reader.</p> -<h2><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -17</span>CHAPTER I<br /> -THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Long</span>, lithe, and sinewy, with three -score years of sunburn on his keen, gnarled face, and the sure -stride of a mountain goat, the Bee-Master of Warrilow struck you -at once as a notable figure in any company.</p> -<p>Warrilow is a little precipitous village tucked away under the -green brink of the Sussex Downs; and the bee-farm lay on the -southern slope of the hill, with a sheltering barrier of pine -above, in which, all day long, the winter wind kept up an -impotent complaining. But below, among the hives, nothing -stirred in the frosty, sun-riddled air. Now and again a -solitary worker-bee darted up from a hive door, took a brisk turn -or two in the dazzling light, then hurried home again to the warm -cluster. But the flash and quiver of wings, and the drowsy -song of summer days, were gone in the iron-bound January weather; -and the bee-master was lounging idly to and fro in the great -main-way of the waxen <a name="page18"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 18</span>city, shot-gun under arm, and with -apparently nothing more to do than to meditate over past -achievements, or to plan out operations for the season to -come.</p> -<p>As I approached, the sharp report of the gun rang out, and a -little cloud of birds went chippering fearsomely away over the -hedgerow. The old man watched them as they flew off dark -against the snowy hillside. He threw out the -cartridge-cases disgustedly.</p> -<p>“Blue-tits!” said he. “They are the -great pest of the bee-keeper in winter time. When the snow -covers the ground, and the frost has driven all insect-life deep -into the crevices of the trees, all the blue-caps for miles round -trek to the bee-gardens. Of course, if the bees would only -keep indoors they would be safe enough. But the same cause -that drives the birds in lures the bees out. The snow -reflects the sunlight up through the hive-entrances, and they -think the bright days of spring have come, and out they flock to -their death. And winter is just the time when every single -bee is valuable. In summer a few hundreds more or less make -little difference, when in every hive young bees are maturing at -the rate of several thousands a day to take the place of those -that perish. But now every bee captured by the tits is an -appreciable loss to the colony. They are all nurse-bees in -the winter-hives, and on them depends the safe hatching-out of -the first broods in the spring season. So the bee-keeper -would do well to include a shot-gun among his paraphernalia, -unless he is willing to feed all the starving tits of the -countryside at the risk of his year’s harvest.”</p> -<p><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -19</span>“But the blue-cap,” he went on, “is -not always content to wait for his breakfast until the bees -voluntarily bring it to him. He has a trick of enticing -them out of the hive which is often successful even in the -coldest weather. Come into the extracting-house yonder, and -I may be able to show you what I mean.”</p> -<p>He led the way to a row of outbuildings which flanked the -northern boundary of the garden and formed additional shelter -from the blustering gale. A window of the extracting-house -overlooked the whole extent of hives. Opening this from -within with as little noise as possible, the bee-master put a -strong field-glass into my hand.</p> -<p>“Now that we are out of sight,” he said, -“the tits will soon be back again. There they -come—whole families of them together! Now watch that -green hive over there under the apple-tree.”</p> -<p>Looking through the glass, I saw that about a dozen tits had -settled in the tree. Their bright plumage contrasted -vividly with the sober green and grey of the lichened boughs, as -they swung themselves to and fro in the sunshine. But -presently the boldest of them gave up this pretence of searching -for food among the branches, and hopped down upon the -alighting-board of the hive. At once two or three others -followed him; and then began an ingenious piece of -business. The little company fell to pecking at the hard -wood with their bills, striking out a sharp ringing tattoo -plainly audible even where we lay hidden. The old bee-man -snorted contemptuously, and the cartridges slid home into the -breech of his gun with a vicious snap.</p> -<p><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -20</span>“Now keep an eye on the hive-entrance,” he -said grimly.</p> -<p>The glass was a good one. Now I could plainly make out a -movement in this direction. The noise and vibration made by -the birds outside had roused the slumbering colony to a sense of -danger. About a dozen bees ran out to see what it all -meant, and were immediately pounced upon. And then the gun -spoke over my head. It was a shot into the air, but it -served its harmless purpose. From every bush and tree there -came over to us a dull whirr of wings like far-off thunder, as -the blue marauders sped away for the open country, filling the -air with their frightened jingling note.</p> -<p>Perhaps of all cosy retreats from the winter blast it has ever -been my good fortune to discover, the extracting-room on Warrilow -bee-farm was the brightest and most comfortable. In -summer-time the whole life of the apiary centred here; and the -stress and bustle, inevitable during the season of the great -honey-flow, obscured its manifold possibilities. But in -winter the extracting-machines were, for the most part, silent; -and the natural serenity and cosiness of the place reasserted -themselves triumphantly. From the open furnace-door a ruddy -warmth and glow enriched every nook and corner of the long -building. The walls were lined with shelves where the -polished tin vessels, in which the surplus honey was stored, gave -back the fire-shine in a hundred flickering points of amber -light. The work of hive-making in the neighbouring sheds -was going briskly forward, but the noise of hammering, the shrill -hum of sawing and planing <a name="page21"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 21</span>machinery, and the intermittent cough -of the oil-engine reached us only as a subdued, tranquil -murmur—the very voice of rest.</p> -<p>The bee-master closed the window behind its thick bee-proof -curtains, and, putting his gun away in a corner, drew a -comfortable high-backed settle near to the cheery blaze. -Then he disappeared for a moment, and returned with a dusty -cobweb-shrouded bottle, which he carried in a wicker cradle as a -butler would bear priceless old wine. The cork came out -with a ringing jubilant report, and the pale, straw-coloured -liquid foamed into the glasses like champagne. It stilled -at once, leaving the whole inner surface of the glass veneered -with golden bells. The old bee-man held it up critically -against the light.</p> -<p>“The last of 19–,” he said, -regretfully. “The finest mead year in this part of -the country for many a decade back. Most people have never -tasted the old Anglo-Saxon drink that King Alfred loved, and -probably Harold’s men made merry with on the eve of -Hastings. So they can’t be expected to know that -metheglin varies with each season as much as wine from the -grape.”</p> -<p>Of the goodness of the liquor there admitted no -question. It had the bouquet of a ripe Ribston pippin, and -the potency of East Indian sherry thrice round the Horn. -But its flavour entirely eluded all attempt at comparison. -There was a suggestive note of fine old perry about it, and a dim -reminder of certain almost colourless Rhenish wines, never -imported, and only to be encountered in moments of rare and happy -chance. Yet neither of these parallels came within a -sunbeam’s length of <a name="page22"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 22</span>the truth about this immaculate -honey-vintage of Warrilow. Pondering over the liquor thus, -the thought came to me that nothing less than a supreme occasion -could have warranted its production to-day. And this -conjecture was immediately verified. The bee-master raised -his glass above his head.</p> -<p>“To the Bees of Warrilow!” he said, lapsing into -the broad Sussex dialect, as he always did when much moved by his -theme. “Forty-one years ago to-day the first stock I -ever owned was fixed up out there under the old codlin-tree; and -now there are two hundred and twenty of them. ’Twas -before you were born, likely as not; and bee science has seen -many changes since then. In those days there were nothing -but the old straw skeps, and most bee-keepers knew as little -about the inner life of their bees as we do of the bottom of the -South Pacific. Now things are very different; but the -improvement is mostly in the bee-keepers themselves. The -bees are exactly as they always have been, and work on the same -principles as they did in the time of Solomon. They go -their appointed way inexorably, and all the bee-master can do is -to run on ahead and smooth the path a little for them. -Indeed, after forty odd years of bee-keeping, I doubt if the bees -even realise that they are ‘kept’ at all. The -bee-master’s work has little more to do with their progress -than the organ-blower’s with the tune.”</p> -<p>“Can you,” I asked him, as we parted, “after -all these years of experience, lay down for beginners in -beemanship one royal maxim of success above any other?”</p> -<p><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>He -thought it over a little, the gun on his shoulder again.</p> -<p>“Well, they might take warning from this same King -Solomon,” he said, “and beware the foreign feminine -element. Let British bee-keepers cease to import queen bees -from Italy and elsewhere, and stick to the good old English -Black. All my bees are of this strain, and mostly from one -pure original Sussex stock. The English black bee is a more -generous honey-maker in indifferent seasons; she does not swarm -so determinedly, under proper treatment, as the Ligurians or -Carniolans; and, above all, though she is not so handsome as some -of her Continental rivals, she comes of a hardy northern race, -and stands the ups and downs of the British winter better than -any of the fantastic yellow-girdled crew from -overseas.”</p> -<h2><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -24</span>CHAPTER II<br /> -FEBRUARY AMONGST THE HIVES</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> midday sun shone warm from a -cloudless sky. Up in the highest elm-tops the south-west -wind kept the chattering starlings gently swinging, but below in -the bee-garden scarce a breath moved under the rich soft -light.</p> -<p>As I lifted the latch of the garden-gate, the sharp click -brought a stooping figure erect in the midst of the hives; and -the bee-master came down the red-tiled winding path to meet -me. He carried a box full of some yellowish powdery -substance in one hand, and a big pitcher of water in the other; -and as usual, his shirt-sleeves were tucked up to the shoulder, -baring his weather-browned arms to the morning sun.</p> -<p>“When do we begin the year’s bee-work?” he -said, repeating my question amusedly. “Why, we began -on New Year’s morning. And last year’s work was -finished on Old Year’s night. If you go with the -times, every day in the year has its work on a modern bee-farm, -either indoors or out.”</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p24.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“Brood-comb: showing two sizes of cell being made side by -side”" -title= -"“Brood-comb: showing two sizes of cell being made side by -side”" - src="images/p24.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>“But it is on these first warm days of spring,” he -continued, as I followed him into the thick of the hives, -“that outdoor work for the bee-man starts in earnest. -The bees began long ago. <a name="page25"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 25</span>January was not out before the first -few eggs were laid right in the centre of the brood-combs. -And from now on, if only we manage properly, each bee-colony will -go on increasing until, in the height of the season, every queen -will be laying from two thousand to three thousand eggs a -day.”</p> -<p>He stopped and set down his box and his pitcher.</p> -<p>“If we manage properly. But there’s the -rub. Success in bee-keeping is all a question of -numbers. The more worker-bees there are when the honey-flow -begins, the greater will be the honey-harvest. The whole -art of the bee-keeper consists in maintaining a steady increase -in population from the first moment the queens begin to lay in -January, until the end of May brings on the rush of the white -clover, and every bee goes mad with work from morning to -night. Of course, in countries where the climate is -reasonable, and the year may be counted on to warm up steadily -month by month, all this is fairly easy; but with topsy-turvy -weather, such as we get in England, it is a vastly different -matter. Just listen to the bees now! And this is only -February!’”</p> -<p>A deep vibrating murmur was upon the air. It came from -all sides of us; it rose from under foot, where the crocuses were -blooming; it seemed to fill the blue sky above with an ocean of -sweet sound. The sunlight was alive with scintillating -points of light, like cast handfuls of diamonds, as the bees -darted hither and thither, or hovered in little joyous companies -round every hive. They swept to and fro between us; -gambolled about our heads; came with a sudden shrill menacing -note and scrutinised our mouths, our ears, our eyes, or <a -name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>settled on -our hands and faces, comfortably, and with no apparent haste to -be gone. The bee-master noted my growing uneasiness, not to -say trepidation.</p> -<p>“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “It -is only their companionableness. They won’t -sting—at least, not if you give them their way. But -now come and see what we are doing to help on the queens in their -work.”</p> -<p>At different stations in the garden I had noticed some shallow -wooden trays standing among the hives. The old bee-man led -the way to one of these. Here the humming was louder and -busier than ever. The tray was full of fine wood-shavings, -dusted over with the yellow powder from the bee-master’s -box; and scores of bees were at work in it, smothering themselves -from head to foot, and flying off like golden millers to the -hives.</p> -<p>“This is pea-flour,” explained the master, -“and it takes the place of pollen as food for the young -bees, until the spring flowers open and the natural supply is -available. This forms the first step in the -bee-keeper’s work of patching up the defective English -climate. From the beginning our policy is to deceive the -queens into the belief that all is prosperity and progress -outside. We keep all the hives well covered up, and -contract the entrances, so that a high temperature is maintained -within, and the queens imagine summer is already advancing. -Then they see the pea-flour coming in plentifully, and conclude -that the fields and hillsides are covered with flowers; for they -never come out of the hives except at swarming-time, and must -judge of the year by what they see around them. Then in a -week or two we shall put the <a name="page27"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 27</span>spring-feeders on, and give each hive -as much syrup as the bees can take down; and this, again, leads -the queens into the belief that the year’s food-supply has -begun in earnest. The result is that the winter lethargy in -the hive is soon completely overthrown, the queens begin to lay -unrestrictedly, and the whole colony is forging on towards summer -strength long before there is any natural reason for -it.”</p> -<p>We were stooping down, watching the bees at the nearest -hive. A little cloud of them was hovering in the sunshine, -heads towards the entrance, keeping up a shrill jovial contented -note as they flew. Others were roving round with a vagrant, -workless air, singing a low desultory song as they trifled about -among the crocuses, passing from gleaming white to rich purple, -then to gold, and back again to white, just as the mood took -them. In the hive itself there was evidently a kind of -spring-cleaning well in progress. Hundreds of the bees were -bringing out minute sand-coloured particles, which accumulated on -the alighting-board visibly as we watched. Now and again a -worker came backing out, dragging a dead bee laboriously after -her. Instantly two or three others rushed to help in the -task, and between them they tumbled the carcass over the edge of -the footboard down among the grass below. Sometimes the -burden was of a pure white colour, like the ghost of a bee, -perfect in shape, with beady black eyes, and its colourless wings -folded round it like a cerecloth. Then it seemed to be less -weighty, and its carrier usually shouldered the gruesome thing, -and flew away with it high up into the sunshine, and swiftly out -of view.</p> -<p><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -28</span>“Those are the undertakers,” said the -bee-master, ruminatively filling a pipe. “Their work -is to carry the dead out of the hive. That last was one of -the New Year’s brood, and they often die in the cell like -that, especially at the beginning of the season. All that -fine drift is the cell-cappings thrown down during the winter -from time to time as the stores were broached, and every warm day -sees them cleaning up the hive in this way. And now watch -these others—these that are coming and going straight in -and out of the hive.”</p> -<p>I followed the pointing pipe-stem. The alighting-stage -was covered with a throng of bees, each busily intent on some -particular task. But every now and then a bee emerged from -the hive with a rush, elbowed her way excitedly through the -crowd, and darted straight off into the sunshine without an -instant’s pause. In the same way others were -returning, and as swiftly disappearing into the hive.</p> -<p>“Those are the water-carriers,” explained the -master. “Water is a constant need in bee-life almost -the whole year round. It is used to soften the mixture of -honey and pollen with which the young grubs and newly-hatched -bees are fed; and the old bees require a lot of it to dilute -their winter stores. The river is the traditional -watering-place for my bees here, and in the summer it serves very -well; but in the winter hundreds are lost either through cold or -drowning. And so at this time we give them a water-supply -close at home.”</p> -<p>He took up his pitcher, and led the way to the other end of -the garden. Here, on a bench, he showed me a long row of -glass jars full of water, standing mouth downward, each on its -separate <a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -29</span>plate of blue china. The water was oozing out -round the edges of the jars, and scores of the bees were drinking -at it side by side, like cattle at a trough.</p> -<p>“We give it them lukewarm,” said the old bee-man, -“and always mix salt with it. If we had sea-water -here, nothing would be better; seaside bees often go down to the -shore to drink, as you may prove for yourself on any fine day in -summer. Why are all the plates blue? Bees are as -fanciful in their ways as our own women-folk, and in nothing more -than on the question of colour. Just this particular shade -of light blue seems to attract them more than any other. -Next to that, pure white is a favourite with them; but they have -a pronounced dislike to anything brilliantly red, as all the old -writers about bees noticed hundreds of years ago. If I were -to put some of the drinking-jars on bright red saucers now, you -would not see half as many bees on them as on the pale -blue.”</p> -<p>We moved on to the extracting-house, whence the master now -fetched his smoker, and a curious knife, with a broad and very -keen-looking blade. He packed the tin nozzle of the smoker -with rolled brown paper, lighted it, and, by means of the little -bellows underneath, soon blew it up into full strength. -Then he went to one of the quietest hives, where only a few bees -were wandering aimlessly about, and sent a dense stream of smoke -into the entrance. A moment later he had taken the roof and -coverings off, and was lifting out the central comb-frames one by -one, with the bees clinging in thousands all about them.</p> -<p>“Now,” he said, “we have come to what is <a -name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>really the -most important operation of all in the bee-keeper’s work of -stimulating his stocks for the coming season. Here in the -centre of each comb you see the young brood; but all the cells -above and around it are full of honey, still sealed over and -untouched by the bees. The stock is behind time. The -queen must be roused at once to her responsibilities, and here is -one very simple and effective way of doing it.”</p> -<p>He took the knife, deftly shaved off the cappings from the -honey-cells of each comb, and as quickly returned the frames, -dripping with honey, to the brood-nest. In a few seconds -the hive was comfortably packed down again, and he was looking -round for the next languid stock.</p> -<p>“All these slow, backward colonies,” said the -bee-master, as he puffed away with his smoker, “will have -to be treated after the same fashion. The work must be -smartly done, or you will chill the brood; but, in uncapping the -stores like this, right in the centre of the brood-nest, the -effect on the stock is magical. The whole hive reeks with -the smell of honey, and such evidence of prosperity is -irresistible. To-morrow, if you come this way, you will see -all these timorous bee-folk as busy as any in the -garden.”</p> -<h2><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -31</span>CHAPTER III<br /> -A TWENTIETH CENTURY BEE-FARMER</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was sunny spring in the -bee-garden. The thick elder-hedge to the north was full of -young green leaf; everywhere the trim footways between the hives -were marked by yellow bands of crocus-bloom, and daffodils just -showing a golden promise of what they would be in a few warm days -to come. From a distance I had caught the fresh spring song -of the hives, and had seen the bee-master and his men at work in -different quarters of the mimic city. But now, drawing -nearer, I observed they were intent on what seemed to me a -perfectly astounding enterprise. Each man held a spoon in -one hand and a bowl of what I now knew to be pea-flour in the -other, and I saw that they were busily engaged in filling the -crocus-blossoms up to the brim with this inestimable -condiment. My friend the bee-master looked up on my -approach, and, as was his wont, forestalled the inevitable -questioning.</p> -<p>“This is another way of giving it,” he explained, -“and the best of all in the earliest part of the -season. Instinct leads the bees to the flowers for -pollen-food when they will not look for it <a -name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>elsewhere; -and as the natural supply is very meagre, we just help them in -this way.”</p> -<p>As he spoke I became rather unpleasantly aware of a change of -manners on the part of his winged people. First one and -then another came harping round, and, settling comfortably on my -face, showed no inclination to move again. In my ignorance -I was for brushing them off, but the bee-master came hurriedly to -my rescue. He dislodged them with a few gentle puffs from -his tobacco-pipe.</p> -<p>“That is always their way in the spring-time,” he -explained. “The warmth of the skin attracts them, and -the best thing to do is to take no notice. If you had -knocked them off you would probably have been stung.”</p> -<p>“Is it true that a bee can only sting once?” I -asked him, as he bent again over the crocus beds.</p> -<p>He laughed.</p> -<p>“What would be the good of a sword to a soldier,” -he said, “if only one blow could be struck with it? -It is certainly true that the bee does not usually sting a second -time, but that is only because you are too hasty with her. -You brush her off before she has had time to complete her -business, and the barbed sting, holding in the wound, is torn -away, and the bee dies. But now watch how the thing works -naturally.”</p> -<p>A bee had settled on his hand as he was speaking. He -closed his fingers gently over it, and forced it to sting.</p> -<p>“Now,” he continued, quite unconcernedly, -“look what really happens. The bee makes two or three -lunges before she gets the sting fairly <a -name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>home. -Then the poison is injected. Now watch what she does -afterwards. See! she has finished her work, and is turning -round and round! The barbs are arranged spirally on the -sting, and she is twisting it out corkscrew-fashion. Now -she is free again! there she goes, you see, weapon and all; and -ready to sting again if necessary.”</p> -<p>The crocus-filling operation was over now, and the bee-master -took up his barrow and led the way to a row of hives in the -sunniest part of the garden. He pulled up before the first -of the hives, and lighted his smoking apparatus.</p> -<p>“These,” he said, as he fell to work, “have -not been opened since October, and it is high time we saw how -things are going with them.”</p> -<p>He drove a few strong puffs of smoke into the entrance of the -hive and removed the lid. Three or four thicknesses of warm -woollen quilting lay beneath. Under these a square of linen -covered the tops of the frames, to which it had been firmly -propolised by the bees. My friend began to peel this -carefully off, beginning at one corner and using the smoker -freely as the linen ripped away.</p> -<p>“This was a full-weight hive in the autumn,” he -said, “so there was no need for candy-feeding. But -they most be pretty near the end of their stores now. You -see how they are all together on the three or four frames in the -centre of the hive? The other combs are quite empty and -deserted. And look how near they are clustering to the top -of the bars! Bees always feed upwards, and that means we -must begin spring-feeding right away.”</p> -<p>He turned to the barrow, on which was a large <a -name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>box, lined -with warm material, and containing bar frames full of sealed -honeycomb.</p> -<p>“These are extra combs from last summer. I keep -them in a warm cupboard over the stove at about the same -temperature as the hive we are going to put them into. But -first they must be uncapped. Have you ever seen the Bingham -used?”</p> -<p>From the inexhaustible barrow he produced the long knife with -the broad, flat blade; and, poising the frame of honeycomb -vertically on his knee, he removed the sheet of cell-caps with -one dexterous cut, laying the honey bare from end to end. -This frame was then lowered into the hive with the uncapped side -close against the clustering bees. Another comb, similarly -treated, was placed on the opposite flank of the cluster. -Outside each of these a second full comb was as swiftly brought -into position. Then the sliding inner walls of the -brood-nest were pushed up close to the frame, and the quilts and -roof restored. The whole seemed the work of a few moments -at the outside.</p> -<p>“All this early spring work,” said the bee-master, -as we moved to the next hive, “is based upon the -recognition of one thing. In the south here the real great -honey-flow comes all at once: very often the main honey-harvest -for the year has to be won or lost during three short weeks of -summer. The bees know this, and from the first days of -spring they have only the one idea—to create an immense -population, so that when the honey-flow begins there may be no -lack of harvesters. But against this main idea there is -another one—their ingrained and invincible caution. -Not an egg will <a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -35</span>be laid nor a grub hatched unless there is reasonable -chance of subsistence for it. The populace of the hive must -be increased only in proportion to the amount of stores coming -in. With a good spring, and the early honey plentiful, the -queen will increase her production of eggs with every day, and -the population of the hive will advance accordingly. But -if, on the very brink of the great honey-flow, there comes, as is -so often the case, a spell of cold windy weather, laying is -stopped at once; and, if the cold continues, all hatching grubs -are destroyed and the garrison put on half-rations. And so -the work of months is undone.”</p> -<p>He stooped to bring his friendly pipe to my succour again, for -a bee was trying to get down my collar in the most unnerving way, -and another had apparently mistaken my mouth for the front-door -of his hive. The intruders happily driven off, the master -went back to his work and his talk together.</p> -<p>“But it is just here that the art of the bee-keeper -comes in. He must prevent this interruption to progress by -maintaining the confidence of the bees in the season. He -must create an artificial plenty until the real prosperity -begins. Yet, after all, he must never lose sight of the -main principle, of carrying out the ideas of the bees, not his -own. In good beemanship there is only one road to success: you -must study to find out what the bees intend to do, and then help -them to do it. They call us bee-masters, but bee-servants -would be much the better name. The bees have their definite -plan of life, perfected through countless ages, and nothing you -can do will ever turn them from it. <a -name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>You can delay -their work, or you can even thwart it altogether, but no one has -ever succeeded in changing a single principle in bee-life. -And so the best bee-master is always the one who most exactly -obeys the orders from the hive.”</p> -<h2><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -37</span>CHAPTER IV<br /> -CHLOE AMONG THE BEES</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> bee-mistress looked at my card, -then put its owner under a like careful scrutiny. In the -shady garden where we stood, the sunlight fell in quivering -golden splashes round our feet. High overhead, in the -purple elm-blossom, the bees and the glad March wind made rival -music. Higher still a ripple of lark-song hung in the blue, -and a score of rooks were sailing by, filling the morning with -their rich, deep clamour of unrest.</p> -<p>The bee-mistress drew off her sting-proof gloves in thoughtful -deliberation.</p> -<p>“If I show you the bee-farm,” said she, eyeing me -somewhat doubtfully, “and let you see what women have done -and are doing in an ideal feminine industry, will you promise to -write of us with seriousness? I mean, will you undertake to -deal with the matter for what it is—a plain, business -enterprise by business people—and not treat it flippantly, -just because no masculine creature has had a hand in -it?”</p> -<p>“This is an attempt,” she went on—the -needful assurances having been given—“an attempt, -and, we believe, a real solution to a very real difficulty. -There are thousands of educated women in the <a -name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 38</span>towns who -have to earn their own bread; and they do it usually by trying to -compete with men in walks of life for which they are wholly -unsuited. Now, why do they not come out into the pure air -and quiet of the countryside, and take up any one of several -pursuits open there to a refined, well-bred woman? -Everywhere the labourers are forsaking the land and crowding into -the cities. That is a farmers’ problem, with which, -of course, women have nothing to do. The rough, heavy work -in the cornfields must always be done either by men or -machinery. But there are certain employments, even in the -country, that women can invariably undertake better than men, and -bee-keeping is one of them. The work is light. It -needs just that delicacy and deftness of touch that only a woman -can bring to it. It is profitable. Above all, there -is nothing about it, from first to last, of an objectionable -character, demanding masculine interference. In -poultry-farming, good as it is for women, there must always be a -stony-hearted man about the place to do unnameable necessary -things in a fluffy back-shed. But bee-keeping is clean, -clever, humanising, open-air work—essentially women’s -work all through.”</p> -<p>She had led the way through the scented old-fashioned garden, -towards a gate in the farther wall, talking as she went. -Now she paused, with her hand on the latch.</p> -<p>“This,” she said, “we call the Transition -Gate. It divides our work from our play. On this side -of it we have the tennis-court and the croquet, and other games -that women love, young or old. But it is all serious -business on the other side. And <a name="page39"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 39</span>now you shall see our latter-day -Eden, with its one unimportant omission.”</p> -<p>As the door swung back to her touch, the murmur that was upon -the air grew suddenly in force and volume. Looking through, -I saw an old orchard, spacious, sun-riddled, carpeted with green; -and, stretching away under the ancient apple-boughs, long, neat -rows of hives, a hundred or more, all alive with bees, winnowing -the March sunshine with their myriad wings.</p> -<p>Here and there in the shade-dappled pleasance figures were -moving about, busily at work among the hives, figures of women -clad in trim holland blouses, and wearing bee-veils, through -which only a dim guess at the face beneath could be -hazarded. Laughter and talk went to and fro in the -sun-steeped quiet of the place; and one of the fair bee-gardeners -near at hand—young and pretty, I could have sworn, although -her blue gauze veil disclosed provokingly little—was -singing to herself, as she stooped over an open hive, and lifted -the crowded brood-frames one by one up into the light of day.</p> -<p>“The great work of the year is just beginning with -us,” explained the bee-mistress. “In these -first warm days of spring every hive must be opened and its -condition ascertained. Those that are short of stores must -be fed; backward colonies must be quickened to a sense of their -responsibilities. Clean hives must be substituted for the -old, winter-soiled dwellings. Queens that are past their -prime will have to be dethroned, and their places filled by -younger and more vigorous successors. But it is all -typically women’s work. You have an old <a -name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>acquaintance -with the lordly bee-master and his ways; now come and see how a -woman manages.”</p> -<p>We passed over to the singing lady in the veil, and—from -a safe distance—watched her at her work. Each frame, -as it was raised out of the seething abyss of the hive, was -turned upside down and carefully examined. A little vortex -of bees swung round her head, shrilling vindictively. Those -on the uplifted comb-frames hustled to and fro like frightened -sheep, or crammed themselves head foremost into the empty cells, -out of reach of the disturbing light.</p> -<p>“That is a queenless stock,” said the -bee-mistress. “It is going to be united with another -colony, where there is a young, high-mettled ruler in want of -subjects.”</p> -<p>We watched the bee-gardener as she went to one of the -neighbouring hives, subdued and opened it, drew out all the -brood-combs, and brought them over in a carrying-rack, with the -bees clustering in thousands all about them. Then a -scent-diffuser was brought into play, and the fragrance of -lavender-water came over to us, as the combs of both hives were -quickly sprayed with the perfume, then lowered into the hive, a -frame from each stock alternately. It was the old -time-honoured plan for uniting bee-colonies, by impregnating them -with the same odour, and so inducing the bees to live together -peaceably, where otherwise a deadly war might ensue. But -the whole operation was carried through with a neat celerity, and -light, dexterous handling, I had never seen equalled by any -man.</p> -<p>“That girl,” said the bee-mistress, as we moved -away, “came to me out of a London office a year <a -name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>ago, -anæmic, pale as the paper she typed on all day for a -living. Now she is well and strong, and almost as brown as -the bees she works among so willingly. All my girls here -have come to me from time to time in the same way out of the -towns, forsaking indoor employment that was surely stunting all -growth of mind and body. And there are thousands who would -do the same to-morrow, if only the chance could be given -them.”</p> -<p>We stopped in the centre of the old orchard. Overhead -the swelling fruit-buds glistened against the blue sky. -Merry thrush-music rang out far and near. Sun and shadow, -the song of the bees, laughing voices, a snatch of an old Sussex -chantie, the perfume of violet-beds and nodding gillyflowers, all -came over to us through the lichened tree-stems, in a flood of -delicious colour and scent and sound. The bee-mistress -turned to me, triumphantly.</p> -<p>“Would any sane woman,” she asked, “stop in -the din and dirt of a smoky city, if she could come and work in a -place like this? Bee-keeping for women! do you not see what -a chance it opens up to poor toiling folk, pining for fresh air -and sunshine, especially to the office-girl class, girls often of -birth and refinement—just that kind of poor gentlewomen -whose breeding and social station render them most difficult of -all to help? And here is work for them, clean, -intellectual, profitable; work that will keep them all day long -in the open air; a healthy, happy country life, humanly within -the reach of all.”</p> -<p>“What is wanted,” continued the bee-mistress, as -we went slowly down the broad main-way of the honey-farm, -“is for some great lady, rich in <a name="page42"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 42</span>business ideas as well as in pocket, -to take up the whole scheme, and to start a network of small -bee-gardens for women over the whole land. Very large -bee-farms are a mistake, I think, except in the most favourable -districts. Bees work only within a radius of two or three -miles at most, so that the number of hives that can be kept -profitably in a given area has its definite limits. But -there is still plenty of room everywhere for bee-farms of -moderate size, conducted on the right principles; and there is no -reason at all why they should not work together on the -co-operative plan, sending all their produce to some convenient -centre in each district, to be prepared and marketed for the -common good.”</p> -<p>“But the whole outcome,” she went on, “of a -scheme like this depends on the business qualities imported into -it. Here, in the heart of the Sussex Weald, we labour -together in the midst of almost ideal surroundings, but we never -lose sight of the plain, commercial aspect of the thing. We -study all the latest writings on our subject, experiment with all -novelties, and keep ourselves well abreast of the times in every -way. Our system is to make each hive show a clear, definite -profit. The annual income is not, and can never be, a very -large one, but we fare quite simply, and have sufficient for our -needs. In any case, however, we have proved here that a few -women, renting a small house and garden out in the country, can -live together comfortably on the proceeds from their bees; and -there is no reason in the world why the idea should not be -carried out by others with equal success.”</p> -<p>We had made the round of the whole busy, <a -name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>murmuring -enclosure, and had come again to the little door in the -wall. Passing through and out once more into the world of -merely masculine endeavour, the bee-mistress gave me a final -word.</p> -<p>“You may think,” said she, “that what I -advocate, though successful in our own single instance, might -prove impracticable on a widely extended scale. Well, do -you know that last year close upon three hundred and fifty tons -of honey were imported into Great Britain from foreign sources, -<a name="citation43"></a><a href="#footnote43" -class="citation">[43]</a> just because our home apiculturists -were unable to cope with the national demand? And this -being so, is it too much to think that, if women would only band -themselves together and take up bee-keeping systematically, as we -have done, all or most of that honey could be produced—of -infinitely better quality—here, on our own British -soil?”</p> -<h2><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -44</span>CHAPTER V<br /> -A BEE-MAN OF THE ’FORTIES</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> old bee-garden lay on the verge -of the wood. Seen from a distance it looked like a great -white china bowl brimming over with roses; but a nearer view -changed the porcelain to a snowy barrier of hawthorn, and the -roses became blossoming apple-boughs, stretching up into the May -sunshine, where all the bees in the world seemed to have -forgathered, filling the air with their rich wild chant.</p> -<p>Coming into the old garden from the glare of the dusty road, -the hives themselves were the last thing to rivet -attention. As you went up the shady moss-grown path, -perhaps the first impression you became gratefully conscious of -was the slow dim quiet of the place—a quiet that had in it -all the essentials of silence, and yet was really made up of a -myriad blended sounds. Then the sheer carmine of the -tulips, in the sunny vista beyond the orchard, came upon you like -a trumpet-note through the shadowy aisles of the trees; and after -this, in turn, the flaming amber of the marigolds, broad zones of -forget-me-nots like strips of the blue sky fallen, snow-drifts of -arabis and starwort, <a name="page45"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 45</span>purple pansy-spangles veering to -every breeze. And last of all you became gradually aware -that every bright nook or shade-dappled corner round you had its -nestling bee-skep, half hidden in the general riot of blossom, -yet marked by the steadier, deeper song of the homing bees.</p> -<p>To stand here, in the midst of the hives, of a fine May -morning, side by side with the old bee-man, and watch with him -for the earliest swarms of the year, was an experience that took -one back far into another and a kindlier century. There -were certain hives in the garden, grey with age and smothered in -moss and lichen, that were the traditional mother-colonies of all -the rest. The old bee-keeper treasured them as relics of -his sturdy manhood, just as he did the percussion fowling-piece -over his mantel; and pointed to one in particular as being close -on thirty years old. Nowadays remorseless science has -proved that the individual life of the honey-bee extends to four -or five months at most; but the old bee-keeper firmly believed -that some at least of the original members of this colony still -flourished in green old age deep in the sombre corridors of the -ancient skep. Bending down, he would point out to you, -among the crowd on the alighting-board, certain bees with -polished thorax and ragged wings worn almost to a stump. -While the young worker-bees were charging in and out of the hive -at breakneck speed, these superannuated amazons doddered about in -the sunlight, with an obvious and pathetic assumption of -importance. They were really the last survivors of the -bygone winter’s brood. Their task of hatching the new -spring generation was <a name="page46"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 46</span>over; and now, the power of flight -denied to them, they busied themselves in the work of sentinels -at the gate, or in grooming the young bees as they came out for -their first adventure into the far world of blossoming clover -under the hill.</p> -<p>For modern apiculture, with its interchangeable comb-frames -and section-supers, and American notions generally, the old -bee-keeper harboured a fine contempt. In its place he had -an exhaustless store of original bee-knowledge, gathered -throughout his sixty odd years of placid life among the -bees. His were all old-fashioned hives of straw, hackled -and potsherded just as they must have been any time since Saxon -Alfred burned the cakes. Each bee-colony had its separate -three-legged stool, and each leg stood in an earthen pan of -water, impassable moat for ants and -“wood-li’s,” and such small -honey-thieves. Why the hives were thus dotted about in such -admired but inconvenient disorder was a puzzle at first, until -you learned more of ancient bee-traditions. Wherever a -swarm settled—up in the pink-rosetted apple-boughs, under -the eaves of the old thatched cottage, or deep in the tangle of -the hawthorn hedge—there, on the nearest open ground -beneath, was its inalienable, predetermined home. When, as -sometimes happened, the swarm went straight away out of sight -over the meadows, or sailed off like a pirouetting grey cloud -over the roof of the wood, the old bee-keeper never sought to -reclaim it for the garden.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p46.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“The Bee-Master’s cottage”" -title= -"“The Bee-Master’s cottage”" - src="images/p46.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>“’Tis gone to the shires fer change o’ -air,” he would say, shielding his bleak blue eyes with his -hand, as he gazed after it. “’Twould be agen <a -name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>natur’ -to hike ’em back here along. An’ naught but -ill-luck an’ worry wi’out end.”</p> -<p>He never observed the skies for tokens of to-morrow’s -weather, as did his neighbours of the countryside. The bees -were his weather-glass and thermometer in one. If they -hived very early after noon, though the sun went down in clear -gold and the summer night loomed like molten amethyst under the -starshine, he would prophesy rain before morning. And sure -enough you were wakened at dawn by a furious patter on the -window, and the booming of the south-west wind in the pine-clad -crest of the hill. But if the bees loitered afield far into -the gusty crimson gloaming, and the loud darkness that followed -seemed only to bring added intensity to the busy labour-note -within the hives, no matter how the wind keened or the griddle of -black storm-cloud threatened, he would go on with his evening -task of watering his garden, sure of a morrow of cloudless heat -to come.</p> -<p>He knew all the sources of honey for miles around; and, by -taste and smell, could decide at once the particular crop from -which each sample had been gathered. He would discriminate -between that from white clover or sainfoin; the produce of the -yellow charlock wastes; or the orchard-honey, wherein it seemed -the fragrance of cherry-bloom was always to be differentiated -from that of apple or damson or pear. He would tell you -when good honey had been spoilt by the grosser flavour of -sunflower or horse-chestnut; or when the detestable honey-dew had -entered into its composition; or, the super-caps having been -removed too late in the <a name="page48"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 48</span>season, the bees had got at the early -ivy-blossom, and so degraded all the batch.</p> -<p>Watching bees at work of a fair morning in May, nothing -excites the wonder of the casual looker-on more than the -mysterious burdens they are for ever bringing home upon their -thighs; semi-globular packs, always gaily coloured, and often so -heavy and cumbersome that the bee can hardly drag its weary way -into the hive. This is pollen, to be stored in the cells, -and afterwards kneaded up with honey as food for the young -bees. The old man could say at once by the colour from -which flower each load was obtained. The deep brown-gold -panniers came from the gorse-bloom; the pure snow-white from the -hawthorns; the vivid yellow, always so big and seemingly so -weighty, had been filled in the buttercup meads. Now and -again, in early spring, a bee would come blundering home with a -load of pallid sea-green hue. This came from the gooseberry -bushes. And later, in summer, when the poppies began to -throw their scarlet shuttles in the corn, many of these airy -cargoes would be of a rich velvety black. But there was one -kind which the old bee-man had never yet succeeded in tracing to -its flowery origin. He saw it only rarely, perhaps not a -dozen times in the season—a wonderful deep rose-crimson, -singling out its bearer, on her passage through the throng, as -with twin danger-lamps, doubly bright in the morning glow.</p> -<p>Keeping watch over the comings and goings of his bees was -always his favourite pastime, year in and year out; but it was in -the later weeks of May that his interest in them -culminated. He had <a name="page49"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 49</span>always had swarms in May as far back -as his memory could serve him; and the oldest hive in the garden -was generally the first to swarm. As a rule the bees gave -sufficient warning of their intended migration some hours before -their actual issue. The strenuous pell-mell business of the -hive would come to a sudden portentous halt. While a few of -the bees still darted straight off into the sunshine on their -wonted errands, or returned with the usual motley loads upon -their thighs, the rest of the colony seemed to have abandoned -work altogether. From early morning they hung in a great -brown cluster all over the face of the hive, and down almost to -the earth beneath; a churning mass of insect-life that grew -bigger and bigger with every moment, glistening like wet seaweed -in the morning sun. In the cluster itself there was an -uncanny silence. But out of the depths of the hive came a -low vibrating murmur, wholly distinct from its usual note; and -every now and again a faint shrill piping sound could be heard, -as the old queen worked herself up to swarming frenzy, vainly -seeking the while to reach the royal nursery where the rival who -was to oust her from her old dominion was even then steadily -gnawing through her constraining prison walls.</p> -<p>At these momentous times a quaint ceremonial was rigidly -adhered to by the old bee-master. First he brought out a -pitcher of home-brewed ale, from which all who were to assist in -the swarm-taking were required to drink, as at a solemn -rite. The dressing of the skep was his next care. A -little of the beer was sprinkled over its interior, and then it -was carefully scoured out with a handful of <a -name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>balm and -lavender and mint. After this the skep was covered up and -set aside in the shade; and the old bee-keeper, carrying an -ancient battered copper bowl in one gnarled hand, and a great -door-key in the other, would lead the way towards the hive, his -drab smock-frock mowing the scarlet tulip-heads down as he -went.</p> -<p>Sometimes the swarm went off without any preliminary warning, -just as if the skep had burst like a bombshell, volleying its -living contents into the sky. But oftener it went through -the several stages of a regular process. After much waiting -and many false alarms, a peculiar stir would come in the throng -of bees cumbering the entrance to the hive. Thousands rose -on the wing, until the sunshine overhead was charged with them as -with countless fluttering atoms of silver-foil; and a wild joyous -song spread far and wide, overpowering all other sounds in the -garden. Within the hive the rich bass note had ceased; and -a hissing noise, like a great caldron boiling over, took its -place, as the bees inside came pouring out to join the carolling -multitude above. Last of all came the queen. Watching -for her through the glittering gauzy atmosphere of flashing -wings, she was always strangely conspicuous, with her long -pointed body of brilliant chestnut-red. She came hustling -forth; stopped for an instant to comb her antenna on the edge of -the foot-board; then soared straight up into the blue, the whole -swarm crowding deliriously in her train.</p> -<p>Immediately the old bee-man commenced a weird tom-tomming on -his metal bowl. “Ringing the bees” was an exact -science with him. They were <a name="page51"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 51</span>supposed to fly higher or lower -according to the measure of the music; and now the great door-key -beat out a slow, stately chime like a cathedral bell. -Whether this ringing of the old-time skeppists had any real -influence on the movements of a swarm has never been absolutely -determined; but there was no doubt in this case of the -bee-keeper’s perfect faith in the process, or that the bees -would commence their descent and settle, usually in one of the -apple trees, very soon after the din began.</p> -<p>The rapid growth of the swarm-cluster was always one of the -most bewildering things to watch. From a little dark knot -no bigger than the clenched hand, it swelled in a moment to the -size of a half-gallon measure, growing in girth and length with -inconceivable swiftness, until the branch began to droop under -its weight. A minute more, and the last of the flying bees -had joined the cluster; the stout apple-branch was bent almost -double; and the completed swarm hung within a few inches of the -ground, a long cigar-shaped mass gently swaying to and fro in the -flickering light and shade.</p> -<p>The joyous trek-song of the bees, and the clanging melody of -key and basin, died down together. The old murmuring, -songful quiet closed over the garden again, as water over a cast -stone. To hive a swarm thus easily within reach was a -simple matter. Soon the old bee-man had got all snugly -inside the skep, and the hive in its self-appointed -station. And already the bees were settling down to work; -hovering merrily about it, or packed in the fragrant darkness -busy at comb-building, or lancing off to the clover-fields, eager -to begin the task of provisioning the new home.</p> -<h2><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -52</span>CHAPTER VI<br /> -HEREDITY IN THE BEE-GARDEN</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> were in the great high-road of -Warrilow bee-farm, and had stopped midway down in the heart of -the waxen city. On every hand the hives stretched away in -long trim rows, and the hot June sunshine was alive with darting -bees and fragrant with the smell of new-made honey.</p> -<p>“Swarming?” said the bee-master, in answer to a -question I had put to him. “We never allow swarming -here. My bees have to work for me, and not for themselves; -so we have discarded that old-fashioned notion long -ago.”</p> -<p>He brought his honey-barrow to a halt, and sat down -ruminatively on the handle.</p> -<p>“Swarming,” he went on to explain, “is the -great trouble in modern bee-keeping. It is a bad legacy -left us by the old-time skeppists. With the ancient straw -hives and the old benighted methods of working, it was all very -well. When bee-burning was the custom, and all the heaviest -hives were foredoomed to the sulphur-pit, the best bees were -those that gave the earliest and the largest swarms. The -more stocks there were in the garden the more honey there would -be for market. <a name="page53"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 53</span>Swarming was encouraged in every -possible way. And so, at last, the steady, stay-at-home -variety of honey-bee became exterminated, and only the inveterate -swarmers were kept to carry on the strain.”</p> -<p>I quoted the time-honoured maxim about a swarm in May being -worth a load of hay. The bee-master laughed derisively.</p> -<p>“To the modern bee-keeper,” he said, “a -swarm in May is little short of a disgrace. There is no -clearer sign of bad beemanship nowadays than when a strong colony -is allowed to weaken itself by swarming on the eve of the great -honey-flow, just when strength and numbers are most needed. -Of course, in the old days, the maxim held true enough. The -straw skeps had room only for a certain number of bees, and when -they became too crowded there was nothing for it but to let the -colonies split up in the natural way. But the modern -frame-hive, with its extending brood-chamber, does away with that -necessity. Instead of the old beggarly ten or twelve -thousand, we can now raise a population of forty or fifty -thousand bees in each hive, and so treble and quadruple the -honey-harvest.”</p> -<p>“But,” I asked him, “do not the bees go on -swarming all the same, if you let them?”</p> -<p>“The old instincts die hard,” he said. -“Some day they will learn more scientific ways; but as yet -they have not realised the change that modern bee-keeping has -made in their condition. Of course, swarming has its clear, -definite purpose, apart from that of relieving the congestion of -the stock. When a hive swarms, the old queen goes <a -name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>off with the -flying squadron, and a new one takes her place at home. In -this way there is always a young and vigorous queen at the head -of affairs, and the well-being of the parent stock is -assured. But advanced bee-keepers, whose sole object is to -get a large honey yield, have long recognised that this is a very -expensive way of rejuvenating old colonies. The parent hive -will give no surplus honey for that season; and the swarm, unless -it is a large and very early one, will do little else than -furnish its brood-nest for the coming winter. But if -swarming be prevented, and the stock requeened artificially every -two years, we keep an immense population always ready for the -great honey-flow, whenever it begins.”</p> -<p>He took up the heavy barrow, laden with its pile of -super-racks, and started trundling it up the path, talking as he -went.</p> -<p>“If only the bees could be persuaded to leave the -queen-raising to the bee-keeper, and would attend to nothing else -but the great business of honey-getting! But they -won’t—at least, not yet. Perhaps in another -hundred years or so the old wild habits may be bred out of them; -but at present it is doubtful whether they are conscious of any -‘keeping’ at all. They go the old tried paths -determinedly; and the most that we can accomplish is to undo that -part of their work which is not to our liking, or to make a -smoother road for them in the direction they themselves have -chosen.”</p> -<p>“But you said just now,” I objected, “that -no swarming was allowed among your bees. How do you manage -to prevent it?”</p> -<p>“It is not so much a question of prevention as of <a -name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>cure. -Each hive must be watched carefully from the beginning. -From the time the queen commences to lay, in the first mild days -of spring, we keep the size of the brood nest just a little ahead -of her requirements. Every week or two I put in a new frame -of empty combs, and when she has ten frames to work upon, and -honey is getting plentiful, I begin to put on the store-racks -above, just as I am doing now. This will generally keep -them to business; but with all the care in the world the swarming -fever will sometimes set in. And then I always treat it in -this way.”</p> -<p>He had stopped before one of the hives, where the bees were -hanging in a glistening brown cluster from the alighting-board; -idling while their fellows in the bee-garden seemed all possessed -with a perfect fury of work. I watched him as he lighted -the smoker, a sort of bellows with a wide tin funnel packed with -chips of dry rotten wood. He stooped over the hive, and -sent three or four dense puffs of smoke into the entrance.</p> -<p>“That is called subduing the bees,” he explained, -“but it really does nothing of the kind. It only -alarms them, and a frightened bee always rushes and fills herself -with honey, to be ready for any emergency. She can imbibe -enough to keep her for three or four days; and once secure of -immediate want, she waits with a sort of fatalistic calm for the -development of the trouble threatening.”</p> -<p>He halted a moment or two for this process to complete itself, -then began to open the hive. First the roof came off; then -the woollen quilts and square of linen beneath were gradually -peeled from the tops of the comb-frames, laying bare the interior -<a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>of the -hive. Out of its dim depths came up a steady rumbling note -like a train in a tunnel, but only a few of the bees got on the -wing and began to circle round our heads viciously. The -frames hung side by side, with a space of half an inch or so -between. The bee-master lifted them out carefully one by -one.</p> -<p>“Now, see here,” he said, as he held up the first -frame in the sunlight, with the bees clinging in thousands to it, -“this end comb ought to have nothing but honey in it, but -you see its centre is covered with brood-cells. The queen -has caught the bee-man napping, and has extended her nursery to -the utmost limit of the hive. She is at the end of her -tether, and has therefore decided to swarm. Directly the -bees see this they begin to prepare for the coming loss of their -queen by raising another, and to make sure of getting one they -always breed three or four.”</p> -<p>He took out the next comb and pointed to a round construction, -about the size and shape of an acorn, hanging from its lower -edge.</p> -<p>“That is a queen cell; and here, on the next comb, are -two more. One is sealed over, you see, and may hatch out at -any moment; and the others are nearly ready for closing. -They are always carefully guarded, or the old queen would destroy -them. And now to put an end to the swarming fit.”</p> -<p>He took out all the combs but the four centre ones; and, with -a goose wing, gently brushed the bees off them into the -hive. The six combs were then taken to the -extricating-house hard by. The sealed honey-cells on all of -them were swiftly uncapped, and the honey thrown out by a turn or -two <a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>in the -centrifugal machine. Now we went back to the hive. -Right in the centre the bee-master put a new, perfectly empty -comb, and on each side of this came the four principal brood -frames with the queen still on them. Outside of these again -the combs from which we had extracted all the honey were brought -into position. And then a rack of new sections was placed -over all, and the hive quickly closed up. The entire -process seemed the work of only a few minutes.</p> -<p>“Now,” said the bee-master triumphantly, as he -took up his barrow again, “we have changed the whole aspect -of affairs. The population of the hive is as big as ever; -but instead of a house of plenty it is a house of dearth. -The larder is empty, and the only cure for impending famine is -hard work; and the bees will soon find that out and set to -again. Moreover, the queen has now plenty of room for -laying everywhere, and those exasperating prison-cradles, with -her future rivals hatching in them, have been done away -with. She has no further reason for flight, and the bees, -having had all their preparations destroyed, have the best of -reasons for keeping her. Above all, there is the new -super-rack, greatly increasing the hive space, and they will be -given a second and third rack, or even a fourth one, long before -they feel the want of it. Every motive for swarming has -been removed, and the result to the bee-master will probably be -seventy or eighty pounds of surplus honey, instead of none at -all, if the bees had been left to their old primæval -ways.”</p> -<p>“You must always remember, however,” he added, as -a final word, “that bees do nothing <a -name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -58</span>invariably. ’Tis an old and threadbare -saying amongst bee-keepers, but there’s nothing truer under -the sun. Bees have exceptions to almost every rule. -While all other creatures seem to keep blindly to one -pre-ordained way in everything they do, you can never be certain -at any time that bees will not reverse their ordinary course to -meet circumstances you may know nothing of. And that is all -the more reason why the bee-master himself should allow no -deviations in his own work about the hives: his ways must be as -the ways of the Medes and Persians.”</p> -<h2><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -59</span>CHAPTER VII<br /> -NIGHT ON A HONEY-FARM</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> sweet summer dusk was over the -bee-farm. On every side, as I passed through, the starlight -showed me the crowding roofs of the city of hives; and beyond -these I could just make out the dim outline of the -extracting-house, with a cheerful glow of lamplight streaming out -from window and door. The rumble of machinery and the -voices of the bee-master and his men grew louder as I -approached. A great business seemed to be going forward -within. In the centre of the building stood a -strange-looking engine, like a brewer’s vat on legs. -It was eight or nine feet broad and some five feet high; and a -big horizontal wheel lay within the great circle, completely -filling its whole circumference. As I entered, the wheel -was going round with a deep reverberating noise as fast as two -strong men could work the gearing; and the bee-master stood close -by, carefully timing the operation.</p> -<p>“Halt!” he shouted. The great -wheel-of-fortune stopped. A long iron bar was pulled down -and the wheel rose out of the vat. Now I could see that its -whole outer periphery was covered with <a name="page60"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 60</span>frames of honeycomb, each in its -separate gauze-wire cage. The bee-master tugged a -lever. The cages—there must have been twenty-five or -thirty of them—turned over simultaneously like single -leaves of a book, bringing the other side of each comb into -place. The wheel dropped down once more, and swung round -again on its giddy journey. From my place by the door I -could hear the honey driving out against the sides of the vat -like heavy rain.</p> -<p>“Halt!” cried the bee-master again. Once -more the big wheel rose, glistening and dripping, into the yellow -lamplight. And now a trolley was pushed up laden with more -honeycomb ready for extraction. The wire-net cages were -opened, the empty combs taken out, and full ones deftly put in -their place. The wheel plunged down again into its -mellifluous cavern, and began its deep song once more. The -bee-master gave up his post to the foreman, and came towards me, -wiping the honey from his hands. He was very proud of his -big extractor, and quite willing to explain the whole -process. “In the old days,” he said, “the -only way to get the honey from the comb was to press it -out. You could not obtain your honey without destroying the -comb, which at this season of the year is worth very much more -than the honey itself; for if the combs can be emptied and -restored perfect to the hive, the bees will fill them again -immediately, without having to waste valuable time in the height -of the honey-flow by stopping to make new combs. And when -the bees are wax-making they are not only prevented from -gathering honey, but have to consume their own <a -name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>stores. -While they are making one pound of comb they will eat seventeen -or eighteen pounds of honey. So the man who hit upon the -idea of drawing the honey from the comb by centrifugal force did -a splendid thing for modern bee-farming. English honey was -nothing until the extractor came and changed bee-keeping from a -mere hobby into an important industry. But come and see how -the thing is done from the beginning.”</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p60.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“The Wax Makers”" -title= -"“The Wax Makers”" - src="images/p60.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>He led the way towards one end of the building. Here -three or four men were at work at a long table surrounded by -great stacks of honeycombs in their oblong wooden frames. -The bee-master took up one of these. “This,” he -explained, “is the bar-frame just as it comes from the -hive. Ten of them side by side exactly fill a box that goes -over the hive proper. The queen stays below in the -brood-nest, but the worker bees come to the top to store the -honey. Then, every two or three days, when the honey-flow -is at its fullest, we open the super, take out the sealed combs, -and put in combs that have been emptied by the extractor. -In a few days these also are filled and capped by the bees, and -are replaced by more empty combs in the same way; and so it goes -on to the end of the honey-harvest.”</p> -<p>We stood for a minute or two watching the work at the -table. It went on at an extraordinary pace. Each -workman seized one of the frames and poised it vertically over a -shallow metal tray. Then, from a vessel of steaming hot -water that stood at his elbow, he drew the long, flat-headed -Bingham knife, and with one swift slithering cut removed the -whole of the cell-tappings from the surface of the comb. At -<a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>once the -knife was thrown back into its smoking bath, and a second one -taken out, with which the other side of the comb was -treated. Then the comb was hung in the rack of the trolley, -and the keen hot blades went to work on another frame. As -each trolley was fully loaded it was whisked off to the -extracting-machine and another took its place.</p> -<p>“All this work,” explained the bee-master, as we -passed on, “is done after dark, because in the daytime the -bees would smell the honey and would besiege us. So we -cannot begin extracting until they are all safely hived for the -night.” He stopped before a row of bulky -cylinders. “These,” he said, “are the -honey ripeners. Each of them holds about twenty gallons, -and all the honey is kept here for three or four days to mature -before it is ready for market. If we were to send it out at -once it would ferment and spoil. In the top of each drum -there are fine wire strainers, and the honey must run through -these, and finally through thick flannel, before it gets into the -cylinder. Then, when it is ripe, it is drawn off and -bottled.”</p> -<p>One of the big cylinders was being tapped at the moment. -A workman came up with a kind of gardener’s water-tank on -wheels. The valve of the honey-vat was opened, and the rich -fluid came gushing out like liquid amber. “This is -all white-clover honey,” said the bee-master, tasting it -critically. “The next vat there ought to be pure -sainfoin. Sometimes the honey has a distinct almond -flavour; that is when hawthorn is abundant. Honey varies as -much as wine. It is good or bad according to the soil and -the season. Where the horse-chestnut is plentiful the honey -has generally a rank <a name="page63"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 63</span>taste. But this is a -sheep-farmers’ country, where they grow thousands of acres -of rape and lucerne and clover for sheep-feed; and nothing could -be better for the bees.”</p> -<p>By this time the gardener’s barrow was full to the -brim. We followed it as it was trundled heavily away to -another part of the building. Here a little company of -women were busy filling the neat glass jars, with their bright -screw-covers of tin; pasting on the label of the big London -stores, whither most of the honey was sent; and packing the jars -into their travelling-cases ready for the railway-van in the -morning. The whole place reeked with the smell of new honey -and the faint, indescribable odour of the hives. As we -passed out of the busy scene of the extracting-house into the -moist dark night again, this peculiar fragrance struck upon us -overpoweringly. The slow wind was setting our way, and the -pungent odour from the hives came up on it with a solid, almost -stifling, effect.</p> -<p>“They are fanning hard to-night,” said the -bee-master, as we stopped halfway down the garden. -“Listen to the noise they’re making!”</p> -<p>The moon was just tilting over the tree-tops. In its dim -light the place looked double its actual size. We seemed to -stand in the midst of a great town of bee-dwellings, stretching -vaguely away into the darkness. And from every hive there -rose the clear deep murmur of the ventilating bees.</p> -<p>The bee-master lighted his lantern, and held it down close to -the entrance of the nearest hive.</p> -<p>“Look how they form up in rows, one behind the others -with their heads to the hive; and all <a name="page64"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 64</span>fanning with their wings! They -are drawing the hot air out. Inside there is another -regiment of them, but those are facing the opposite way, and -drawing the cool air in. And so they keep the hive always -at the right temperature for honey-making, and for hatching out -the young bees.”</p> -<p>“Who was it,” he asked ruminatively, as the gate -of the bee-farm closed at last behind us, and we were walking -homeward through the glimmering dusk of the lane—“who -was it first spoke of the ‘busy bee’? -Busy! ’Tis not the word for it! Why, from the -moment she is born to the day she dies the bee never rests nor -sleeps! It is hard work night and day, from the cradle-cell -to the grave; and in the honey-season she dies of it after a -month or so. It is only the drone that rests. He is -very like some humans I know of his own sex; he lives an idle -life, and leaves the work to the womenkind. But the drone -has to pay for it in the end, for the drudging woman-bee revolts -sooner or later. And then she kills him. In bee-life -the drone always dies a violent death; but in human -life—well, it seems to me a little bee-justice -wouldn’t be amiss with some of them.”</p> -<h2><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -65</span>CHAPTER VIII<br /> -IN A BEE-CAMP</h2> -<p>“’<span class="smcap">Tis</span> a good -thing—life; but ye never know how good, really, till -you’ve followed the bees to the heather.”</p> -<p>It was an old saying of the bee-master’s, and it came -again slowly from his lips now, as he knelt by the camp-fire, -watching the caress of the flames round the bubbling pot. -We were in the heart of the Sussex moorland, miles away from the -nearest village, still farther from the great bee-farm where, at -other times, the old man drove his thriving trade. But the -bees were here—a million of them perhaps—all singing -their loudest in the blossoming heather that stretched away on -every side to the far horizon, under the sweltering August -sun.</p> -<p>Getting the bees to the moors was always the chief event of -the year down at the honey-farm. For days the waggons stood -by the laneside, all ready to be loaded up with the best and most -populous hives; but the exact moment of departure depended on one -very uncertain factor. The white-clover crop was almost at -an end. Every day saw the acreage of sainfoin narrowing, as -the <a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -66</span>sheep-folds closed in upon it, leaving nothing but bare -yellow waste, where had been a rolling sea of crimson -blossom. But the charlock lay on every hillside like -cloth-of-gold. Until harvest was done the fallows were safe -from the ploughshare, and what proved little else than a -troublesome weed to the farmer was like golden guineas growing to -every keeper of bees.</p> -<p>But at last the new moon brought a sharp chilly night with it, -and the long-awaited signal was given. Coming down with the -first grey glint of morning from the little room under the -thatch, I found the bee-garden in a swither of commotion. A -faint smell of carbolic was on the air, and the shadowy figures -of the bee-master and his men were hurrying from hive to hive, -taking off the super-racks that stood on many three and four -stories high. The honey-barrows went to and fro groaning -under their burdens; and the earliest bees, roused from their -rest by this unwonted turmoil, filled the grey dusk with their -high timorous note.</p> -<p>The bee-master came over to me in his white overalls, a weird -apparition in the half-darkness.</p> -<p>“’Tis the honey-dew,” he said, out of -breath, as he passed by. “The first cold night of -summer brings it out thick on every oak-leaf for miles around; -and if we don’t get the supers off before the bees can -gather it, the honey will be blackened and spoiled for -market.”</p> -<p>He carried a curious bundle with him, an armful of fluttering -pieces of calico, and I followed him as he went to work on a -fresh row of hives. From each bee-dwelling the roof was -thrown off, the inner coverings removed, and one of the squares -<a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>of -cloth—damped with the carbolic solution—quickly drawn -over the topmost rack. A sudden fearsome buzzing uprose -within, and then a sudden silence. There is nothing in the -world a bee dreads more than the smell of carbolic acid. In -a few seconds the super-racks were deserted, the bees crowding -down into the lowest depths of the hives. The creaking -barrows went down the long row in the track of the master, taking -up the heavy racks as they passed. Before the sun was well -up over the hill-brow the last load had been safely gathered in, -and the chosen hives were being piled into the waggons, ready for -the long day’s journey to the moors.</p> -<p>All this was but a week ago; yet it might have been a week of -years, so completely had these rose-red highland solitudes -accepted our invasion, and absorbed us into their daily round of -sun and song. Here, in a green hollow of velvet turf, right -in the heart of the wilderness, the camp had been -pitched—the white bell-tents with their skirts drawn up, -showing the spindle-legged field-bedsteads within; the -filling-house, made of lath and gauze, where the racks could be -emptied and recharged with the little white wood section-boxes, -safe from marauding bees; the honey-store, with its bee-proof -crates steadily mounting one upon the other, laden with rich -brown heather-honey—the finest sweet-food in the -world. And round the camp, in a vast spreading circle, -stood the hives—a hundred or more—knee-deep in the -rosy thicket, each facing outward, and each a whirling vortex of -life from early dawn to the last amber gleam of sunset abiding -under the flinching silver of the stars.</p> -<p><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 68</span>The -camp-fire crackled and hissed, and the pot sent forth a savoury -steam into the morning air. From the heather the deep chant -of busy thousands came over on the wings of the breeze, bringing -with it the very spirit of serene content. The bee-master -rose and stirred the pot ruminatively.</p> -<p>“B’iled rabbit!” said he, looking up, with -the light of old memories coming in his gnarled brown face. -“And forty years ago, when I first came to the heather, it -used to be b’iled rabbit too. We could set a snare in -those days as well as now. But ’twas only a few hives -then, a dozen or so of old straw skeps on a barrow, and naught -but the starry night for a roof-tree, or a sack or two to keep -off the rain. None of your women’s luxuries in those -times!”</p> -<p>He looked round rather disparagingly at his own tent, with its -plain truckle-bed, and tin wash-bowl, and other deplorable signs -of effeminate self-indulgence.</p> -<p>“But there was one thing,” he went on, “one -thing we used to bring to the moors that never comes now. -And that was the basket of sulphur-rag. When the honey-flow -is done, and the waggons come to fetch us home again, all the -hives will go back to their places in the garden none the worse -for their trip. But in the old days of bee-burning never a -bee of all the lot returned from the moors. Come a little -way into the long grass yonder, and I’ll show ye the way of -it.”</p> -<p>With a stick he threshed about in the dry bents, and soon lay -bare a row of circular cavities in the ground. They were -almost choked up with moss and the rank undergrowth of many years -but <a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -69</span>originally they must have been each about ten inches -broad by as many deep.</p> -<p>“These,” said the bee-master, with a shamefaced -air of confession, “were the sulphur-pits. I dug them -the first year I ever brought hives to the heather; and here, for -twenty seasons or more, some of the finest and strongest stocks -in Sussex were regularly done to death. ’Tis a drab -tale to tell, but we knew no better then. To get the honey -away from the bees looked well-nigh impossible with thousands of -them clinging all over the combs. And it never occurred to -any of us to try the other way, and get the bees to leave the -honey. Yet bee-driving, ’tis the simplest thing in -the world, as every village lad knows to-day.”</p> -<p>We strolled out amongst the hives, and the bee-master began -his leisurely morning round of inspection. In the bee-camp, -life and work alike took their time from the slow march of the -summer sun, deliberate, imperturbable, across the pathless -heaven. The bees alone keep up the heat and burden of the -day. While they were charging in and out of the hives, -possessed with a perfect fury of labour, the long hours of -sunshine went by for us in immemorial calm. Like the steady -rise and fall of a windless tide, darkness and day succeeded one -another; and the morning splash in the dew-pond on the top of the -hill, and the song by the camp-fire at night, seemed divided only -by a dim formless span too uneventful and happy to be called by -the old portentous name of Time.</p> -<p>And yet every moment had its business, not to be delayed -beyond its imminent season. Down in the bee-farm the work -of honey-harvesting always <a name="page70"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 70</span>carried with it a certain stress and -bustle. The great centrifugal extractor would be roaring -half the night through, emptying the super-combs, which were to -be put back into the hives on the morrow, and refilled by the -bees. But here, on the moors, modern bee-science is -powerless to hurry the work of the sunshine. The thick -heather-honey defies the extracting-machine, and cannot be -separated without destroying the comb. Moorland -honey—except where the wild sage is plentiful enough to -thin down the heather sweets—must be left in the virgin -comb; and the bee-man can do little more than look on as -vigilantly as may be at the work of his singing battalions, and -keep the storage-space of the hives always well in advance of -their need.</p> -<p>Yet there is one danger—contingent at all seasons of -bee-life, but doubly to be guarded against during the critical -time of the honey-flow.</p> -<p>As we loitered round the great circle, the old bee-keeper -halted in the rear of every hive to watch the contending streams -of workers, the one rippling out into the blue air and sunshine, -the other setting more steadily homeward, each bee weighed down -with her load of nectar and pale grey pollen, as she scrambled -desperately through the opposing crowd and vanished into the -seething darkness within. As we passed each hive, the old -bee-man carefully noted its strength and spirit, comparing it -with the condition of its neighbours on either hand. At -last he stopped by one of the largest hives, and pointed to it -significantly.</p> -<p>“Can ye see aught amiss?” he asked, hastily -rolling his shirt-sleeves up to the armpit.</p> -<p>I looked, but could detect nothing wrong. The <a -name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>multitude -round the entrance to this hive seemed larger and busier than -with any other, and the note within as deeply resonant.</p> -<p>“Ay! they’re erpulous enough,” said the -bee-master, as he lighted his tin-nozzled bellows-smoker and -coaxed it into full blast. “But hark to the -din! ’Tis not work this time; ’tis mortal fear -of something. Flying strong? Ah, but only a yard or -two up, and back again. There’s trouble at hand, and -they’ve only just found it out. The matter is, they -have lost their queen.”</p> -<p>He was hurriedly removing the different parts of the hive as -he spoke. A few quick puffs from the smoker were all that -was needed at such a time. With no thought but for the -tragedy that had come upon them, the bees were rushing madly to -and fro in the hive, not paying the slightest attention to the -fact that their house was falling asunder piecemeal and the -sudden sunshine riddling it through and through, where had been -nothing but Cimmerian darkness before. Under the steady -slow hand of the master, the teeming section-racks came off one -by one, until the lowest chamber—the nursery of the -hive—was reached, and a note like imprisoned thunder in -miniature burst out upon us.</p> -<p>The old bee-keeper lifted out the brood-frames, and subjected -each to a lynx-eyed scrutiny. At last he dived his bare -hand down into the thick of the bees, and brought up something to -show me. It was the dead queen; twice the size of all the -rest, with short oval wings and a shining red-gold body, -strangely conspicuous among the score or so of dun-coloured -workers which still crowded round her on the palm of his -hand.</p> -<p><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -72</span>“In the old days,” said the bee-master, -“before the movable-comb hive was invented, if the queen -died like this, it would throw the whole colony out of gear for -the rest of the season. Three weeks must elapse before a -new queen could be hatched and got ready for work; and then the -honey-harvest would be over. But see how precious time can -be saved under the modern system.”</p> -<p>He led the way to a hive which stood some distance apart from -the rest. It was much smaller than the others, and -consisted merely of a row of little boxes, each with its separate -entrance, but all under one common roof. The old bee-man -opened one of the compartments, and lifted out its single -comb-frame, on which were clustered only a few hundred -bees. Searching among these with a wary forefinger, at last -he seized one by the wings and held it up to view.</p> -<p>“This is a spare queen,” said he. -“’Tis always wise to bring a few to the heather, -against any mischance. And now we’ll give her to the -motherless bees; and in an hour or two the stock will be at work -again as busily as ever.”</p> -<h2><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -73</span>CHAPTER IX<br /> -THE BEE-HUNTERS</h2> -<p>“<span class="smcap">In</span> that bit of -forest,” said the bee-master, indicating a long stretch of -neighbouring woodland with one comprehensive sweep of his thumb, -“there are tons of honey waiting for any man who knows how -to find it.”</p> -<p>I had met and stopped the old bee-keeper and his men, bent on -what seemed a rather singular undertaking. They carried -none of the usual implements of their craft, but were laden up -with the paraphernalia of woodmen—rip-saws and hatchets and -climbing-irons, and a mysterious box or two, the use of which I -could not even guess at. But the bee-master soon made his -errand plain.</p> -<p>“Tons of honey,” he went on. “And we -are going to look for some of it. There have been wild -bees, I suppose, in the forest country from the beginning of -things. Then see how the land lies. There are -villages all round, and for ages past swarms have continually got -away from the bee-gardens, and hived themselves in the hollow -trunks <a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 74</span>of -the trees. Then every year these stray colonies have sent -out their own swarms again, until to-day the woods are full of -bees, wild as wolves and often as savage, guarding stores that -have been accumulating perhaps for years and years.”</p> -<p>He shifted his heavy kit from one shoulder to the other. -Overhead the sun burned in a cloudless August sky, and the -willow-herb by the roadside was full of singing bees and the -flicker of white butterflies. In the hedgerows there were -more bees plundering the blackberry blossom, or sounding their -vagrant note in the white convolvulus-bells which hung in bridal -wreaths at every turn of the way. Beyond the hedgerow the -yellow cornlands flowed away over hill and dale under the torrid -light; and each scarlet poppy that hid in the rustling gold-brown -wheat had its winged musician chanting at its portal. As I -turned and went along with the expedition, the bee-master gave me -more details of the coming enterprise.</p> -<p>“Mind you,” he said, “this is not good -beemanship as the moderns understand it. It is nothing but -bee-murder, of the old-fashioned kind. But even if the bees -could be easily taken alive, we should not want them in the -apiary. Blood counts in bee-life, as in everything else; -and these forest-bees have been too long under the old natural -conditions to be of any use among the domestic strain. -However, the honey is worth the getting, and if we can land only -one big stock or two it will be a profitable day’s -work.”</p> -<p>We had left the hot, dusty lane, and taken to the field-path -leading up through a sea of white clover to the woods above.</p> -<p><a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -75</span>“This is the after-crop,” said the -bee-master, as he strode on ahead with his jingling burden. -“The second cut of Dutch clover always gives the most -honey. Listen to the bees everywhere—it is just like -the roar of London heard from the top of St Paul’s! -And most of it here is going into the woods, more’s the -pity. Well, well; we must try to get some of it back -to-day.”</p> -<p>Between the verge of the clover-field and the shadowy depths -of the forest ran a broad green waggon-way; and here we came to a -halt. In the field we had lately traversed the deep note of -the bees had sounded mainly underfoot; but now it was all above -us, as the honeymakers sped to and fro between the sunlit plane -of blossom and their hidden storehouses in the wood. The -upper air was full of their music; but, straining the sight to -its utmost, not a bee could be seen.</p> -<p>“And you will never see them,” said the -bee-master, watching me as he unpacked his kit. “They -fly too fast and too high. And if you can’t see them -go by out here in the broad sunshine, how will you track them to -their lair through the dim light under the trees? And -yet,” he went on, “that is the only way to do -it. It is useless to search the wood for their nests; you -might travel the whole day through and find nothing. The -only plan is to follow the laden bees returning to the -hive. And now watch how we do that in Sussex.”</p> -<p>From one of the boxes he produced a contrivance like a flat -tin saucer mounted on top of a pointed stick. He stuck this -in the ground near the edge of the clover-field so that the -saucer stood on a <a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -76</span>level with the highest blossoms. Now he took a -small bottle of honey from his pocket, emptied it into the tin -receptacle, and beckoned me to come near. Already three or -four bees had discovered this unawaited feast and settled on it; -a minute more and the saucer was black with crowding bees. -Now the bee-master took a wire-gauze cover and softly inverted it -over the saucer. Then, plucking his ingenious trap up by -the roots, he set off towards the forest with his prisoners, -followed by his men.</p> -<p>“These,” said he, “are our guides to the -secret treasure-chamber. Without them we might look for a -week and never find it. But now it is all plain sailing, as -you’ll see.”</p> -<p>He pulled up on the edge of the wood. By this time every -bee in the trap had forsaken the honey, and was clambering about -in the top of the dome-shaped lid, eager for flight.</p> -<p>“They are all full of honey,” said the bee-master, -“and the first thing a fully-laden bee thinks of is -home. And now we will set the first one on the -wing.”</p> -<p>He opened a small valve in the trap-cover, and allowed one of -the bees to escape. She rose into the air, made a short -circle, then sped away into the gloom of the wood. In a -moment she was lost to sight, but the main direction of her -course was clear; and we all followed helter-skelter until our -leader called another halt.</p> -<p>“Now watch this one,” he said, pressing the valve -again.</p> -<p>This time the guide rose high into the dim air, and was at -once lost to my view. But <a name="page77"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 77</span>the keen eyes of the old bee-man had -challenged her.</p> -<p>“There she goes!” he said, pointing down a long -shadowy glade somewhat to his left. “Watch that bit -of sunlight away yonder!”</p> -<p>I followed this indication. Through the dense -wood-canopy a hundred feet away the sun had thrust one long -golden tentacle; and I saw a tiny spark of light flash through -into the gloom beyond. We all stampeded after it.</p> -<p>Another and another of the guides was set free, each one -taking us deeper into the heart of the forest, until at last the -bee-master suddenly stopped and held up his hand.</p> -<p>“Listen!” he said under his breath.</p> -<p>Above the rustling of the leaves, above the quiet stir of the -undergrowth and the crooning of the stock-doves, a shrill -insistent note came over to us on the gentle wind. The -bee-man led the way silently into the darkest depths of the -wood. Halting, listening, going swiftly forward in turn, at -last he stopped at the foot of an old decayed elm-stump. -The shrill note we had heard was much louder now, and right -overhead. Following his pointing forefinger, I saw a dark -cleft in the old trunk about twenty feet above; and round this a -cloud of bees was circling, filling the air with their rich deep -labour-song. At the same instant, with a note like the -twang of a harp-string, a bee came at me and fastened a red-hot -fish-hook into my cheek. The old bee-keeper laughed.</p> -<p>“Get this on as soon as you can,” he said, -producing a pocketful of bee-veils, and handing me one from the -bunch. “These are wild bees, thirty <a -name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 78</span>thousand of -them, maybe; and we shall need all our armour to-day. Only -wait till they find us out! But now rub your hands all over -with this.”</p> -<p>Every man scrambled into his veil, and anointed his hands with -the oil of wintergreen—the one abiding terror of vindictive -bees. And then the real business of the day commenced.</p> -<p>The bee-master had strapped on his climbing-irons. Now -he struck his way slowly up the tree, tapping the wood with the -butt-end of a hatchet inch by inch as he went. At last he -found what he wanted. The trunk rang hollow about a dozen -feet from the ground. Immediately he began to cut it -away. The noise of the hatchet woke all the echoes of the -forest. The chips came fluttering to the earth. The -rich murmur overhead changed to an angry buzzing. In a -moment the bees were on the worker in a vortex of humming fury, -covering his veil, his clothes, his hands. But he worked on -unconcernedly until he had driven a large hole through the crust -of the tree and laid bare the glistening honeycomb within. -Now I saw him take from a sling-bag at his side handful after -handful of some yellow substance and heap it into the cavity he -had made. Then he struck a match, lighted the stuff, and -came sliding swiftly to earth again. We all drew off and -waited.</p> -<p>“That,” explained the bee-master, as he leaned on -his woodman’s axe out of breath, “is cotton-waste, -soaked in creosote, and then smothered in powdered -brimstone. See! it is burning famously. The fumes -will soon fill the hollow of the tree and settle the whole -company. Then we shall cut away <a name="page79"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 79</span>enough of the rotten wood above to -get all the best of the combs out; there are eighty pounds of -good honey up there, or I’m no bee-man. And then -it’s back to the clover-field for more guide-bees, and away -on a new scent.”</p> -<h2><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -80</span>CHAPTER X<br /> -THE PHYSICIAN IN THE HIVE</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a strange procession coming -up the red-tiled path of the bee garden. The bee-master led -the way in his Sunday clothes, followed by a gorgeous footman, -powdered and cockaded, who carried an armful of wraps and -cushions. Behind him walked two more, supporting between -them a kind of carrying-chair, in which sat a florid old -gentleman in a Scotch plaid shawl; and behind these again strode -a silk-hatted, black-frocked man carefully regulating the -progress of the cavalcade. Through the rain of autumn -leaves, on the brisk October morning, I could see, afar off, a -carriage waiting by the lane-side; a big old-fashioned family -vehicle, with cockaded servants, a pair of champing greys, and a -glitter of gold and scarlet on the panel, where the sunbeams -struck on an elaborate coat-of-arms.</p> -<p>The whole procession made for the extracting-house, and all -work stopped at its approach. The great centrifugal machine -ceased its humming. The doors of the packing-room were -closed, shutting as the din of saw and hammer. Over the -stone <a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -81</span>floor in front of the furnace—where a big caldron -of metheglin was simmering—a carpet was hastily unrolled, -and a comfortable couch brought out and set close to the cheery -blaze.</p> -<p>And now the strangest part of the proceedings commenced. -The old gentleman was brought in, partially disrobed, and -transferred to the couch by the fireside. He seemed in -great trepidation about something. He kept his gold -eyeglasses turned on the bee-master, watching him with a sort of -terrified wonder, as the old bee-man produced a mysterious box, -with a lid of perforated zinc, and laid it on the table close -by. From my corner the whole scene was strongly reminiscent -of the ogre’s kitchen in the fairy-tale; and the muffled -sounds from the packing-room might have been the voice of the -ogre himself, complaining at the lateness of his dinner.</p> -<p>Now, at a word from the black-coated man, the bee-master -opened his box. A loud angry buzzing uprose, and about a -dozen bees escaped into the air, and flew straight for the -window-glass. The bee-master followed them, took one -carefully by the wings, and brought it over to the old -gentleman. His apprehensions visibly redoubled. The -doctor seized him in an iron, professional grip.</p> -<p>“Just here, I think. Close under the -shoulder-blade. Now, your lordship . . . ”</p> -<p>Viciously the infuriated bee struck home. For eight or -ten seconds she worked her wicked will on the patient. -Then, turning round and round, she at last drew out her sting, -and darted back to the window.</p> -<p>But the bee-master was ready with another of his living -stilettos. Half a dozen times the operation <a -name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>was repeated -on various parts of the suffering patient’s body. -Then the old gentleman—who, by this time, had passed from -whimpering through the various stages of growing indignation to -sheer undisguised profanity—was restored to his -apparel. The procession was re-formed, and the bee-master -conducted it to the waiting carriage, with the same ceremony as -before.</p> -<p>As we stood looking after the retreating vehicle, the old -bee-man entered into explanations.</p> -<p>“That,” said he, “is Lord H—, and he -has been a martyr to rheumatism these ten years back. I -could have cured him long ago if he had only come to me before, -as I have done many a poor soul in these parts; but he, and those -like him, are the last to hear of the physician in the -hive. He will begin to get better now, as you will -see. He is to be brought here every fortnight; but in a -month or two he will not need the chair. And before the -winter is out he will walk again as well as the best of -us.”</p> -<p>We went slowly back through the bee-farm. The -working-song of the bees seemed as loud as ever in the keen -October sunshine. But the steady deep note of summer was -gone; and the peculiar bee-voice of autumn—shrill, anxious, -almost vindictive—rang out on every side.</p> -<p>“Of course,” continued the bee-master, -“there is nothing new in this treatment of rheumatism by -bee-stings. It is literally as old as the hills. -Every bee-keeper for the last two thousand years has known of -it. But it is as much as a preventive as a cure that the -acid in a bee’s sting is valuable. The rarest thing -in the world is to find a bee-keeper <a name="page83"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 83</span>suffering from rheumatism. And -if every one kept bees, and got stung occasionally, the doctors -would soon have one ailment the less to trouble about.”</p> -<p>“But,” he went on, “there is something much -pleasanter and more valuable to humanity, ill or well, to be got -from the hives. And that is the honey itself. Honey -is good for old and young. If mothers were wise they would -never give their children any other sweet food. Pure ripe -honey is sugar with the most difficult and most important part of -digestion already accomplished by the bees. Moreover, it is -a safe and very gentle laxative. And probably, before each -comb-cell is sealed up, the bee injects a drop of acid from her -sting. Anyway, honey has a distinct aseptic property. -That is why it is so good for sore throats or chafed -skins.”</p> -<p>We had got back to the extracting house, where the great -caldron of metheglin was still bubbling over the fire. The -old bee-keeper relieved himself of his stiff Sunday coat, donned -his white linen overalls, and fell to skimming the pot.</p> -<p>“There is another use,” said he, after a -ruminative pause, “to which honey might be put, if only -doctors could be induced to seek curative power in ancient homely -things, as they do with the latest new poisons from -Germany. That is in the treatment of obesity. Fat -people, who are ordered to give up sugar, ought to use honey -instead. In my time I have persuaded many a one to try it, -and the result has always been the same—a steady reduction -in weight, and better health all round. Then, again, -dyspeptic folk would find most of their troubles vanish if they -substituted the already <a name="page84"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 84</span>half-digested honey wherever ordinary -sugar forms part of their diet. And did you ever try honey -to sweeten tea or coffee? Of course, it must be pure, and -without any strongly-marked flavour; but no one would ever return -to sugar if once good honey had been tried in this way, or in any -kind of cookery where sugar is used.”</p> -<p>The bee-master ran his fingers through his hair, of which he -had a magnificent iron-grey crop. The fingers were -undeniably sticky; but it was an old habit of his, when in -thoughtful mood, and the action seemed to remind him of -something. His eyes twinkled merrily.</p> -<p>“Now,” said he, “you are a writer for the -papers, and you may therefore want to go into the hair-restoring -business some day. Well, here is a recipe for you. It -is nothing but honey and water, in equal parts, but it is highly -recommended by all the ancient writers on beemanship. Have -I tried it? Well, no; at least, not intentionally. -But in extracting honey it gets into most places, the hair not -excepted. At any rate, honey as a hair-restorer was one of -the most famous nostrums of the Middle Ages, and may return to -popular favour even now. However, here is something there -can be no question about.”</p> -<p>He went to a cupboard, and brought out a jar full of a viscid -yellow substance.</p> -<p>“This,” he said, “is an embrocation, and it -is the finest thing I know for sprains and bruises. It is -made of the wax from old combs, dissolved in turpentine, and if -we got nothing else from the hives bee-keeping would yet be -justified as a humanitarian calling. Its virtues may be in -the <a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>wax, -or they may be due to the turpentine, but probably they lie in -another direction altogether. Bees collect a peculiar -resinous matter from pine trees and elsewhere, with which they -varnish the whole surface of their combs, and this may be the -real curative element in the stuff.”</p> -<p>Now, with a glance at the clock, the bee-master went to the -open door and hailed his foreman in from his work about the -garden. Between them they lifted away the heavy caldron -from the fire, and tilted its steaming contents into a barrel -close at hand. The whole building filled at once with a -sweet penetrating odour, which might well have been the -concentrated fragrance of every summer flower on the -countryside.</p> -<p>“But of all the good things given us by the wise -physician of the hive,” quoth the old bee-keeper, -enthusiastically, “there is nothing so good as well-brewed -metheglin. This is just as I have made it for forty years, -and as my father made it long before that. Between us we -have been brewing mead for more than a century. It is -almost a lost art now; but here in Sussex there are still a few -antiquated folk who make it, and some, even, who remember the old -methers—the ancient cups it used to be quaffed from. -As an everyday drink for working-men, wholesome, nourishing, -cheering, there is nothing like it in or out of the -Empire.”</p> -<h2><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -86</span>CHAPTER XI<br /> -WINTER WORK ON THE BEE-FARM</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> light snow covered the path -through the bee-farm, and whitened the roof of every hive. -In the red winter twilight it looked more like a human city than -ever, with its long double rows of miniature houses stretching -away into the dusk on either hand, and its broad central -thoroughfare, where the larger hives crowded shoulder to -shoulder, casting their black shadows over the glimmering -snow.</p> -<p>The bee-master led the way towards the extracting-house at the -end of the garden, as full of his work, seemingly, as ever he had -been in the press of summer days. There was noise enough -going on in the long lighted building ahead of us, but I missed -the droning song of the great extractor itself.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p86.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“Hard Times for the Bees”" -title= -"“Hard Times for the Bees”" - src="images/p86.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>“No; we have done with honey work for this year,” -said the old bee-man. “It is all bottled and cased -long ago, and most of it gone to London. But there’s -work enough still, as you’ll see. The bees get their -long rest in the winter; but, on a big honey-farm, the humans -must work all the year round.”</p> -<p><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>As we -drew into the zone of light from the windows, many sounds that -from afar had seemed incongruous enough on the silent, -frost-bound evening began to explain themselves. The whole -building was full of busy life. A furnace roared under a -great caldron of smoking syrup, which the foreman was vigorously -stirring. In the far corner an oil engine clanked and -spluttered. A circular saw was screaming through a baulk of -timber, slicing it up into thin planks as a man would turn over -the leaves of a book. Planing machines and hammers and -handsaws innumerable added their voices to the general chorus; -and out of the shining steel jaws of an implement that looked -half printing-press and half clothes-wringer there flowed sheet -after sheet of some glistening golden material, the use of which -I could only dimly guess at.</p> -<p>But I had time only for one swift glance at this mysterious -monster. The bee-master gripped me by the arm and drew me -towards the furnace.</p> -<p>“This is bee-candy,” he explained, “winter -food for the hives. We make a lot of it and send it all -over the country. But it’s ticklish work. When -the syrup comes to the galloping-point it must boil for one -minute, no more and no less. If we boil it too little it -won’t set, and if too much it goes hard, and the bees -can’t take it.”</p> -<p>He took up his station now, watch in hand, close to the man -who was stirring, while two or three others looked anxiously -on.</p> -<p>“Time!” shouted the bee-master.</p> -<p>The great caldron swung off the stove on its suspending -chain. Near the fire stood a water tank, and into this the -big vessel of boiling syrup was <a name="page88"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 88</span>suddenly doused right up to the brim, -the stirrer labouring all the time at the seething grey mass more -furiously than ever.</p> -<p>“The quicker we can cool it the better it is,” -explained the old bee-keeper, through the steam. He was -peering into the caldron as he spoke, watching the syrup change -from dark clear grey to a dirty white, like half-thawed -snow. Now he gave a sudden signal. A strong rod was -instantly passed through the handles of the caldron. The -vessel was whisked out of its icy bath and borne rapidly -away. Following hard upon its heels, we saw the bearers -halt near some long, low trestle-tables, where hundreds of little -wooden boxes were ranged side by side. Into these the -thick, sludgy syrup was poured as rapidly as possible, until all -were filled.</p> -<p>“Each box,” said the bee-master, as we watched the -candy gradually setting snow-white in its wooden frames, -“each box holds about a pound. The box is put into -the hive upside-down on the top of the comb-frames, just over the -cluster of bees; and the bottom is glazed because then you can -see when the candy is exhausted, and the time has come to put on -another case. What is it made of? Well, every maker -has his own private formula, and mine is a secret like the -rest. But it is sugar, mostly—cane-sugar. -Beet-sugar will not do; it is injurious to the bees.</p> -<p>“But candy-making,” he went on, as we moved slowly -through the populous building, “is by no means the only -winter work on a bee-farm. There are the hives to make for -next season; all those we shall need for ourselves, and hundreds -more we <a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -89</span>sell in the spring, either empty or stocked with -bees. Then here is the foundation mill.”</p> -<p>He turned to the contrivance I had noticed on my entry. -The thin amber sheets of material, like crinkled glass, were -still flowing out between the rollers. He took a sheet of -it as it fell, and held it up to the light. A fine -hexagonal pattern covered it completely from edge to edge.</p> -<p>“This,” he said, “we call -super-foundation. It is pure refined wax, rolled into -sheets as thin as paper, and milled on both sides with the shapes -of the cells. All combs now are built by the bees on this -artificial foundation; and there is enough wax here, thin as it -is, to make the entire honeycomb. The bees add nothing to -it, but simply knead it and draw it out into a comb two inches -wide; and so all the time needed for wax-making by the bees is -saved just when time is most precious—during the short -season of the honey-flow.”</p> -<p>He took down a sheet from another pile close at hand.</p> -<p>“All that thin foundation,” he explained, -“is for section-honey, and will be eaten. But this -you could not eat. This is brood-foundation, made extra -strong to bear the great heat of the lower hive. It is put -into the brood-nest, and the cells reared on it are the cradles -for the young bees. See how dense and brown it is, and how -thick; it is six or seven times as heavy as the other. But -it is all pure wax, though not so refined, and is made in the -same way, serving the same useful, time-saving -purpose.”</p> -<p>We moved on towards the store-rooms, out of the clatter of the -machinery.</p> -<p><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -90</span>“It was a great day,” he said, reflectively, -“a great day for bee-keeping when foundation was -invented. The bee-man who lets his hives work on the old -obsolete natural system nowadays makes a hopeless handicap of -things. Yet the saving of time and bee-labour is not the -only, and is hardly the most important, outcome of the use of -foundation. It has done a great deal more than that, for it -has solved the very weighty problem of how to keep the number of -drones in a hive within reasonable limits.”</p> -<p>He opened the door of a small side-room. From ceiling to -floor the walls were covered with deep racks loaded with frames -of empty comb, all ready for next season. Taking down a -couple of the frames, he brought them out into the light.</p> -<p>“These will explain to you what I mean,” said -he. “This first one is a natural-built comb, made -without the milled foundation. The centre and upper part, -you see, is covered on both sides with the small cells of the -worker-brood. But all the rest of the frame is filled with -larger cells, and in these only drones are bred. Bees, if -left to themselves, will always rear a great many more drones -than are needed; and as the drones gather no stores but only -consume them in large quantities, a superabundance of the -male-bees in a hive must mean a diminished honey-yield. But -the use of foundation has changed all that. Now look at -this other frame. By filling all brood-frames with -worker-foundation, as has been done here, we compel the bees to -make only small cells, in which the rearing of drones is almost -impossible; and so we keep <a name="page91"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 91</span>the whole brood-space in the hive -available for the generation of the working bee alone.”</p> -<p>“But,” I asked him, “are not drones -absolutely necessary in a hive? The population cannot -increase without the male bees.”</p> -<p>“Good drones are just as important in a bee-garden as -high-mettled, prolific queens,” he said; “and -drone-breeding on a small scale must form part of the work on -every modern bee-farm of any size. But my own practice is -to confine the drones to two or three hives only. These are -stationed in different parts of the farm. They are always -selected stocks of the finest and most vigorous strain, and in -them I encourage drone-breeding in every possible way. But -the male bees in all honey-producing hives are limited to a few -hundreds at most.”</p> -<p>Coming out into the darkness from the brilliantly-lighted -building, we had gone some way on our homeward road through the -crowded bee-farm before we marked the change that had come over -the sky. Heavy vaporous clouds were slowly driving up from -the west and blotting the stars out one by one. All their -frosty sparkle was gone, and the night air had no longer the keen -tooth of winter in it. The bee-master held up his hand.</p> -<p>“Listen!” he said. “Don’t you -hear anything?”</p> -<p>I strained my ears to their utmost pitch. A dog barked -forlornly in the distant village. Some night-bird went past -overhead with a faint jangling cry. But the slumbering -bee-city around us was as silent and still as death.</p> -<p>“When you have lived among bees for forty <a -name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>years,” -said the bee-master, plodding on again, “you may get ears -as long as mine. Just reckon it out. The wind has -changed; that curlew knows the warm weather is coming; but the -bees, huddled together in the midst of a double-walled hive, -found it out long ago. Now, there are between three and -four hundred hives here. At a very modest computation, -there must be as many bees crowded together on these few acres of -land as there are people in the whole of London and Brighton -combined. And they are all awake, and talking, and telling -each other that the cold spell is past. That is what I can -hear now, and shall hear—down in the house yonder—all -night long.”</p> -<h2><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -93</span>CHAPTER XII<br /> -THE QUEEN BEE: IN ROMANCE AND REALITY</h2> -<p>“<span class="smcap">Queens</span>?” said the -Bee-Master of Warrilow, as he filled his pipe with the blackest -and strongest tobacco I had ever set eyes on; -“queens? There are hundreds of hives here, as you can -see; and there isn’t a queen in any one of them.”</p> -<p>He drew at the pipe until he had coaxed it into full blast, -and the smoke went drifting idly away through the still April -sunshine. We were in the very midst of the bee-garden, -sitting side by side on the honey-barrow after a long -morning’s work among the hives; and the old bee-man had -lapsed into his usual contemplative mood.</p> -<p>“’Tis a pretty idea,” he went on, -“this of royalty, and a realm of dutiful subjects, and all -the rest of it, in bee-life. But experience in apiculture, -as with most things of this world, does away with a good many -fine and fanciful notions. Now, the mother-bee in a hive, -whatever else you might call her, is certainly not a queen, in -the sense of ruling over the other bees in the colony. The -truth is she has little or nothing to do with the direction of -affairs. All the thinking and contriving is done by <a -name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 94</span>the -worker-bees. They have the whole management of the hive, -and simply look upon the queen as a much prized and -carefully-guarded piece of egg-laying machinery, to be made the -most of as long as her usefulness lasts, but to be thrown over -and replaced by another the moment her powers begin to -flag.”</p> -<p>“No; there are no queens, properly so called, in -bee-life,” he continued. “All that belongs to -the good old times when there were nothing but straw-skeps, and -’twas well-nigh impossible to get at the rights of -anything; so the bee-keeper went on believing that honey was made -out of starshine, and young bees were bred from the juice of -white honeysuckle, which was all pretty enough in its way, even -though it warn’t true. But nowadays, when they make -hives with comb-frames that can be lifted out and looked at in -the broad light of day, folk are beginning to understand a power -of things about bees that were dark mysteries only a while -ago.”</p> -<p>He puffed at his pipe for a little in silence. Far away -over the great province of hives, the clock on the -extracting-house pointed to half-past twelve; and, true to their -usual time, the home-staying bees—the housekeepers and -nurses and lately hatched young ones—were out for their -midday exercise. The foragers were going to and fro as -thickly as ever with their loads of pollen and water for the -still cradled larvæ within; but now round every hive a -little cloud of bees hovered, filling the sunshine with the -drowsy music of their wings. The old bee-man took up his -theme again presently at the point he had broken it off.</p> -<p><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -95</span>“If,” said he, “you keep a fairly -close watch on the progress of any one particular hive, from the -time the first eggs appear in the combs early in January, -’tis very easy to see how the old false ideas got into -general use. At first glance a bee-colony looks very much -like a kingdom; and the single large bee, that all the others pay -court to and attend so carefully, seems very like a queen. -Then, when you look a little deeper and begin to understand more, -appearances are still all in favour of the old view of -things. The mother-bee seems, on the face of it, a miracle -of intelligence and foresight. While, as far as you know, -all other creatures in the world bring forth their young of both -sexes haphazard, this one can lay male or female eggs apparently -at will. You watch her going from comb to comb, and the -eggs she drops in the small cells hatch out females, and those -she puts in the larger ones are always males, or drones. -More than that: she seems always to know the exact condition of -the hive, and to be able to limit her egg-laying according to its -need, or otherwise, of population; for either you see her filling -only a few cells each day in a little patch of comb that can be -covered with the palm of your hand, or she goes to work on a -gigantic scale, and, in twenty-four hours, produces eggs that -weigh more than twice as much as her whole body.”</p> -<p>He got up now and began pacing to and fro, as was his custom -when much in earnest over his bee-talk.</p> -<p>“Then,” he went on, “to cap all, as the -honey season draws on to its height, you are forced presently to -realise that the queen has conceived and <a -name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 96</span>is carrying -through a scheme for the good of her subjects that would do -credit to the wisest ruler ever born in human purple. Every -day of summer sunshine has brought thousands of young bees to -life. The hive is getting overcrowded. Sooner or -later one of two things must happen—either the increase of -population must be checked, or a great party must be formed to -leave the old home and go out to establish another one. -Then it is that the mother-bee seems to prove beyond a doubt her -wisdom and queenliness. She decides for the emigration; but -as a leader must be found for the party, and none is at hand, she -forms the resolve to head it herself. From that moment a -change comes over the whole hive. Preparation for the -coming event goes on fast and furiously, and excitement increases -day by day. But the queen seems to forget nothing. A -new ruler for the old realm must be provided to take her place -when she is gone for ever; and now you see a party of bees set to -work on something that fairly beggars curiosity. At first -it looks exactly like an acorn-cup in wax hanging from the -under-edge of the comb. Perhaps the next time you look the -cup has grown to twice its original size; and now you see it is -half full of a glistening white jelly. The next time, -maybe, you open the hive, the acorn has been added to the cup; -the queen-cell is sealed over and finished, and about a week -later there comes out a full-grown queen bee, twice the size of -the ordinary worker and quite different in shape and often in -colour too. But days before the new ruler is ready the -excitement in the hive has grown to fever-pitch. If you -come out then in the quiet of the night <a -name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>and put your -ear close to the hive, you will hear a shrill piping noise which -the ancient skeppists tell you is the old queen calling her -subjects together for the swarm on the morrow. And, sure -enough, out she goes with half the population of the hive in her -train, to look for a new home; and in a day or so the new queen -comes out of her cell to take charge of the colony.”</p> -<p>He paused to fill the old briar pipe again, lighting it with -slow deliberate puffs, and I could not help marking how nearly -alike in colour were the bowl and his rugged, sunburnt, clever -face.</p> -<p>“But now, look you!” said he, suddenly levelling -the pipe-stem like a pistol at me to emphasise his words. -“If the mother-bee really brought all this about, queen -would not be a good enough name for her. But the truth is, -throughout all the wonder-workings of the hive, the queen is -little more than an instrument, a kind of automaton, merely doing -what the workers compel her to do. They are the real queens -in the hive, and the mother-bee is the one and only -subject. Did you ever think what a queen-bee actually is, -and how she comes to be there at all? The fact is that the -workers have made her for their own wise purposes, just as they -make the comb and the honey to store in it. The egg she is -hatched from is in no way different from any worker-egg. If -you take one from a queen-cell and put it in the ordinary comb, -it will hatch out a common female worker-bee: and an egg -transferred from worker-comb to a queen-cell becomes a full-grown -queen. Thousands and thousands of worker-eggs are laid in a -hive during the season, and each of those could be made into <a -name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>a queen if -the workers chose. But the worker-egg is laid into a small -cell, and the larva is bred on a bare minimum of food, at the -least possible cost in time, trouble, and space to the hive; -while, when a new queen is wanted, a cell as big as your -finger-top is built, and the larva is stuffed like a prize-pig -through all its five days of active life, until, with unlimited -food and time and room to grow in, it comes out at last a perfect -mother-bee.”</p> -<p>“But,” I asked him, “how is the population -in the hive regulated, and how can the apportionment of the sexes -be brought about? If, as you say, the queen does only what -she is made to do by the workers, and that unthinkingly and -mechanically, you only increase the difficulty of the -problem.”</p> -<p>“As for increasing or restricting the number of eggs -laid,” he said, “that is only a question of food; and -here you see how the workers control the mother-bee entirely, -and, through her, the whole condition of the hive. When she -is egg-laying they feed her from their own mouths with special -predigested food; and the more she gets of this, the more eggs -are laid. But when the season is done, and the need for a -large population over, this rich stimulating diet is kept from -her. She then must go to the honey-cells like the rest, or -starve; and at once her egg-laying powers begin to fall -off. And it is in exactly the same way—by their -management of the queen—that the workers control the -proportion of the sexes in a hive. ’Tis more -difficult to explain, but here is about the rights of it. -Directly the new-hatched queen-bee is ready for work, she flies -out to meet the drones; and one impregnation lasts her whole life -through. But the eggs themselves are <a -name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 99</span>not -fertilised until the very moment of laying, and then only in the -case of those laid in worker-comb: drone-eggs are never -impregnated at all. Now, in all likelihood, as the queen is -being driven over the combs, it is the size of the cell that -determines whether the egg laid shall be male or female. -When the queen thrusts her long pointed body into the narrow -worker-cell, her position is a straight, upright one, and the egg -cannot be laid without passing over the impregnation-gland; but -with the larger drone-cell the queen has room to curve herself, -which is the means, I think, of the egg escaping without being -fertilised. And so you see it is only the female bee that -has two parents; the drone has no father at all.”</p> -<h2><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -100</span>CHAPTER XIII<br /> -THE SONG OF THE HIVES</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">From</span> the lane, where it dipped down -between its rose-mantled hedges, nothing of the bee-garden could -be seen. The dense barricade of briar and hawthorn hid all -but the lichened roof of the ancient dwelling-house; and -strangers going by on their way to the village saw nothing of the -crowding hives, and marked little else than the usual busy murmur -of insect-life common to any sunny day in June.</p> -<p>But when they came out of the green tunnel of hedgerows into -the open fields beyond, chance wayfarers always stopped and -looked about them wonderingly, at length fixing a puzzled glance -intently on the blue sky itself. At this corner, and -nowhere else, seemingly, the air was full of a deep, reverberant -music. A steady torrent of rich sound streamed by overhead; -and yet, to the untutored observer, the most diligent scrutiny -failed to reveal its origin. A few gnats harped in the -sunbeams. Now and again a bumble-bee struck a deep chord or -two in the wayside herbage underfoot. But this clear, -strong voice from the skies was altogether unexplainable. -To human sight, at least, the blue <a name="page101"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 101</span>air and sunshine held nothing to -account for it; and the stranger unversed in honey-bee lore, -after taking his fill of this melodious mystery, generally ended -by giving up the problem as insoluble, and passing on to his -business or pleasure in the little green-garlanded hamlet under -the hill.</p> -<p>That the bees of a fairly large apiary should produce a -considerable volume of sound in their passage to and fro between -the hives and the honey-pastures is in no way remarkable. -In the heyday of the year—the brief six weeks’ -honey-flow of the English summer—probably each normal -colony of bees would send out an army of foragers at least twenty -thousand strong. What really seems matter for wonder is the -way in which bees appear to concentrate their movements to -certain well-defined tracks in the atmosphere. They do not -distribute themselves broadcast over the intervening space, as -they might be expected to do, but wonderfully keep to certain -definite restricted thoroughfares, no matter how near or how -remote their foraging grounds may be.</p> -<p>And this particular gap in the chain of hedgerows really -marked the great main highway for the bees between the hives and -the clover-fields silvering the whole wide stretch of hill and -dale beyond. Every moment had its winged thousands going -and returning. At any time, if a fine net could have been -cast suddenly a few fathoms upward, it would have fallen to earth -black and heavy with bees; but the singing multitude went by at -so fast and furious a pace that, to the keenest sight, not one of -the eager crew was visible. Only the sound of their going -was plain to all; a mighty tenor note abroad <a -name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>in the -sunshine, a thronging sustained melody that never ceased all -through the heat and burthen of the glittering summer’s -day.</p> -<p>When Shelley heard the “yellow bees in the -ivy-bloom,” and he of Avonside wrote of “singing -masons building roofs of gold,” probably neither thought of -the humming of the hive-bee as anything more than an ingredient -in the general delightful country chorus, as distinct from the -less-inspiring labour-note of busy humanity in a town. With -the single exception, perhaps, of Wordsworth, poets, thinking -most of their line, commonly miss the subtler phases of wild -life, such as the continually changing emphasis and capricious -variation in bird song, the real sound made by growth, or the -unceasing movement of things conventionally held to be -inert. And in the same way the endlessly varied song of the -bees has been epitomised by imaginative writers generally into a -sound, pleasantly arcadian enough, but little more suggestive of -life and meaning than the hum of telegraph wires in a breeze.</p> -<p>Yet there are few sounds in nature more bewilderingly complex -than this. For every season in the year the song of the -hives has its own distinct appropriate quality, and this, again, -is constantly influenced by the time of day, and even by the -momentary aspect of the weather. A bee-keeper of the old -school—and he is sure to be the “character,” -the quaint original of a village—manages his hives as much -by ear as by sight. The general note of each hive reveals -to him intuitively its progress and condition. He seems to -know what to expect on almost any day in the year, so that if Rip -van Winkle <a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -103</span>had been an apiarist the nearest bee-garden would have -been as sure a guide to him, in respect of the time of year at -least, as the sun’s declining arc in the heaven is to the -tired reapers in respect of the hour of day.</p> -<p>Most people—and with these must be included even -lifelong country-dwellers—are wont to regard the humming of -the hive-bee as a simple monotone, produced entirely by the rapid -movement of the wings. But this conception halts very far -short of the actual truth. In reality, the sound made by a -honey-bee is threefold. It can consist either of a single -tone, a combination of two notes, or even a grand triple chord, -heard principally in moments of excitement, such as when a -swarming-party is on the wing, or in late autumn and early -spring, when civil war will often break out in an ill-managed -apiary. The actual buzzing sound is produced by the wings; -the deeper musical tones by the air alternately sucked in and -driven out through the spiracles, which are breathing-tubes -ranged along each side of a bee’s body; while the shrill, -clarinet-like note comes from the true voice-apparatus -itself. In ordinary flight it is the wings and the -respiration-tubes conjointly which produce the steady volume of -sound heard as the honey-makers stream over the hedgetop towards -the distant clover-fields; and this is the note also that -pervades the bee-garden through every sunny hour of the -working-day. The rich, soft murmur coming from the -spiracles is probably never heard except when the bee is flying, -but both the true voice and the whirring wing-melody are familiar -as separate sounds to every bee-keeper who studies his hives.</p> -<p><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>When -the summer night has shut down warm and still over the red dusk -of evening, and the last airy loiterer is safely home from the -fields, a curious change comes to the bee-garden. The old -analogy between a concourse of hives and a human city is, at this -season, utterly at fault. Silence and rest after the -day’s work may be the portion of the larger community, but -in the time of the great honey-flow there is neither rest nor -slumber for the bees. A fury of labour possesses them, one -and all; and darkness does not remit, but merely transposes the -scene of their activity. Coming out into the garden at this -hour for a quiet pipe among the hives—an old and favourite -habit with most bee-keeping veterans—the new spirit abroad -is at once manifest. The sulky, fragrant darkness is -silent, quiet with the influence of the starshine overhead; but -the very earth of the footway seems to vibrate with the -imprisoned energy of the hives. This is the time when the -low, rustling roar of wing-music can best be heard, and one of -the most wonderful phases of bee-life studied. The problem -of the ventilation of human hives is attacked commonly on one -main principle—unstinted ingress for fresh air and a like -abundant means of outward passage for the bad. But, if the -bees are to be credited, modern sanitary scientists are trimming -altogether on the wrong tack. A colony of bees will allow -one aperture, and one alone, in the hive, to serve all and every -purpose. If the enterprising novice in beemanship gimlets a -row of ventilation-holes in the back of his hive—an idea -that occurs to most tyros in apiculture—the bees will -infallibly seal them all up again before morning. They work -on entirely different <a name="page105"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 105</span>principles, impelled by their -especial needs. The economy of the hive requires the -temperature to be absolutely and immediately within the control -of the bees, and this is only possible when the ventilatory -system is entirely mechanical. The evaporation of moisture -from the new-gathered nectar, and the hatching of the young -brood, necessitate an amount of heat much less than that required -for wax-generating; as soon as the wax-makers begin to cluster -the temperature of the hive is at once increased. But if a -current of air were continually passing through the hive these -necessary heat variations would be difficult to manage, even -supposing them possible at all; so the bees have invented their -unique system of a single passageway, combined with an ingenious -and complicated process of fanning, by which the fresh air is -sucked in at one side of the entrance and the foul air drawn out -at the other, the atmosphere of the hive being thus maintained in -a constant state of circulation, fast or slow, according to the -temperature needed.</p> -<p>In the hot summer weather these fanning-parties are at work -continuously, being relieved by others at intervals of a few -minutes throughout the day. But at night, when the whole -population of the hive is at home, the need for ventilation is -greatly augmented, and then the open lines of fanners often -stretch out over the alighting-board six or seven ranks deep, -making an harmonious uproar that, on a still night, will travel -incredible distances.</p> -<p>This tense, forceful labour-song of the bee-garden, heard -unremittingly throughout the hours of darkness, is always -pleasant, often indescribably soothing in its effect. But -it is essentially a communal note, <a name="page106"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 106</span>expressive only of the well or ill -being of the hive at large. The individuality, even -personal idiosyncrasy, which undoubtedly exists among bees, finds -its utterance mainly through the true voice-organ. You -cannot stand for long, here, in the quiet of the summer night, -listening to one particular hive, without sooner or later -becoming aware of other sounds, in addition to the general -musical hubbub of the fanning army. It is evident that a -nervous, high-strung spirit pervades the colony, especially -during the season of the great honey-flow. Their common -agreement on all main issues does not prevent these “virgin -daughters of toil” from engaging in sundry sharp -altercations and mutual hustlings in the course of their -business; and, at times of threatening weather, a tendency -towards snappishness, and a whimsical perversity -characteristically feminine, seem to make up the prevailing -tone. It is during these chance forays that the true voice -of the honey-bee, apart from the sounds made by wing and -spiracle, can best be differentiated.</p> -<h2><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -107</span>CHAPTER XIV<br /> -CONCERNING HONEY</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> bee-keepers in English villages -to-day are all familiar—too familiar at times—with -the holiday-making stranger at the garden gate inquiring for -honey. Somehow or other the demand for this old natural -sweet-food appears to have greatly increased of recent years -among wandering townsfolk in the country. A competent -bee-master, dealing with a large number of combs, will not mingle -them indiscriminately, but will unerringly assort them, so that -he will have perhaps at the end of the season almost as many -kinds of honey in store as there are fields on his -countryside. I speak, of course, not of the large -bee-farmer—who, employing of necessity wholesale methods, -can aim only at a good all-round commercial sample of no finely -distinctive colour or flavour—but of the connoisseur in -bee-craft, the gourmet among the hives, who knows that there are -as many varieties in honey as there are in wine, and would as -little dream of confusing them.</p> -<p>Honey lovers who have been eating wax all their days will be -as hardly dissuaded from the practice as he whose custom it may -be to consume the paper <a name="page108"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 108</span>in which his butter is wrapped, or -take a proportion of the blue sugar-bag with the lumps in his -tea. Yet the last are no more absurdities than the former, -except in degree. Pure beeswax has neither savour nor -nutrient properties, and passes wholly unassimilated through the -human system. Even the bees themselves cannot feed upon it -when at dire extremes: the whole hive may die of starvation in -the midst of waxen plenty. Of all creatures, mice, and the -larva of two species of moth, alone will make away with it; and -even in their case it is doubtful whether the comb be not -destroyed for the sake of the odd grains of pollen and the -pupa-skins it contains. Broadly speaking, unless you can -trust a dipped finger-tip to reveal to you on the moment the -qualities of this village-garden honey, it is always safer to buy -in the comb. But the wax should never be eaten. The -proper way to deal with honeycomb at table is to cut it to the -width of the knife-blade; and, laying it upon the plate with the -cells vertical, press the blade flat upon it, when the honey will -flow out right and left. In this way, if duly carried out, -the honey is scientifically separated, no more than one per cent -remaining in the slab of wax.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p108.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“Honey-Comb: its various stages”" -title= -"“Honey-Comb: its various stages”" - src="images/p108.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<h3><i>The Bee as a Chemist</i></h3> -<p>It is not strange, because it is so common, to find people who -have eaten honeycomb regularly all their lives, yet are -unknowingly ignorant of the first rudimentary fact in its nature -and composition. To know that you do not know is an -intelligible state, the initial true step towards knowledge; but -to be full of erroneous information, and that <a -name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -109</span>complacently, is to be ignorant indeed. Of such -are the old lady who dwelt in the Mile End Road, and believed -that cocoanuts were monkeys’ eggs, and the man who will -tell you without expectancy of contradiction that honey is the -food of bees.</p> -<p>Now this is no essay in cheap paradox, but a sober attempt to -reinstate in the public mind the unsophisticated truth. The -natural foods of the bee-hive are the nectar and the pollen, the -“love ferment” of the flowers. On these the bee -subsists entirely, so long as she can obtain them, and will go to -her honey stores only when nature’s fresh supplies have -failed. One speaks by poetic licence, or looseness, of bees -gathering honey from blossoming plants. The fact is they do -nothing of the kind, and never did. The sweet juices of -clover, heather, and the like, differ fundamentally, both in -appearance and in chemical properties from honey. Though -the main ingredient in honey is nectar, the two are totally -different things; and honey, far from being the normal food of -bees, is only a standby for hard times, a sort of emergency -ration, put up in as little compass and with as great a -concentration as such things can be.</p> -<p>The story of how honey is made, and why it is made at all, -forms one of the most interesting items in the history of the -hive-bee. In a land where nectar-yielding plants flourish -all the year through, if such a spot exist at all, there would be -no honey, because the necessity for it would not occur. -Hive-bees in such a land would go all their lives, and assuredly -never dream of honey-making. But wherever there is winter, -or a season when the supply of nectar and pollen temporarily -fails, the <a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -110</span>bee, who does not hibernate in the common sense of the -term, must devise a means of supporting life through the famine -period. Many creatures can and do accomplish this by merely -laying up in a comatose condition until such time as their -natural food is plentiful again, and they may safely resume their -old activities. But this will not do for the doughty -honey-bee. A curious aspect of her life is the way in which -she appears to recognise the competitive spirit in all the higher -forms of earthly existence, and deliberately sets herself in the -fore-rank of affairs with that principle in view. It would -be easy for a few hundred worker-bees to get together in some -warm nook underground, with that carefully tended piece of -egg-laying mechanism, their queen, in their midst; and in a -semi-dormant condition to pass the dark winter months through, -gradually rousing their own fires of life as the year warmed up -again in the spring. But such a system would mean that the -colony would have to start afresh from the bottom of the ladder -of progress with every year. The hive-bee has conceived a -better plan, and the basis, the essential factor of it all, is -this thing of mystery which we call honey.</p> -<h3><i>The True Purpose of the Hive</i></h3> -<p>The ancient Roman name for a beehive was <i>alvus</i>, which, -translated into its blunt Anglo-Saxon equivalent, means -belly. And this gives us in a word the whole secret about -honey-making. As a matter of fact, the hive in summer acts -as a digestive chamber, wherein the winter aliment of the stock -is <a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -111</span>prepared. The bees, during their ordinary -workaday life, subsist on the nectar and pollen which they are -continually bringing into the hive. Much pollen is laid by -in the cells in its raw condition, but pollen is almost -exclusively a tissue-former, and it is not used by the -worker-bees during the winter for their own sustenance, but -preserved until early spring, when it forms the principal -component in the bee-milk on which the larvæ are mainly -fed. The nectar, however, is necessary at all times to -support life in the mature bees, and it must therefore be stored -for use during the long months when there are no flowers to -secrete it.</p> -<p>It is here that we get a glimpse into the ways of the -honey-bee that may well give spur to the most wonder-satiated -amongst us. If a sample of fresh nectar is examined, it -will be found to consist of about seventy per cent of water, the -small remainder of its bulk being made up of what is chemically -known as cane sugar, together with a trace of certain essential -oils and aromatic principles. It is practically nothing but -sweetened and flavoured water. But ripe honey shows a very -different composition. The oils and essences are there, -with some added acids; but of water there is no more than seven -to ten per cent; practically the entire bulk of good honey -consists of sugar, but it is grape sugar, with scarce a trace of -the cane sugar which nectar exclusively contains. To put -the thing in plainest words—the economic honey-bee, finding -herself with three or four months to get through at the least -possible cost in energy and nutriment, has scientifically -reasoned out the matter, and, among other ingenious provisions, -has arranged to subject <a name="page112"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 112</span>her winter food to a process of -pre-digestion during the summer, so that when she consumes it -there shall be neither force expended in its assimilation nor -waste products taken with it, needing to be afterwards -expelled. Honey, in fact, is the nectar digested, and then -regurgitated just when it is ready to be absorbed into the -system. It is almost certain that every drop goes through -this process twice, and possibly three times, in each case by -different bees; and the heat of the hive still further -contributes to the object in view by driving off the superfluous -moisture from the nectar so treated, and thus concentrating it -into an almost perfect food.</p> -<h2><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -113</span>CHAPTER XV<br /> -IN THE ABBOT’S BEE-GARDEN</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Standing</span> in the lane without, and -looking up at the grey forbidding walls of the old abbey, you -wondered how anything human could exist on the other side; but, -once past the heavy iron-studded gate, your thoughts doubled like -hares in the opposite direction.</p> -<p>It seemed good to be a monk, if life could be all sunshine, -and quietude, and beauty like that. As you waited in the -shadow of the great stone-flagged portico, while your coming was -announced, this feeling grew deeper with every moment. The -garden sloped down to the river’s edge, winding footway, -and green lawn, and kitchen-plot all alike girdled and barricaded -with rich-hued autumn flowers. Through the mass of crimson -fuchsia and many-coloured dahlia and hollyhock, bowers of pink -and white geranium with stems as thick as your wrist, ancient -apple-trees drooping under their burden of scarlet fruit, -crowding jungles of roses, you could see the bright waters -sweeping by, and hear their busy sound as they won a way amidst -<a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>the -rocky boulders strewing the bed of the tortuous Devon stream.</p> -<p>Here and there in the sunny field-of-view visible through the -arched doorway, black-robed figures were quietly at work: some -digging; others gathering apples in the orchard; one sturdy -brother was mowing the Abbot’s lawn, the bright blade -coming perilously near his fluttering skirts at every stroke; -another went by trundling a wheelbarrow full of green vegetables -for the refectory table. There was a distant cackle of -poultry, blending oddly with the solemn chant that came from the -chapel hard by. Robins sang everywhere, and starlings -clucked and whistled in the valerian that topped the great -encircling wall. But wherever you looked, whatever drew -away your attention for the moment, you were sure to come back to -the consideration of one preponderant yet inexplicable -thing. A steady, deep note was upon the air. Rich and -resonant, it seemed to come from all directions at once. -The dim, grey-vaulted entrance-porch was full of it. -Looking up into the dusk of oaken beams overhead, there it seemed -at its strangest and loudest. Queerest fact of all, it -appeared to have some mysterious affinity with the sunshine, for -when a stray white argosy of cloud came drifting over the azure -and obscured for a minute the glad light, this full, sonorous -note died suddenly away, rising as swiftly again to its old power -and volume when the sunbeams glowed back once more over the -spacious garden, and over the riverside willows that shed their -gold of dying leafage with every breath of the soft south -wind.</p> -<p>It was not until you stepped outside, and looked <a -name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 115</span>upward over -the face of the old building, that you realised what it all -meant. From its foundation to the highest stone of the -ancient bell-turret, the whole front of the place was thickly -mantled with ivy in full flower, and every yellow tuft of blossom -was besieged with bees. There seemed tens of thousands of -them, hovering and humming everywhere; and thousands more -arriving with every moment out of the blue air, or darting off -again fully laden, and away to some invisible bourne over the -ruddy roof of orchard trees.</p> -<p>Intent on this vociferous wonder, you do not catch the -footfall on the gravel-path in your rear, or see the sombre -figure of the Abbot as he comes towards you, the sweep of his -black frock setting all the marigolds nodding behind him, as -though from a sudden flaw of wind. And now you have another -pleasurable disillusionment as to monkish conditions of -being. Trudging along the deep-cut Devonshire lanes on your -way to the Abbey, through the rain of falling autumn leaves, you -pictured the place to yourself as a kind of sacred sink of -desolation, inhabited by a crew of sour-visaged anchorites, who -found only godlessness in sunshine, and in cakes-and-ale nothing -but assured perdition. But here, coming towards you, -smiling, and with outstretched hand, is the last kind of human -being you expected to see. Clad from head to foot in sober -black, with, for ornament, but the one plain silver cross -swinging at his breast, the Abbot shows, unmistakably, for a -gentleman of cultured and enlightened mien. A fine, swarthy -face, kind, calm eyes behind gold spectacles, a voice like an old -violin, and a grip of the hand that <a name="page116"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 116</span>makes you wince with its abounding -welcome, all combine to set you there and then at your ease; and -talk begins at once on the old, familiar plane among -bee-keepers—the quick, enthusiastic interchange, each -participant as ready a listener as learner, common all the world -over, wherever flowers grow and men love bees.</p> -<p>The brothers of the old Benedictine monastery—so the -Abbot tells you, as he leads the way towards the hives, through -the sun-riddled labyrinth—have kept bees, probably, for -more than a thousand years. There is no doubt that the -original abbey building stood there, in the wooded cleft of Devon -valley, so long ago as the sixth century, nor little question -that its founder was a bee-man, for he was contemporary and -friend of the great St Modonnoc who himself first taught Irishmen -to keep bees.</p> -<p>“Monks, in the very earliest times, were almost -invariably apiculturists,” argues the Abbot. He stops -in the orchard, the more impressively to quote Latin, the glib -leaf-shadows playing the while over his tonsured head. -“Lac et mel; panis, vena rudis. Milk and honey, and -coarse oaten bread. At least we know, from our chronicles, -that these were the common daily fare of our Order more than -eight hundred years ago; and honey remains a part of our food to -this day.”</p> -<p>Thus overawed with the centuries, you begin to form a mental -picture of the bee-garden you are about to visit, voyaging so -pleasantly through winding path and shady thicket, with the -bell-like sound of the water growing clearer and clearer at every -step. With all that hoary tradition of the ages <a -name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>behind -them, you promise yourself, these monks will have clung to their -bee-keeping mediævalism as to some sacred, inviolable -thing. There will be no movable comb-frames, nor American -sections, nor weird, foreign races of bees. They will never -have heard even of foul-brood, or napthol-beta, or the host of -things that bless or curse modern apiculture at every turn of the -way. But, instead, there will be a tangled wilderness of -late blossom, such as only Devonshire can show in November; -dome-shaped hives of straw, each with its singing company about -it; perhaps a superannuated brother or two quietly making straw -hackles to shield the hives against coming winter weather; even, -perchance, the smell of burning brimstone on the air, as the last -remnant of the honey-harvest is gathered in the ancient way, by -“taking up” the strongest and the weakest colonies of -bees.</p> -<p>And then a wicket-gate in the old wall determines the path and -your ruminations together. A sudden burst of sunshine; the -rich medley of sound from fourscore hives lifting high above the -song of the purling stream; and you are out on the broad, green -river-bank, looking on at a scene very different from the one you -have expected.</p> -<p>There are no old-fashioned hives; they are all of the latest, -most scientific pattern, ranged under the shelter of the wall in -two wide terraces of close-shaven turf, looking southward over -the stream. There are outhouses of the most approved -design, where all the business of a modern apiary is going -on. Here and there you see black-frocked figures at work, -dexterously examining the colonies. There is the deep, -whirring note of honey-extractors; the <a -name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 118</span>clamour of -carpenters’ tools; the faint, sickly smell from the -wax-boilers; all the familiar evidences of bee-farming carried on -in the most modern, twentieth-century way.</p> -<p>As you look down the long, trim avenue of gaily-painted hives -your companion has a quiet side-glance upon you, obviously noting -your disappointment.</p> -<p>“What would you?” says he, and his deep voice -rings like a passing-bell for all your dreams. -“Everything must move with the times, or must inevitably -perish. Modernism, rightly understood, is God’s -fairest, most priceless gift to the universe. It is a -crucible through which all things of true metal must pass to lose -the accumulated dross of the ages, keeping their original pure -substance, but taking the new shape required of them by -latter-day needs. It is so with the old, dim windows of -man’s faith; daily the glass is being taken out, smelted -down, purified, replaced; we can see abroad into distances now -never before visible. And so it must prove even with -bee-keeping, which is one of the oldest human occupations in the -world.”</p> -<p>He waves his hand towards the sunny prospect before you. -Beyond the river the burning apple-woods soar steadily upward; -and high above these, stretching away to meet the blue sky, lie -the Devon moorlands, once all rose-red with blossoming heather, -but now, parched and brown, except where a grey crag or rock puts -forth its jagged head.</p> -<p>“It is a fine thing, perhaps,” says the Abbot, -thoughtfully swinging his silver cross in the sunbeams, “to -love old, ignorant customs, old, benighted, useless errors, for -their picturesqueness <a name="page119"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 119</span>and beauty alone. But -don’t you think it is a still finer thing to teach poor -people how they may win from the common hillside plenty of rich, -nourishing food at almost no cost at all? And that is what -we are doing here. Modern bee-science, it is true, gives us -only an ugly utilitarian hive. It sweeps away all the -bright, iridescent cobwebs in they path of bee-keeping, and -substitutes hard fact for pretty fairy-tale. But the sum of -it all is that the poor cottager gains, not twenty or thirty -pounds at most of coarse, unsaleable sweet food from his hives, -but perhaps hundredweights of pure, choice, section-honey, which, -sold in the proper market, will clothe his children comfortably, -and make it possible for them to lead decent human -lives.”</p> -<h2><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -120</span>CHAPTER XVI<br /> -BEES AND THEIR MASTERS</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are three great tokens of the -coming of spring in the country—the elm-blossom, the cry of -the young lambs, and the first rich song of the awakening -bees.</p> -<p>All three come together about the end of February or beginning -of March, and break into the winter dearth and silence in much -the same sudden, unpremeditated way. You look at the -woodlands, cowering under the lash of the shrill north wind, and -all seems bare and black and lifeless. But the wind dies -down in a fiery sunset. With the darkness comes a warm -breath out of the west. On the morrow the spring sunshine -runs high through all the valleys like liquid gold; the elm-tops -are ablaze with purple; from the lambing-pens far and near a new -cry lifts into the still, warm air; and in the bee-gardens there -is the unwonted, old-remembered symphony, prophetic of the coming -summer days.</p> -<p>The shepherd, the bee-man, the woodlander—these three -live in the focus of the seasons, and feel their changes long -before any other class of country folk. But the bee-man, if -he would prosper, must take <a name="page121"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 121</span>the sun as his veritable daily guide -from year’s end to year’s end. Those whose -conception of a bee-keeper is mainly of one who looks on from his -cottage door while his winged thousands work for him, and who has -but to stretch out his hand once a year to gather the hoard he -has had no part in winning, know little of modern -beemanship. This would be almost literally true of the old -skeppist days, when bees were left much to their own devices, and -thirty pounds of indifferent honey was reckoned a good take from -a populous hive. But the modern movable comb-frame has -altered all that. Now ninety or a hundred pounds weight of -honey per hive is expected, with ordinarily good seasons, on a -well-managed bee-farm; and in exceptional honey-flows very strong -stocks of bees have been known to double and even treble that -amount.</p> -<p>The movable comb-frame has three prime uses. The hives -can be opened at any time and their condition ascertained without -having to wait for outside indications. Brood-combs, with -the young bees all ready to hatch out, can be taken from strong -colonies and given to weak ones, and thus the population of all -stocks may be equalised. The filled honeycombs can be -removed, emptied by the centrifugal extractor, and the combs -returned to the hive ready for another charge; and so the most -onerous and exacting labour of the hive, comb-building, is -largely obviated.</p> -<p>The modern beehive has another great advantage over the old -straw skep, in that its size can be regulated according to the -needs of each colony. More combs can be added as the stock grows, -and thus no limit is set to its capacity. With the <a -name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>ancient -form of hive fifteen or twenty thousand bees meant a crowded -citadel, and there was nothing for it but to relieve the -congestion by swarming. But the swarming habit has always -been the principal obstacle to large honey-takes; and the problem -which the modern bee-keeper has to solve is how to prevent his -stocks from thus breaking themselves up into several hopelessly -weak detachments.</p> -<p>It is all a war of wits between the bees and their -masters. In nature the honey-bee is possessed of an -inveterate caution. Famine is especially dreaded, and the -number of mouths to fill in a hive is always kept strictly to the -limits of the incoming food-supply. Thus a natural -bee-colony is seldom ready for the honey-flow when it begins in -early April, because it is only then that the raising of the -young brood is allowed its fullest scope. This, however, is -of no importance as far as the bees themselves are concerned, for -a balance of stores of about twenty pounds weight at the end of a -season will safely carry the most populous colony through any -ordinary winter.</p> -<p>But from the bee-master’s point of view it means -practically a lost harvest. All the arts and devices of the -modern bee-keeper, therefore, are set to work to overcome this -timid conservatism of the hives, and to induce the creation of -immense colonies of worker-bees as early as possible in the -season, so that there may be no lack of labourers when the -harvest is ready.</p> -<p>These first warm days of March, that bring the elm-blossom, -and the cry of the lambs, and the old sweet music of the -bee-gardens together, really <a name="page123"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 123</span>form the most critical time of all -for the apiarist who depends on his honey for his -bread-and-butter. It is the natural beginning of the -bee-year, and on his skill as a craftsman from now onward all -chance of a prosperous season will rest. It is true that, -within the hive, the bees have been awake and stirring for a long -time past. Ever since the “turn of the days,” -just before Christmas, the queen-mother has been busy; and now -there are young bees, little grey fluffy creatures, everywhere in -the throng; and the area of sealed brood-cells is steadily -growing. But it is only now that the world out-of-doors -becomes of any interest to the bees.</p> -<p>This is the time when the scientific bee-man must get to -work. His whole policy is one of benevolent fraud. He -knows that the population in his hives will not be allowed to -increase until there is a steady, assured income of nectar and -pollen. He cannot create an early flower-crop, but he does -almost the same thing. Every hive is supplied with a -feeding-stage, where cane-sugar syrup, of nearly the same -consistency as the natural flower-secretion, is administered -constantly; and he places trays full of pea-flour at different -stations amongst his hives, as a substitute for pollen. -There is a special art in the administration of this -sugar-syrup. One might think that if the bees required -feeding at all, the more they were given the better they would -thrive. But experience is all against this notion. -The artificial food is given, not to replenish an exhausted -larder, but to simulate a natural new supply. This, in the -ordinary state of things, would begin in about a month’s -time, coming at first scantily, and gradually increasing. -By syrup-feeding early in March, the <a name="page124"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 124</span>bee-master sets the clock of the -year forward by many weeks. He imitates nature by arranging -his feeding-stages so that the supply of syrup can be limited to -the actual day-to-day wants of the colony, allowing the bees -freer access to the syrup-bottles from time to time as their -numbers augment.</p> -<p>If this is adroitly done, the effect on the colony is -remarkable. The little company of bees whose part it is to -direct the actions of the queen-mother, seeing what is apparently -the natural fresh supply of food coming in, in daily increasing -quantities, at length cast their hereditary reserve aside, and -allow the queen fullest scope for egg-laying. The result is -that by the time the real honey-flow commences the population of -each hive is double what it would be if it had been left to its -own resources, and the honey-yield is more than proportionately -great. It is well know among bee-men that a hive -containing, say, forty thousand workers will produce very much -more honey than two hives together numbering twenty thousand -each.</p> -<p>There is another vital consideration in this work of early -stimulation of the hives, which the capable bee-master will never -neglect. When the natural honey-glut is on, the whole hive -reeks with the odours given off from the evaporating -nectar. The raw material, as gathered from the flowers, -must be reduced by the heat of the hive and other agencies to -about one-quarter of its original bulk before it is changed into -mature honey. The artificial food given to the bees will, -of course, have none of this scent, and the old honey-stores in -the hive are hermetically sealed under their waxen -cappings. To complete the deception which has been so -elaborately <a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -125</span>contrived, the bee-master must furnish his hives with a -new atmosphere. This he does by slicing off the cappings -from some of the old store-combs, thus letting out their -imprisoned fragrance, and filling the hive at once with the very -essence of the clover-fields where the bees worked in the bygone -summer days. The smell of the honey at this time, combined -with the regular and increasing supply of syrup, acts like a -powerful stimulant on the whole stock, and the work of -brood-raising goes rapidly forward.</p> -<p>In intensive culture of all kinds there are risks to be run -peculiar to the artificial state of things engendered, and modern -bee-breeding is no exception to the rule. When once this -fictile prosperity is installed by the bee-master, no lapse or -variation in the due amount of food must occur. Even a -single day’s remission of supplies may undo all that a -month’s careful manipulation has brought about. -English bees understand their native climate only too well, and -the bitter experience of former years has taught them to be -prepared for a return of hard weather at any moment. Under -natural conditions, if a few weeks’ warmth has induced them -to raise population, and a sudden return of cold ensues, the bees -will take very prompt and stern measures to meet the threatening -calamity of starvation. The queen will cease laying at -once; all unhatched brood will be ruthlessly torn from its -cradle-cells and destroyed; old, useless bees will be expelled -from the colony. And this is exactly what will happen if -the artificial food-supply is allowed to fail even for the -shortest period.</p> -<h2><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -126</span>CHAPTER XVII<br /> -THE HONEY THIEVES</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Where</span> the bee-garden lay, under its -sheltering crest of pine-wood, the April sunbeams seemed to -gather, as water gathers in the lap of enclosing hills. Out -in the lane the sweet hot wind sang in the hedgerows, and the -white dust lifted under every footfall and went bowling merrily -away on the breeze. But once among the crowding hives, you -were launched on a still calm lake of sunshine, where the -daffodils hardly swayed on their slender stems; and the smoke -from the bee-master’s pipe, as he came down the red-tiled -path, hung in the air behind him like blue gossamer spread to -catch the flying bees.</p> -<p>As usual, the old bee-man had an unexpected answer ready to -the most obvious question.</p> -<p>“When will the new honey begin to come in?” he -said, repeating my inquiry. “Well, the truth is honey -never comes into the hives at all; it only goes out. -That’s the old mistake people are always falling -into. Good bees never gather honey: they leave that to the -wicked ones. If I had a hive of bees that took to -honey-gathering, I should have to <a name="page127"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 127</span>stop them, or end them -altogether. It would have to be either kill or -cure.”</p> -<p>He took a quiet whiff or two, enjoying the effect of this -seeming paradox, then went on to explain.</p> -<p>“What the bees gather from the flowers,” said he, -“is no more honey than barley and hops are beer. -Honey has to be manufactured, first in the body of the bee, and -then in the comb-cells. It must stand to brew in the heat -of the hive, just as the wort stands in the gyle-tun; and when it -is ready to be bunged down, before the bee adds the last little -plate of wax to the cell-capping, she turns herself about and, as -I believe, injects a drop of the poison from her sting—or -seems to do so. Then it is real honey, but not -before. Now, about these bad bees, the -honey-gatherers—”</p> -<p>He stopped, putting his hand suddenly to his face. A bee -had unexpectedly fastened her sting into his cheek. At the -same moment another came at me like a spent shot from a gun, and -struck home on my own face. The old bee-man took a hurried -survey of his hives.</p> -<p>“Why,” said he, “as luck, or ill-luck, will -have it, I think I can show you the honey-gatherers at work -now. There’s only one thing that would make my bees -wild on such a morning as this; and we must find out where the -trouble is, and stop it.”</p> -<p>He was looking about him in every direction as he spoke; and -at last, on the farther side of the bee-garden, seemed to make -out something amiss. As we passed between the long rows of -bee-dwellings every hive was the centre of its own thronging busy -life. From each there was a steady stream of foragers -setting outward into the brilliant <a name="page128"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 128</span>sunshine, and as constant a current -homeward, as the bees returned heavily weighed down under loads -of golden pollen from the willows by the neighbouring -riverside. But round the hive, near which the bee-master -presently came to a halt, there was a very different scene -enacting. The deep, rich note of labour was replaced by an -angry hubbub of war. The alighting-board of the hive was -covered with fighting bees; company launched against company; -single combats to the death; writhing masses of bees locked -together and tumbling furiously to the ground in every -direction. The soil about the hive was already thickly -strewn with the dead and dying: and the air, for yards round, was -filled with the piercing note of the fray. It seemed as -hopeless to attempt to stop the carnage as it was manifestly -perilous to go near.</p> -<p>But the bee-master had his own short way with this, as with -most other difficulties. He took up a big watering-can and -filled it hastily from the butt close by.</p> -<p>“This hive is a weak stock,” he explained, -“and it is being robbed by one of the stronger ones. -That is always the danger in spring. We must try to drive -the robbers home, and only one thing will do it. That is, a -heavy rainstorm; and as there is no chance of getting the real -thing, we must make one for ourselves.”</p> -<p>He strode into the thick of the flying bees, and raising the -can above his head, sent a steady cascade of water over the whole -hive. The effect was instantaneous. The fighting -ceased at once. The marauding bees rose on the wing and -streamed away homeward. Those belonging to the attacked <a -name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 129</span>hive -scrambled into its friendly shelter, a bedraggled, sodden -crew. When at length all was quiet, the old bee-man fetched -an armful of hay and heaped it up before the hive, completely -covering its entire front.</p> -<p>“If the robbers come back,” said he, “that -will stop them going in, while the bees inside can crawl to and -fro if they wish. But at sunset we must do away with the -stock altogether by uniting it to another colony, and so put -temptation out of the robbers’ way. And now we must -go and look for the robbers’ den.”</p> -<p>He refilled his pipe, and led the way down the long -thoroughfare of the bee-city, examining every hive in turn as he -passed.</p> -<p>“It is trouble of this kind,” he said, “that -does more than anything else to upset the instinct-theory of the -old-fashioned naturalists, at least as far as the honey-bee is -concerned. Why should a whole houseful of them suddenly -break away from their old orderly industrious habits, and take to -thieving and violence? But so it often happens. There -is character, or the want of it, among bees just as there is in -the human race. Some are gentle and others vicious; some -are hard workers early and late, and others seem to take things -easily, or to be subject to unaccountable moods and -caprices. Then the weather has an extraordinary influence -on the temper of most hives. On sunny, calm days, when the -glass is ‘set fair,’ and the clover in full bloom, -the bees will take no notice of any interference. The hives -can be opened and manipulated without the slightest fear of a -sting. But if the glass is falling, or the wind rising and -backing, the <a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -130</span>bees will be often as spiteful as cats, and as timid as -squirrels. And there are times, just before a storm, when -to touch some hives would mean bringing the whole population out -upon you like a nest of hornets.”</p> -<p>He stopped by one of the hives, and laid his great sunburnt -hand down flat on the entrance-board. The bees took no -account of the obstacle, but ran to and fro over his fingers with -perfect unconcern.</p> -<p>“And yet,” said he, “there are bees that -follow none of these general rules. Here is a stock which -it is almost impossible to ruffle. You may turn their home -inside out, and they will go on working just as if nothing had -happened. They are famous honey-makers, while they keep to -it; but, like all mild-tempered bees, they are too fond of -swarming, and have to be put back into the hive two or three -times before they settle down to the season’s -work.”</p> -<p>As he talked, he was looking about him carefully, and at last -made a short cut towards a hive standing a little apart from the -rest. The bees of this hive were behaving in a very -different fashion from those we had just inspected. They -were running about the flight-board in an agitated way, and the -whole hive gave out a note of deep unrest. The old bee-man -puffed his “smoker” up into full draught, and set to -work to open the hive.</p> -<p>“These are the honey thieves,” he said, as he -pulled off the coverings of the hive and laid bare its rumbling, -seething interior to the searching sunlight, “and when once -bees have taken to robbing their neighbours there is only one way -to cure them. You must exterminate the whole brood. -In the old <a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -131</span>days, a stock of bees with confirmed bad habits would -be taken to the sulphur-pit and settled at once for good and -all. But modern bee-keepers have a better and less wasteful -way. Now, look out for the queen!”</p> -<p>He was lifting out the comb-frames one by one, and subjecting -them to a close examination. At last, on one of the most -crowded frames, he spied the huge full-bodied queen, and lifted -her off by the wings. Then he closed the hive up again as -expeditiously as possible.</p> -<p>“Now,” said he, as he ground the discredited -monarch under his heel, “we have stopped the mischief at -the fountain-head. Of course, if we left the bees to raise -another queen for themselves, she would be of the same blood as -the first one, and her children would inherit the same -undesirable traits. But to-morrow, when the bees are -thoroughly sobered and frightened at the loss of their ruler, we -will give them another full-grown fertile queen of the best blood -in the apiary. In three weeks’ time the new -population will begin to take over the citadel; and in a month or -two all the old bees will have died off, and with them the last -of the robber taint.”</p> -<h2><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -132</span>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> -THE STORY OF THE SWARM</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> professional breeders of the -honey-bee have succeeded in producing the much-desired -non-swarming race, and swarming has become a thing of the past, -naturalists of the old “instinct” school will be able -to turn their backs on at least one very inconvenient -question.</p> -<p>There is no denying that the breeders are theoretically right -in their present efforts. The swarming-habit in the -honey-bee is admittedly the main obstacle to large honey-takes; -and now that two of the principal objects of swarming—the -multiplication of stocks and renewal of queens—are fairly -well understood, and can be artificially effected, there is no -doubt that the universal adoption of a non-swarming strain -throughout the bee-farms of the country, if such a thing were -possible, would result in a very greatly increased honey-yield, -and the people would get cheap honey. But at present it is -not easy to see that any progress whatever in this direction has -been made. The bees continue to swarm, in spite of -beautifully adjusted theories; and the old attempt to fit the -square peg of instinct <a name="page133"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 133</span>into the round hole of fact goes on -as merrily as ever.</p> -<p>Students of bee-life, approaching the matter unencumbered by -ancient postulates, find themselves face to face with many -surprising things, which would seem unexplainable on any other -hypothesis than that the bees are endowed with reason, and that -of no mean order.</p> -<p>Instinct implies invariability, a dead perfection of motive -working blindly against all odds of circumstance, and always -succeeding in the main. But the very essence of reason, -humanly speaking, is its imperfection and continual deviation -both in motive and performance. Watching a swarm of bees -from the moment of its issue from the hive, the first thing that -strikes the unacademic observer is that most of the bees seem to -have no notion at all as to what the furore is about. They -are by no means the obedient items of a common inexorable -purpose. They are more like a crowd of people running in a -street, all agog with excitement and curiosity, but not one of -them knowing the cause of the general stampede. Sometimes a -stock of bees will give visible sign of the approach of a -swarming-fit for several days before the swarm actually -issues. But, as often as not, no such manifestation is -given. The hive, at least to the unexpert eye, seems in its -normal condition right up to the moment when the great emigration -takes place. And then, as at a given signal, the work -suddenly stops, and the bees pour out of the hive-entrance in a -living stream, darkening the air for many yards round, the cloud -of darting bees rising higher and higher, and spreading over a -greater space with every <a name="page134"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 134</span>moment. The swarm may take -three or four minutes to get fairly on the wing; and, from a -populous hive, may number twenty-five or thirty thousand -individuals.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p134.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“Hiving a swarm”" -title= -"“Hiving a swarm”" - src="images/p134.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>There is seldom any fear of stings at such a time, and this -extraordinary phase of bee-life may usually be studied at close -quarters. One of the most puzzling things about it is that, -however large the swarm proves to be, enough workers and drones -are still left behind in the old hive to carry on the work of the -stock. When the order for the sally is given, and a -feverish excitement spreads at once throughout the hive, those -bees chosen to remain in the old dwelling are perfectly unmoved -by the general mad spirit. Directly the last of the -trekking-party has gone off, the home-bees set diligently and -quietly to work as if nothing had happened. With the whole -garden alive with flashing wings, and resounding with the rich -deep hubbub of the swarm, the bees forming the remnant of the old -colony go about their usual business in perfect unconcern, -lancing straight off into the sunshine towards the clover-fields, -or winging busily homeward laden with honey and pollen, just as -they have been doing for weeks past. And if the hive be -opened at this time, it will show nothing unusual except that no -queen will be found. There will be three or four -queen-cells like elongated acorns hanging from the edges of the -central combs; and the first queen to hatch out, and prove -herself happily mated, will be allowed to destroy all the -others. For the rest, work seems to be going on in a -perfectly normal way. The nectar and pollen are being -stored in the cells; the young grubs are <a -name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 135</span>being fed; -most of the combs are fairly well covered with their busy -population, consisting principally of young bees, although a fair -sprinkling of mature workers and drones is everywhere -visible. In eight or ten days the new queen will be laying -and the colony rapidly regaining its former strength.</p> -<p>Meanwhile, the swarm is still in the air, every bee careering -hither and thither with no other apparent purpose than that of -allowing full vent to the mad excitement which has so -mysteriously seized upon it. This state will often last a -considerable time, and, in rare cases, will end by the bees -trooping soberly back to the hive under just as mysterious a -revulsion of feeling and resuming their old steady work. At -other times the cloud of bees will suddenly rise high into the -air and go straight off across country, disappearing in a few -moments from the keenest view. But generally, after a short -spell of this berserk frolic, the swarm seems gradually to unite -under common direction. The dark network of flying bees -overhead shrinks and grows denser. At last you make out the -beginnings of the cluster—a mere handful of bees clinging -to a branch in a tree or bush. The handful swells at a -wonderful pace as the bees crowd towards it from all -quarters. In three or four minutes the whole multitude is -locked together in a solid pendent mass, and the wild song of -freedom has died down to a few stray intermittent notes.</p> -<p>This silence, following the shrill, abounding turmoil, has an -almost uncanny effect. It seems so utterly opposed to, and -incongruous with, the mad state of things that existed before; -and it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the bees have -weakly <a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -136</span>given way to an incontrollable impulse against all -their principles and inherited traditions of right, and that now, -hanging thoroughly sobered and shamed and disillusioned, homeless -and beggared, they realise themselves face to face with the -unforeseen consequences of their thoughtless act. It is -just the conduct which might be expected of some savage human -race, pent up for long years in the rigid bounds of an alien -civilisation, which in one blind moment has thrown to the four -winds all its irksome blessings, only to realise, when the first -glowing hour of freedom is over, that their long captivity has -made the old wild life no longer possible in fact. Some -such period of deep despondency as has come to the silent swarm -in the hedgerow can be imagined as inevitably falling on such a -race of men. But if the conquerors were to follow the -absconding tribe into the lean wilderness and bring them home -again repentant, restoring them to their old shelter and plenty -once more, probably they would vent their satisfaction in a -chorus of joyful approval. And it is just this which seems -to be happening when the swarm is shaken down in front of a new, -well-furnished hive. The first bees that find their way -into the cool dark interior set up a jubilant hum unlike any -other sound known in beecraft. At once the strain is taken -up by all the rest, and the whole multitude marches into the new -home to a tune which the least fanciful must concede is nothing -but sheer satisfaction melodised.</p> -<p>There is little in all this which suggests a race of creatures -bound within the hard and fast laws of an implanted instinct, -which it is neither in their power nor their pleasure to -override. It is true that in the <a -name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>natural -life of the honey-bee this annually recurrent impulse of swarming -serves several necessary ends; but the utilitarian argument, -however stretched, cannot be made to explain the whole -fact. There is unmistakably an element of caprice about -it—a kicking over the traces—which would be natural -enough in creatures possessed of reason, but totally -inconceivable from any other point of view. And the farther -we look into the whole problem the more perplexing it -seems. If we grant that the issue of a swarm, from a hive -overcrowded and headed by a queen past her prime, is a necessity, -why is it that the same hive will often swarm a second and even a -third time until the stock is practically extinguished and the -original object of swarming wholly defeated? Or if, under -the same conditions, a hive prepares to swarm and cold windy -weather intervenes, how is it that frequently all idea of -swarming is abandoned for the season, although apparently the -necessity for it continues to exist?</p> -<p>Creatures which pursue a certain line of conduct under the -blind promptings of instinct could hardly be credited with -intelligence enough to lead them to seek another means for the -desired end when the preordained means has failed. But this -is just what the honey-bee appears to do in at least one -instance. If the mother-bee of a colony is getting past her -work, and she cannot be sent off with a swarm in the usual way, -the bees will supersede her. They will deliberately put her -to death, and raise another queen to take her place. This -State execution of the old worn-out queens is one of the most -curious and pathetic things in or out of bee-life. One -probe with a sting would suffice in the matter; but the <a -name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>honey-bee -is a great stickler for the proprieties. The royal victim -must be allowed to meet her fate in a royal way; and she is -killed by caresses, tight-locked in the joint embrace of the -executioners until suffocation brings about her death.</p> -<h2><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -139</span>CHAPTER XIX<br /> -THE MIND IN THE HIVE</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Students</span> of the ways of the -honey-bee find many things to marvel at, but little to excite -their wonder more than the unique system of ventilation -established in the hive.</p> -<p>Under natural conditions it is a moot point whether bees -concern themselves at all with the ventilation of their -nests. Wild bees usually fix upon a site for their dwelling -where there is ample space for all possible developments; and the -ventilation of the home—as with most human -tenements—is left pretty much to chance causes. At -least, in the course of many years’ observation, the writer -has never seen the fanners at work in the entrance of a natural -bee-settlement.</p> -<p>Probably this remarkable fanning system originated in a new -want felt by the bees, when, in remote ages, their domestication -began, and they found themselves cooped up in impervious hives -which, in their very earliest form, were possibly roughly-plaited -baskets, daubed over with clay, or earthen pots baked dry in the -sun. This form, originally adopted by the bee-keeper as a -protection <a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -140</span>against honey-thieves of all sorts, as well as against -the weather, brought about a new order of things in -bee-life. The free circulation of air which would obtain -when the bee-colony was established naturally in a cleft of a -rock or in a hollow tree became no longer possible. And -so—as they have been proved to have done in many modern -instances—the bees set to work to evolve new methods to -meet new necessities, and the present ventilation-system -gradually became an established habit of the race.</p> -<p>Watching a hive of bees on any hot summer’s day, one -very curious, not to say startling, fact must strike the most -superficial observer. If the fanning bees were stationed -round the flight-hole in a merely casual, irregular way, their -obvious employment would be surprising enough. But it is at -once seen that each fanner forms part in an ingenious and -carefully thought-out plan. Outwardly, the fanners are -arranged in regular rows, one behind the other, all with their -heads pointed towards the hive, and all working their wings so -fast that their incessant movement becomes nearly -invisible. These rows of bees extend sometimes for several -inches over the alighting-board, and on very hot days there may -be as many as seven or eight ranks. The ventilating army -never covers the whole available space. It is always at one -side or the other; or, where the entrance is a wide one, it may -be divided into two wings, leaving a centre space free. The -fanning bees, moreover, do not keep close together, but stand in -open order, so that the continual coming and going of the -nectar-gatherers is in no wise impeded. There is a <a -name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>constant -flow of worker-bees through the ranks in both directions; yet the -fanning goes on uninterruptedly, and, under certain conditions, -the current of air thus set up may be strong enough to blow out -the flame of a candle held at the edge of the flight-board.</p> -<p>In all study of the ways of the honey-bee, the safer plan is -to begin with the assumption that a reasoning creature is under -observation, and then to work back to the surer, well-beaten -tracks of thought concerning the lower creation—that is, if -the observed facts warrant it. But this question of the -ventilation of the modern beehive—only one of many other -problems equally astounding—helps the orthodox naturalist -of the old school very little on his comfortable way. We -know that the wild bee generally chooses a situation for her nest -which is neither cramped nor confined, but has in most cases -ample space available for the future growth of the colony. -Security from storm or flood seems to be the first -consideration. The fact that the interior of a bee-nest is -more or less in darkness appears to be mainly accidental. -Bees have no particular liking for absolute darkness, nor, in -fact, is any hive perfectly free from light. Experiment -will prove that a very small aperture is sufficient to admit a -considerable amount of reflected and diffused light, quite enough -for the needs of the hive. It may be supposed, therefore, -that the bees would have no objection to building in broad -daylight, or even sunlight, if, in conjunction with the first -necessities of shelter, security, and equable temperature, such a -location were easily obtainable under natural conditions. -It would only be another instance of <a name="page142"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 142</span>their unique adaptability to -circumstances forced upon them.</p> -<p>In the matter of ventilation, however, they seem to make a -very determined and highly successful stand against imposed -conditions. Bee-keeping cannot be made a profitable -occupation unless the work of the bees is kept strictly within -certain sharply-defined limits, and probably the modern movable -comb hive is the best means to this end. That it leaves the -necessity of ventilation wholly unprovided for is not the fault -of the bee-master, but of the bees themselves. They refuse -pointblank to have anything to do with human notions of -hygiene. Many devices have been tried, in the form of -vent-shafts and the like, to carry off the vitiated air of the -hive, but all have failed, because the bees insist on stopping up -every crack or crevice left in walls, roof, or floor. For -some inscrutable reason they will have only the one opening, -which must serve for all purposes, and the hive-maker has had to -learn by hard-won experience that the bees are right.</p> -<p>Perhaps, in any attempt to follow the reasoning of the bees in -this matter, it is well first of all to get rid of the word -“fanning” altogether. The wing-action of the -ventilating bees is more that of a screw-propeller than a -fan. The air is not beaten to and fro, as a fan would beat -it, but is driven backwards, and thus the ventilating squadron on -the flight-board really sets up an exhaust-current, which draws -the contaminated air out of the hive. This implies an -equally strong current of fresh air passing into the hive, and -explains why the bees work at the side of the entrance only, the -central, <a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -143</span>unoccupied space being obviously the course of the -intake. Thus the bees’ system of ventilation can be -described as a swiftly-flowing loop of air, having both -extremities outside the hive, much as a rope moves over a pulley, -and it can be readily understood that any supplementary inlet or -outlet—such as the bee-master would instal, if he were -permitted—would be rather a hindrance to the system than a -help. Probably the actual main current keeps to the walls -of the hive throughout, the ventilation between the brood-combs -being more slowly effected. This would fulfil a double -purpose. The air supplied to the central portion, or -brood-nest proper, would be thoroughly warmed before it reached -the young larva, while the outer and upper combs, where the -stores of new honey are maturing, would lie in the full -stream.</p> -<p>It must be remembered that a constant supply of fresh air of -the right temperature is as necessary for the brewing honey as it -is for the bees and young brood. The nectar, as gathered -from the flowers, needs to be deprived of the greater part of its -moisture before it becomes honey. Thus, in the course of -the season, many gallons of water must pass out of the hive in -the form of vapour, and the removal of this water constitutes an -important part of the work of the ventilating army. Here, -again, the wisdom of the bees in insisting on a mechanical, as -opposed to an automatic, system of air-renewal, becomes -evident. If the warm, moisture-laden air were left to -discharge itself from the hive by its own buoyancy, condensation -of this moisture would take place on the cooler surfaces of the -hive-walls, and the lower regions of the hive would speedily <a -name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>become a -quagmire. But by setting up a mechanically-driven current -the air is drawn out before condensation can take place, and -thus, in one operation, forming a veritable triumph in economics, -the hive interior is rendered both dry and salutary, while its -temperature is sustained at the necessary hatching-point for the -young brood.</p> -<p>A reflection which will occur to most thinking minds is, why -should the domesticated honey-bee be constrained to resort to all -these devices, when the wild bee seems to lead a happy-go-lucky -existence, comparatively free, so far as we know, from such -complicated cares? The answer to this is that the science -of apiculture has wrought a change in the bees’ normal -environment which is probably without parallel in the whole -history of the domestication of the lower creatures. In a -modern hive the honey-bee lives on a vastly elaborated scale, and -the ancient rules of bee-life are no longer applicable. -Much the same sort of thing has happened as in the case of a -village which has grown to a city. It is useless to deal -with the new order of things as a mere question of -arithmetic. Abnormal growth in a community involves change -not only in scale but in principle; and it is the same with a -hive of bees as with a hive of men.</p> -<h2><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -145</span>CHAPTER XX<br /> -THE KING’S BEE-MASTER</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Students</span> of old books on the -honey-bee—and perhaps there has been more written about -bees during the last two thousand years than of all other -creatures put together—do not quite know what to make of -Moses Rusden, who was Charles the Second’s bee-master, and -wrote his “Further Discovery of Bees” in the year -1679. The wonder about Rusden is that obviously he knew so -much that was true about bee-life, and yet seems, of set purpose, -to have imparted so little. He was a shrewdly observant -man, of lifelong experience in his craft. His system of -bee-keeping would not have disgraced many an apiculturist of the -present time, often yielding him a honey harvest averaging sixty -pounds to the hive, which is a result not always achieved even by -our foremost apiarian scientists. His hives were fitted -with glass windows, through which he was continually studying his -bees. He must have had endless opportunities of proving the -fallacy and folly of the ancient classic notions as to -bee-life. And yet we find him <a name="page146"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 146</span>gravely upholding almost the entire -framework of fantastic error, old even in Pliny’s time; and -speaking of the king-bee with his generals, captains, and -retinue, honey that was a dew divinely sent down from heaven, the -miraculous propagation of bee-kind from the flowers, and all the -other curious myths and fables handed down from writer to writer -since the very earliest days.</p> -<p>But, reading on in the little time-stained, worm-eaten book, -it is not very difficult to guess at last why Rusden adopted this -attitude. He was the King’s bee-master, and therefore -a courtier first and a naturalist afterwards. In the first -flush of the Restoration, anyone who had anything to say in -support of the divine right of kings was certain to catch the -Royal eye. Rusden admits himself conversant with -Butler’s “Feminine Monarchie,” published some -fifty years before, in which the writer argues that the single -great bee in a hive was really a female. To a man of -Rusden’s practical experience and deductive quality of -mind, this statement must have lead, and no doubt did lead, to -all sorts of speculations and discoveries. But with a ruler -of Charles the Second’s temperament, feminine monarchies -were not to be thought of. Rusden saw at once his -restrictions and his peculiar opportunity, and wrote his book on -bees, which is really an ingenious attempt to show that the -system of a self-ruling commonwealth is a violation of nature, -and that, whether for bees or men, government under a king is the -divinely ordained state.</p> -<p>Whether, however, Rusden was deliberately insincere, or -actually succeeded in blinding himself <a -name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -147</span>conveniently for his own purposes, it must be admitted -not only that he argued the case with singular adroitness, but -that never did facts adapt themselves so readily to either -conscious or unconscious misrepresentation. In the -glass-windowed hives of the Royal bee-house at Saint -James’s, he was able to show the King a nation of creatures -evidently united under a common rule, labouring together in -harmony and producing works little short of miraculous to the -mediæval eye. He saw that these creatures were of two -sorts, each going about its duty after its kind, but that in each -colony there was one bee, and only one, which differed entirely -from the rest. To this single large bee all the others paid -the greatest deference. It was cared for and nourished, and -attended assiduously in its progress over the combs. All -the humanly approved tokens of royalty were manifest about -it. No wonder the King’s bee-master was not slow in -recognising that, in those troublous times, he could do his -patron no greater service than by pointing out to the -superstitious and ignorant multitude—still looking askance -at the restored monarchy—such indisputable evidence in -nature of Charles’s parallel right.</p> -<p>And perhaps nature has never been at such pains to conceal her -true processes from the vulgar eye as in this case of the -honey-bee. If Rusden ever suspected that the one large bee -in each colony was really the mother of all the rest, and had set -himself to prove it, he would have found the whole array of -visible facts in opposition to him. If ever a truth seemed -established beyond all reasonable doubt, it <a -name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>was that -the ordinary male-and-female principle, pertaining throughout the -rest of creation, was abrogated in the single instance of the -honey-bee. The ancients explained this anomaly as a special -gift from the gods, and the bees were supposed to discover the -germs of bee-life in certain kinds of flowers and to bring them -home to the cells for development. Rusden improved upon -this idea by assigning to his king-bee the duty of fertilising -these embryos when they were placed in the cells, for he could -not otherwise explain a fact of which he was perfectly well -aware—that the large bee travelled the combs unceasingly, -thrusting its body into each cell in turn. Rusden also held -that the worker-bees were females, but only—as Freemasons -would say—in a speculative manner. They neither laid -eggs nor bore young. Their maternal duties consisted only -in gathering the essence of bee-life from the blossoms and -nursing and tending the young bees when they emerged from their -cradle-cells. The drones were a great difficulty to -Rusden. To admit them to be males—as some held even -in his day—would have been against the declared object of -his book, as tending to entrench upon royal prerogatives. -Luckily, this truth was as easy of apparent refutation as all the -rest. No one had ever detected any traffic of the sexes -amongst bees either in or out of the hives; nor, indeed, is such -detection possible. The fact that the queen-bee has -concourse with the drone only once in her whole life, and that -their meeting takes place in the upper air far out of reach of -human observation, is knowledge only of yesterday. In -Rusden’s time such a <a name="page149"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 149</span>marvel was never even -suspected. As the drones, therefore, were never seen to -approach the worker bees or to notice them in any way, and as -also young bees were bred in the hives during many months when no -drones existed at all, Rusden’s ingenuity was equal to the -task of bringing them into line with his theory.</p> -<p>If he had lived a few decades earlier, and it had been -Cromwell, instead of the heartless, middle-aged rake of a -sovereign, whom he had to propitiate, no doubt Rusden would have -asked his public to swallow Pliny’s whole apiarian -philosophy at a gulp. Bee-life would then have been held up -as a foreshadowing of celestial conditions, and the facts would -have lent themselves to this view equally as well. But his -task was to represent the economy of the hive as a clear proof of -divine authority in kingship, and it must be conceded that, as -far as knowledge went in those days, he established his case.</p> -<p>His book was published under the ægis of the Royal -Society, and “by his Majestie’s especial -Command,” which was less a testimony of the King’s -love for natural history than of his political astuteness. -Apart, however, from its peculiar mission, the book is -interesting as a sidelight on the old bee-masters and their -ways. Probably it represents very fairly the extent of -knowledge at the time, which had evidently advanced very little -since the days of Virgil. Rusden taught, with the ancients, -that honey was a secretion from the stars, and that wax was -gathered from the flowers, as well as the generative matter -before mentioned. He had <a name="page150"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 150</span>one theory which seems to have been -essentially his own. The little lumps of many-coloured -pollen, which the worker-bees fetch home so industriously in the -breeding season, he held to be the actual substance of the young -bees to come, in an elementary state. These, he tells us, -were placed in the cells, having absorbed the feminine virtues -from their bearers on the way. The king-bee then visited -each in turn, vivifying them with his essence, after which they -had nothing to do but grow into perfect bees. He got over -the difficulty of the varying sexes of the bees bred in a hive by -asserting that these lumps of animable matter were created in the -flowers, either female, or neuter—as he called the -drones—or royal, as the case might be. Having denied -the drones any part in the production of their species, or in -furnishing the needs of the hive, Rusden was hard put to it to -find a use for them in a system where it would have been -<i>lèse-majesté</i> to suppose anything superfluous -or amiss. He therefore hits upon an idea which, curiously -enough, embodies matter still under dispute at the present time, -although it is being slowly recognised as a truth. Rusden -says the use of the drones is to take the place of the other bees -in the hive when these are mostly away honey-gathering. -Their great bodies act as so many warming stoves, supplying the -necessary heat to the hatching embryos and the maturing stores of -honey. It is well known that drones gather together side by -side, principally in the remoter parts of the hive, often -completely covering these outer combs. They seldom rouse -from their lethargy of repletion to <a name="page151"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 151</span>take their daily flight until about -midday, when most of the ingathering work is over, and the hive -is again fairly populous with worker-bees. Probably, -therefore, Rusden was quite right in his theory, which, hundreds -of years after, is only just beginning to be accepted as a -fact.</p> -<h2><a name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -152</span>CHAPTER XXI<br /> -POLLEN AND THE BEE</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Popular</span> beliefs as to the ways of -the honey-bee, unlike those relating to many other insects, are -surprisingly accurate, so far as they go. But, dealing with -such a complex thing as hive-life, it is well-nigh impossible to -have understanding on any single point without going very much -farther than the ordinary tabloid-method of knowledge can carry -us. This is especially true with regard to pollen, and the -uses to which it is put within the hive. The hand-books on -bee-keeping usually tell us that pollen is employed with honey as -food for the young bees when in the larval state; but this is so -wide a generalisation that it amounts to almost positive -error.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p152.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“A rarity in hive life: a honeycomb built upward”" -title= -"“A rarity in hive life: a honeycomb built upward”" - src="images/p152.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>As a matter of fact, the pollen in its raw condition is given -only to the drone-larva, and this only towards the end of its -life as a grub. For the first three days of the -drone-larva’s existence, and in the case of the young -worker-bee for the whole five days of the larval period, the -pollen is administered by the nurse-bees in a pre-digested -state. After partial assimilation, both the pollen and the -nectar are regurgitated by these nurse-bees, <a -name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>and form -together a pearly-white fluid—veritable bee-milk—on -which the young grubs thrive in an extraordinary way.</p> -<p>There are few things more fascinating than to watch a hive of -bees at work on a fine June morning, and to note how the pollen -is carried in. With a prosperous stock, thousands of bees -must pass within the space of a few minutes, each bee dragging -behind her a double load of this substance. Very often, in -addition to the half-globes of pollen which she carries on her -thighs, the bee will be smothered in it from head to foot, as in -gold-dust. If you track her into the hive, one curious -point will be noted. No matter how fast she may go, or what -frantic spirit of labour may possess the entire colony, the -pollen-laden bee is never in a hurry to get rid of her -load. She will waste precious time wandering over the -crowded combs, continually shaking herself, as though showing off -her finery to her admiring relatives; and it may be some minutes -before she finally selects a half-filled pollen-cell and proceeds -to kick off her load. The different kinds of pollen are -packed into the cells indiscriminately, the bee using her head as -a ram to press each pellet home. When the cell is full it -is never sealed over with a waxen capping, as in the case of the -honey-stores, but is left open or covered with a thin film of -honey, apparently to preserve it from the air. The -nurse-bees, who are the young workers under a fortnight old, help -themselves from these pollen-bins. They also frequently -stop a pollen-bearer as she hurries through the crowd, and nibble -the pollen from her thighs.</p> -<p>Throughout the season there is hardly an <a -name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>imaginable -colour or shade of colour which is not represented in the pollen -carried into a beehive; and with the aid of a microscope it is -not difficult to identify the source of each kind. In May, -before the great field-crops have come into bloom, the pollen is -almost entirely gathered from wild flowers, and consists of -various rich shades of yellow and brown. By far the -heaviest burdens at this time are obtained from the -dandelion. The pollen from this flower is a peculiarly -bright orange, and is easily recognised under a strong glass by -its grains, which are in the form of regular dodecahedrons, -thickly covered all over with short spikes.</p> -<p>It is well known that the honey-bee confines herself during -each journey to one species of flower, and this is proved by the -microscope. It is not easy to intercept a homing bee laden -with pollen. On alighting before the hive she runs in so -quickly that the keenest eye and deftest hand are necessary to -effect her capture. But with the aid of a miniature -butterfly-net and a little practice it can generally be done; and -then the pellet of pollen will be found to consist almost -invariably of one kind of grain. But it is not always -so. The honey-bee, as a reasoning creature, does not and -cannot be expected to do anything invariably. Among some -hundreds of these pollen-lumps examined under the microscope I -have occasionally found grains of pollen differing from the -bulk. Perhaps there are no two species of flower which have -pollen-grains exactly alike in colour, shape, and size, and in -most the differences are very striking. In the cases -mentioned the bulk of the pollen was made up of long oval yellow -grains divided lengthwise into <a name="page155"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 155</span>three lobes or gores, which were -easily identifiable as coming from the figwort. The -isolated grains were very minute spheres thickly studded with -blunt spikes—obviously from the daisy. The figwort is -a famous source of bee-provender in spring time, and its pollen -can be seen flowing into the hives at that time in an almost -unbroken stream of brilliant chrome-yellow. The -brownish-gold masses that are also being constantly carried in -are from the willow; and where the hives are near woodlands the -bluebells yield the bees enormous quantities of pollen of a dull -yellowish white.</p> -<p>It is interesting that all these various materials, so -carefully kept asunder when gathered, are for the most part -inextricably mingled within the hive. Obviously the system -of visiting only one species of flower on each foraging journey -can have no relation to pollen-gathering; nor does it seem to -apply to the nectar obtained at the same time. It cannot be -inferred that the contents of each honey-cell are brewed from -only one source, because it has been proved that bees do blend -the various nectars together when several crops are -simultaneously in flower. A honey-judge can easily detect -the flavours of heather and white-clover in the same sample of -honey by taste alone. But there is another and much more -conclusive way of deciding the source from which a particular -sample of honey has been obtained. In the purest and most -mature honeys there are always a few accidental grains of pollen, -invisible to the eye, yet easily detected under a strong -glass. And these may be taken as almost infallible guides -to the species of flowers visited by the foraging bees. The -only explanation which <a name="page156"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 156</span>seems possible, therefore, of the -honey-bee’s care to visit only one kind of blossom on each -journey is that it is done for the sake of the plant itself, -cross-fertilisation being thus rendered extremely improbable.</p> -<p>When once the bee-man has succumbed to the fascination of the -microscope, there is very little chance that he will ever return -to his old panoramic view of things. He goes on from wonder -to wonder, and the horizon of the new world he has entered -continually broadens with each marvelling step. To the old -rule-of-thumb bee-keepers pollen was mere bee-bread; and the fact -that the bees preferred one kind to another did not greatly -concern them. But at a time when the small-holder is -beginning to feel his feet, and the question of the feasibility -of planting for bee-forage is certain to arise, it is necessary -to know why bees gather this important part of their diet from -particular kinds of flowers, while leaving severely alone others -which appear to be equally attractive. To this question the -microscope supplies a sufficient answer.</p> -<p>Chemists have determined that nectar is the heat and -force-producer in the food of the bee, while pollen supplies its -nitrogenous tissue-building qualities. It is evident that -bees select certain pollens for their superior nutritive powers, -just as in bread-making we prefer wheat to any other species of -grain. In the kinds of pollen most in favour with bees a -good microscope will reveal the fact that the pollen-grains are -often accompanied by a certain amount of true farina, as well as -essential oils, which must greatly enhance their -food-value. And in those crops generally neglected by <a -name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 157</span>bees, such -as daisies and buttercups, those accompaniments appear to be -absent. The dandelion is especially rich in a thick yellow -oil, which the bees carry away with the pollen; while two plants -in particular of which the bees are especially fond—the -crocus and the box—have a large amount of this farina -mingled with the true pollen.</p> -<p>It is only within the last century or so that the real uses of -pollen in the economy of the hive have been ascertained. -Until comparatively recent times the pollen was supposed to be -crude wax, which the bees refined and purified into the white -ductile material of the new combs; and a few old-fashioned -bee-keepers still hold this view, and refuse to believe that the -wax used in comb-building is entirely a secretion from the -bee’s own body. Pollen, indeed, seems to have very -little to do with wax, hardly any nitrogenous food being consumed -while the wax is being generated.</p> -<h2><a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -158</span>CHAPTER XXII<br /> -THE HONEY-FLOW</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">On</span> Warrilow Bee-Farm, where it lay -under the green lip of the Sussex Downs, there was always food -for wonder, whether the year was at its ebb or its flow. -But in July of a good season the busy life of the farm reached a -culminating point.</p> -<p>The ordinary man, in search of excitement, distraction, the -heady wine served out only to those who stand in the -fighting-line of the world, would hardly seek these things in a -little sleepy village sunk fathoms deep in English summer -greenery. But, nevertheless, with the coming of the great -honey-flow to Warrilow came all these subtle human -necessities. If you would keep up with the bee-master and -his men at this stirring time, you must be ready for a break-neck -gallop from dawn to dusk of the working day, and often a working -night to follow. While the honey-flow endured, muscles and -nerves were tried to their breaking-point. It was a race -between the great centrifugal honey-extractor and the toiling -millions of the hives; and time and again, in exceptionally -favourable seasons, the bees <a name="page159"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 159</span>would win; the honey-chambers would -clog with the interminable sweets, and the dreaded atrophy of -contentment would seize upon the best of the hives, with the -result that they would gather no more honey.</p> -<p>A week of hot bright days and warm still nights, with here and -there a gentle shower to hearten the fields of clover and -sainfoin; and then the fight between the bee-master and his -millions would begin in earnest. There would be no more -quiet pipes, strolling and talking among the hives: the -Bee-Master of Warrilow was a general now, with all a great -commander’s stern absorption in the conduct of a difficult -campaign. Often, with the first grey of the summer’s -morning, you would hear his footsteps on the red-tiled path of -the garden below, as he hurried off to the bee-farm, and -presently the bell in the little turret over the extracting-house -would clang out a reveille to his men, and draw them from their -beds in the neighbouring village to another day of work, perhaps -the most trying work by which men win their bread.</p> -<p>It is nothing in the ordinary way to lift a super-chamber -weighing twenty pounds or so. But to lift it by -imperceptible degrees, place an empty rack in its place, return -the full rack to the hive as an upper story, and to do it all so -quietly and gently that the bees have not realised the onslaught -on their home until the operation is complete, is quite another -thing. And a long day of this wary, delicate handling of -heavy weights, at arm’s length, under broiling sunshine, is -one of the most nerve-wearing and back-breaking experiences in -the world.</p> -<p><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 160</span>One -of the mistakes made by the unknowing in bee-craft is that the -bee-veil is never used among professional men. But the -truth is that even the oldest, most experienced hand is glad -enough, at times, to fall back behind this, his last line of -defence. All depends upon the momentary temper of the -bees. There are times when every hive on the farm is as -gentle as a flock of sheep, and it is possible to take any -liberty with them. At other times, and apparently under -much the same conditions, stocks of bees with the steadiest of -reputations will resent the slightest interference, while the -mere approach to others may mean a furious attack. No true -bee-man is afraid of the wickedest bees that ever flew, but it is -only the novice who will disdain necessary precautions. -Even the Bee-Master of Warrilow was seldom seen without a wisp of -black net round the crown of his ancient hat, ready to be let -down at a moment’s notice if the bees showed any -inclination to sting.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p160.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“The upward built comb shown joined on the downward built -comb”" -title= -"“The upward built comb shown joined on the downward built -comb”" - src="images/p160.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>In a long vista of memorable days spent at Warrilow, one -stands out clear above all the rest. It was in July of a -famous honey-year. The hay had long been carried, and the -second crops of sainfoin and Dutch clover were making their -bravest show of blossom in the fields. It was a stifling -day of naked light and heat, with a fierce wind abroad hotter -even than the sunshine. The deep blue of the sky came right -down to the earth-line. The farthest hills were hard and -bright under the universal glare. And on the bee-farm, as I -came through the gap in the dusty hedgerow, I saw that every man -had his veil close drawn down. The bee-master hailed me -from his crowded corner.</p> -<p><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -161</span>“Y’are just to the nick!” he called, -in his broadest Sussex. “’Tis stripping-day -wi’ us, an’ I can do wi’ a dozen o’ -ye! Get on your veil, d’rectly-minute, an’ wire -in t’ot!”</p> -<p>The fierce hot wind surged through the little city of hives, -scattering the bees like chaff in all directions, and rousing in -them a wild-cat fury. Overhead the sunny air was full of -bees, striving out and home; and from every hive there came a -shrill note, a tremulous, high-pitched roar of work, -half-baffled, driven through against all odds and hindrances, a -note that bore in upon you an irresistible sense of fear. I -pulled on the bee-veil without more ado.</p> -<p>“Stripping-day” was always the hardest day of the -year at Warrilow. It meant that some infallible sign of the -approaching end of the harvest had been observed, and that all -extractable honey must be immediately removed from the -hives. A change of weather was brewing, as the nearness of -the hills foretold. There might be weeks of flood and -tempest coming, when the hives could not be opened. -Overnight there had been a ringed moon, and the morning broke hot -and boisterous, with an ominous clearness everywhere. By -midday the glass was tumbling down. The bee-master took one -look at it, then called all hands together. -“Strip!” he said laconically; and all work in -extracting-house and packing-sheds was abandoned, and every man -braced himself to the job.</p> -<p>The hives were arranged in long double rows, back to back, -with a footway between wide enough to allow the passage of the -honey barrow. This was not unlike a baker’s -hand-cart, and contained <a name="page162"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 162</span>empty combs, which were to be -exchanged for the full combs from the hives. I found myself -sharing a row with the bee-master, and already infused with the -glowing, static energy for which he was renowned. The -process of stripping the hives varied little with each colony, -but the bees themselves furnished variety enough and to -spare. In working for comb-honey, the racks or sections are -tiered up one above the other until as many as five stories may -be built over a good stock. But where the honey is to be -extracted from the comb another system is followed. There -is then only one super-chamber, holding ten frames side by side, -and these frames are removed separately as fast as the bees fill -and seal them, their place being taken by the empty combs -extracted the day before.</p> -<p>The whole art of this work consists in disturbing the bees as -little as possible. At ordinary times the roof of the hive -is removed, the “quilts” which cover the comb-frames -are then very gently peeled away, and the frames with their -adhering bees are placed side by side in the clearing-box. -The honey-chamber is then furnished with empty combs, and the -coverings and roof replaced. On nine days out of ten this -can be done without a veil or any subduing contrivance; and the -bees which were shut up with the honey in the clearing-box will -soon come out through the traps in the lid and fly back to their -hives. But when time presses, and several hundred hives -must be gone through in a few hours, a different system is -adopted. Speed is now a main desideratum in the work, and -on stripping-day at Warrilow resort is made to a contrivance -seldom seen there at other times. This <a -name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>is simply a -square of cloth saturated with weak carbolic acid, the most -detested, loathsome thing in bee-comity. Directly the -comb-frames are laid bare these cloths are drawn over them, and -in a few moments every bee has crowded down terror-stricken into -the lower regions of the hive, leaving the honey-chamber free for -instant and swift manipulation.</p> -<h2><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -164</span>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> -SUMMER LIFE IN A BEE-HIVE</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">If</span> you go to the bee-garden early -of a fine summer’s morning you will be struck by the -singular quiet of the place. All the woods and hedgerows -are ringing with busy life. The rooks are cawing homeward -with already hours of strenuous work behind them. The -cattle in the meadows are well through their first cud. But -as yet the bee-city is as still as the sleeping village around -it. Now and again a bee drops down from the sky on a -deserted hive-threshold with sleepy hum, and runs past the guards -at the gate. But these are bees that have wandered too far -afield overnight, tempted by the sunny warmth of the -evening. The dusk has caught them, and obliterated their -flying-marks. They have perforce camped out under some -broad leaf, to be wakened by the earliest light of morning and -hurry home with their belated loads.</p> -<p>The sun is well up over the hillbrow before the visible life -of the bee-garden begins to rouse in earnest. The -water-seekers are the first to appear. <a -name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 165</span>Every hive -has its traditional dipping-place, generally the oozy margin of -some neighbouring pond, where the house-martins have been -wheeling and crying since the first grey of dawn. Now the -bees’ clear undertone begins to mingle with the chippering -chorus. In a little while there is a thin straight line of -humming music stretched between the hives and the pond: it could -not be straighter if a surveyor had made it with his level. -Again a little while, and this long searchlight of melody thrown -out by the bee-garden veers to the north. You may track it -straight over copse and meadow, seeing not a bee overhead, but -guided unerringly by the arrow-flight of music, until, on the far -hillside, it is lost in a perfect roar of sound. Here the -white-clover is in almost full blossom again: in southern England -at least it is always the second crop of clover that yields the -most plentiful harvest to the hives.</p> -<p>It must be a disturbing thing to those kindergarten moralists -who hold the bee up to youth for an example of industry and -prudence to learn that she is by no means an early riser; though, -at this time of year, she is undoubtedly both wealthy and -wise. For it is her very wisdom that now makes her a -lie-abed. When the iron is hot, she will not be slow in -striking. But it is nectar, not dewdrops, from which she -makes her honey. Very wisely she waits until the sun has -drunk up the dew from the clover-bells, and then she hurries -forth to garner their undiluted sweets. Even then, perhaps, -three-fourths of her burden will be carried uselessly. In -the brewing-vats of the hive the nectar must stand and steam -until three parts of its original <a name="page166"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 166</span>bulk has evaporated, and its sugar -has been inverted into grape-sugar. Then it is honey, but -not before. When we see the fanning-army at work by the -entrance of a hive, it is not alone an undoubted passion for pure -air that moves the bees to such ingenious activity. In the -height of the honey season many pints of vaporised liquid must be -given off by the maturing stores in the course of a day and -night, and all this water must be got rid of. Herein is -shown the wisdom of the bee-master who makes the walls of his -hives of a material that is a bad conductor of heat. It is -a first necessity of health to the bees that the moisture in the -air, which they are incessantly fanning out at this time, should -not condense until it is safely wafted from the hive. A -cold-walled hive can easily become a quagmire.</p> -<p>The bee-garden is quiet now in the sweet virgin light of the -summer’s morning; but the thought of it as containing so -many houses of sleep, true of the village with its thatched human -dwellings, could not well be farther from the truth in regard to -the village of hives. There is little sleep in a bee-hive -in summer. Of any common period of rest, of any quiet night -when all but the sentinels at the gate are slumbering, of any -general time of relaxation, there is absolutely none. Each -individual bee—forager or nurse, comb-builder or -storekeeper—works until she can work no more, and then -stops by the way, or crawls into the nearest empty cell for a -brief siesta. But the life of the hive itself never halts, -never wavers in summertime, night or day. Go to it morning, -noon, or night in the hot July season, and you will always <a -name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>find it -driving onward unremittingly. The crowd is surging to and -fro. There is ever the busy deep labour-note. Its -people are building, brewing, wax-making, scavenging, -wet-nursing, being born and dying: it is all going on without -pause or break inside those four reverberating walls, while you -stand without in the dew-soaked grass and level sunbeams -wondering how it is that all the world can be at full flood-tide -of merry life and music while these mysterious hive people give -scarce a sign.</p> -<p>It is at night chiefly that the combs are built. The -wax, that is a secretion from the bees’ own bodies, will -generate only under great heat, and the temperature of the hive -is naturally greatest when all the family is at home. In -the night also such works as transferring a large mass of honey -from one comb to another are undertaken. It is curious to -note that at night time the drones get together in the remotest -parts of the hive, apparently to keep up the heat in these -distant quarters, which are away from the main cluster of -worker-bees. There is hardly another thing in creation, -perhaps, with a worse name than the drone-bee. But like all -bad things he is not so bad as he is represented. Apart -from his main and obvious use, the drone fulfils at least one -very important office. His habit is not to leave his snug -corner until close upon midday. Thus, when every -able-bodied worker bee is out foraging, the temperature of the -hive is sustained by the presence of the drones, and the young -bee-brood is in no danger of chilling.</p> -<p>Though the supreme direction of all affairs in a <a -name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 168</span>bee-hive -falls to the lot of the worker-bees, the queen-mother is second -to none in industry. At this time of year she goes about -her task with a dogged patience and assiduity pathetic to -witness. She may have to supply from two thousand to three -thousand brood-cells with eggs in the course of a single day, and -she is for ever wandering through the crowded corridors of the -hive looking for empty cradles. The old bee-masters -believed that the queen was always accompanied in these unending -promenades by exactly a dozen bees, whom they called the Twelve -Apostles. It is true that whenever the queen stops in her -march she is immediately surrounded by a number of bees, who form -themselves into a ring, keeping their heads ceremoniously towards -her. But close observation reveals the fact that the -queen-bee is never followed about by a permanent retinue. -When she moves to go on, the ring breaks and disperses before -her; but the bees who gather round her on her next halt are those -who happen to occupy the space of comb she has then reached.</p> -<p>The truth seems to be that she is passed from “hand to -hand” over the combs of the brood-nest, and is stopped -wherever a cell requires replenishing. Each bee that she -encounters on her path turns front and touches her gently with -her antenna. The queen constantly returns these salutes as -she moves, and it looks exactly as if she were going the rounds -of her domain and collecting information. Often she is -stopped by half a dozen bees in a solid phalanx, and carefully -headed off in a new direction. She looks into every cell as -she goes, and when she has lowered her body into a cell, the -Apostles <a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -169</span>instantly gather about her, with strokings and -caresses. But their number is seldom twelve. It -varies according to the bulk and length of the queen herself, and -is more often sixteen than a dozen.</p> -<h2><a name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -170</span>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> -THE YELLOW PERIL IN HIVELAND</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the hedgerow that surrounds the -bee-garden the wrens and robins have been singing all the morning -long. Still a few pale sulphur buds remain on the -evening-primroses. The balsams make a glowing patch of -magenta by the garden gate. Over the door porch of the old -thatched cottage purple clematis climbs bravely; and the -nasturtiums still flaunt their scarlet and gold in the sunny -angle of the wall. But, for all the colour and the music, -the hot sun, and the serene blue air overhead, you can never -forget that it is October. If the towering elm-trees by the -lane-side showed no fretting of amber in their greenery, nor the -beeches sent down their steady rain of russet, there would still -be one indubitable mark of the season—the voice of the -hives themselves.</p> -<p>Rich and wavering and low in the sweet autumn sunlight, it -comes over to you now with the very spirit of rest in every -halting tone. There is work, of a kind, doing in the -bee-garden. A steady tide of bees is stemming out from and -home to every hive. But there is none of the press and busy -<a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 171</span>clamour -of bygone summer days. It is only a make-believe of -duty. Each bee, as she swings up into the sunshine, hovers -a while before setting easy sail for the ivy in the lane; and, on -returning, she may bask for whole minutes together on the hot -hive-roof. There is no sort of hurry; little as there may -be to do abroad, there is less at home.</p> -<p>But to one section of the bee-community, these slack October -hours bring no cessation of toil. The guards at the gate -must redouble their vigilance. Cut off from most of their -natural supplies, the yellow pirates—the wasps—are -continually prowling about the entrance; and, in these lean -times, will dare all dangers for a fill of honey. Incessant -fierce skirmishes take place on the alighting-board. The -guards hurl themselves at each adventuress in turn. The -wasp, calculating coward that she is, invariably declines battle, -and makes off; but only to return a little later, hoping for the -unwary moment that is sure to come. While the whole -strength of the picket is engaged with other would-be pilferers, -she slips round the scuffling crew, and plunges into the fragrant -gloom of the hive.</p> -<p>The variation in temperament among the members of a bee-colony -is never better illustrated than by the way in which these -marauders are received and dealt with. The wasp never tries -to pick a way to the honey-stores through the close packed ranks -of the bees. She keeps to the sides of the hive, and works -her way up by a series of quick darts whenever a path opens -before her. Evidently her plan is to avoid contact with the -home-keeping bees, which, at this time of year, have little more -to do <a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -172</span>than loiter over the combs, or tuck themselves away in -the empty brood-cells by the hour together. But in her -desultory advance, she often cannons against single bees; and -then she may be either mildly interrogated, fiercely challenged, -or may be allowed to pass with a friendly stroke of the -antennæ, as though she were an orthodox member of the -hive. Again, you may see her recognised for a stranger by -three or four workers simultaneously. She will be -surrounded and closely questioned. The bees draw back and -confer among themselves in obvious doubt. The wasp knows -better than to await the result of their deliberations; by the -time they look for her again, she is gone.</p> -<p>She carries her life in her hand, and well she knows it. -The farther she goes, the more suspicious and menacing the bees -become. Now she has wild little scuffles here and there -with the boldest of them, but her superior adroitness and pace -save her at every turn. It is about an even wager that she -will reach the brimming honey-cells, load herself up to the chin, -and escape home to her paper-stronghold with her spoils.</p> -<p>As often as not, however, these hive-robbing wasps pay the -last great price for their temerity. Those who study -bee-life closely and unremittingly, year after year, find it -difficult to escape the conclusion that there are certain bees in -the crowd who are mentally and physically in advance of their -sisters. The notion of the old bee-keepers—that there -were generals and captains as well as rank-and-file in the -hive—seems, in fact, to be not entirely without latter-day -confirmation. And it is just the chance of falling in with -one of these bees <a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -173</span>that constitutes, for the wasp, the main risk when -robbing the hives.</p> -<p>If this happens, there is no longer any doubt of the turn -affairs are to take. At an unlucky moment the wasp brushes -against one of these hive-constables and instead of indifference, -or, at most, a spiteful tweak of the leg or wing in passing, she -finds herself suddenly at deadly grips. The bee’s -attack is as swift as it is furious. Seizing the yellow -honey-thief with all six legs, she hacks away at her with her -jaws, at the same time curving her body inwards with her cruel -sting bared to the hilt. Even now, although more than equal -to one bee at any time, the policy of the wasp is to refuse the -fight, and to run. Her long legs give her a better -reach. She forces her adversary away, disengages, and -charges off towards the dim light of the entrance.</p> -<p>In all that follows, this is the beacon that guides her. -If she could get a clear course, her greater speed would soon -out-distance all pursuit. But the sudden clash of arms in -the quiet of the hive has an extraordinary effect on the sluggish -colony. The alarm spreads on every side. Wherever the -wasp runs now she is met with snapping jaws and detaining -embraces. As she rushes madly down the comb, she is -continually pulled up in full flight by bees hanging on to her -legs, her wings, her black waving antenna. A dozen times -she shakes them all off, and speeds on, the spot of light and -safety in the distance ever growing brighter and larger. -But she seldom escapes with her life if affairs have reached this -pass. The way now is alive with enemies. She is -stopped and headed off in all directions. Trying this way -and that for a loophole, <a name="page174"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 174</span>she finally gives it up and turns on -her tracks, bewildered and panic-stricken, only to rush straight -into the midst of more foes.</p> -<p>The end is always the same. Another of the stalwarts -spies her, and in a moment the two are locked in berserk -conflict. Together they drop down between the combs and -thud to the bottom of the hive. Here it is hard to tell -what happens. The fight is so fierce and sharp, and the two -whirl round and tumble over and over together so wildly that you -can make out little else than a spinning blur of brown and -yellow. A great bright drop of honey flies off: in her -extremity the wasp has disgorged her spoils. Perhaps for an -instant the warriors may get wedged up in a corner, and then you -may see that they are not lunging at random with their stilettos, -but each is trying for a side-thrust on the body; these mail-clad -creatures are vulnerable to each other only at one -point—the spiracles, or breathing-holes. Often the -wasp deals the first fatal blow, and the bee drops off mortally -hurt. She may even dispose of three or four of her -assailants thus in quick succession. But each time another -bee closes with her at once. For the wasp there can only be -one end to it. Sooner or later she gets the finishing -stroke.</p> -<p>And then there follows a grim little comedy. The bee, -torn and ragged as she is from the incessant gnashing of those -razor-edged yellow jaws, nevertheless pauses not a moment. -She grips her dying adversary by the base of the wing, and -struggles off with her towards the entrance of the hive. It -is a hard job, but she succeeds at last. Alternately -pushing her burden before her, or dragging it <a -name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>behind, at -length she wins out into the open, and, with a final desperate -effort, tumbles the wasp over the edge of the footboard down into -the grass below. Yet this is not enough. The victory -must be celebrated in the old warrior fashion. Rent and -bleeding and exhausted as she is, she finds she can still -fly. And up into the mellow sunbeams of the October morning -she sweeps, giddily and uncertainly, piercing the air with her -shrill song of triumph. Through the murmurous quiet of the -bee-garden, it rings out like a cry in the night.</p> -<h2><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -176</span>CHAPTER XXV<br /> -THE UNBUSY BEE</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is well-nigh two months now -since the hives were packed down for the winter, and the bees are -flying as thick as on many a summer’s day.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p176.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“The Guardian of the Hives”" -title= -"“The Guardian of the Hives”" - src="images/p176.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>Yet no one could mistake their flight for the summer -flight. It is not the straight-away eager rush up into the -blue vault of the sunny morning—high away over hedgerow and -village roof-top towards the clover-fields, whitening the far-off -hillside with their tens of thousands of honey-brimming -bells. It is rather the vagrant, purposeless hanging-about -of an habitually busy people forced to make holiday. -Through it all there runs the pathetic interest in trifles, -half-hearted and wholly artificial, that you see among the -lolling crowd of men when a great strike is on—the -thoughtful kicking at odd pebbles; stride-measuring on the -flag-stones; little vortices of excitement got up over minute -incidents that would otherwise pass unnoticed; the earnest -flagellation of memory over past happenings more trivial -still.</p> -<p>Thus the bees idle about and wander, on this <a -name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 177</span>still -November morning, doing just the things you would never expect a -bee to do. The greater number of them merely take long -desultory reaches a-wing through the sunshine, going off in one -objectless direction, turning about at the end of a few yards -with just as little apparent reason, coming back to the hive at -length on no more obvious errand than that, where there is -nothing to do, doing it in another place bears at least the -semblance of achievement.</p> -<p>But many of them succeed in conjuring up an almost ludicrous -assumption of business. One comes driving out of the -hive-entrance at a great pace, designedly, as you would think, -going out of her way to bustle the few bees lounging there, as if -the entrance-board were still thronged with the streaming crowd -of summer days foregone. She stops an instant to rub her -eyes clear of the hive-darkness; tries her wings a little to make -sure of their powers for a heavy load; then, with a deep note -like the twang of a guitar-string, launches out into the -sun-steeped air. But it is all a vain pretence, and well -she knows it. Watch her as she flies, and you will see her -busy ding-dong pace slacken a dozen yards away. She fetches -a turn or two above the leafless apple-branches of the garden, -with the rest of the chanting, workless crew. She may -presently start off again at a livelier speed than ever, as -though vexed at being allured, even for a moment, from the duty -that calls her away to the mist-clad hill. But it always -ends in the same fashion. A little later she is fluttering -down on the threshold of the silent hive, and running busily in, -keeping up the transparent fiction, you see, to the last.</p> -<h3><a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -178</span><i>An Officious Dame</i></h3> -<p>Many more set themselves to look for sweets where they must -know there is little likelihood of finding any. Scarce one -goes near the glowing belt of pompons rimming the garden on every -side. But here is one bee, an ancient dame, with ragged -wings and shiny thorax, poised outside a cranny in the old brick -wall, and examining it with serious, shrill inquiry. She is -obviously making-believe, to while away the time, that it is a -choice blossom full of nectar. She knows it is nothing of -the kind; but that will neither check her ardour nor expedite the -piece of play-acting. She spins it out to the utmost, and -leaves the one dusty crevice at last only to go through the same -performance at the next.</p> -<p>I often wonder wherein lies the fascination to a hive-bee of -an open window or door. Sitting here ledgering in the -little office of the bee-farm—where no honey, nor the smell -of honey, is ever allowed to come—sooner or later, in the -quiet of the golden morning, the familiar voice peals out. -It is startling at first, unless you are well used to -it—this sudden high-pitched clamour breaking the silence -about you; and the oldest bee-man must lay down pen or rule, and -look up from his work to scan the intruder.</p> -<p>She has darted in at the door, and has stopped in mid-air a -foot or two within the room. The sound she makes is very -different from that of a bee in ordinary flight. You cannot -mistake its meaning; it is one long-drawn-out, musical note of -exclamation, an intense, reiterated wonder at all about -her—the <a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -179</span>subdued light, the walls covered with book-shelves, the -littered table, and the vast wingless, drab-coloured creature -sitting in the midst of it all, like a funnel-spider in his -snare. Bees entering a room in this way seldom stop more -than a second or two, and, more rarely still, alight. As a -rule, they are gone the next moment as swiftly as they came, -leaving the impression that their quick retreat was due to a -sudden accession of fear; just as children, venturing into some -dark unwonted place, at first boldly enough, will suddenly turn -tail and flee, with terror hard upon their heels.</p> -<p>But what should bring bees into such unlikely situations -during these warm bright breaks in the wintry weather, when they -seldom or never venture out of the range of hives and fields in -the season of plenty? It would be curious to know whether -people who have never kept bees, nor handled hives, are -habitually pried upon in this way; or whether it is only among -bee-men the thing occurs. Naturalists are commonly agreed -that bees possess an extraordinary sense of smell; indeed, the -fact is patent to all who know anything of hive-life. Now, -years of stinging render the bee-master immune to the ordinary -results of a prod from a bee’s acid-charged stiletto. -There is only a sharp prick, a little irritation at the moment, -but seldom any after-effects of swelling or inflammation, local -or general. But all this injection of formic acid under the -skin year after year might very well have a cumulative effect, so -that the much-stung bee-man would eventually acquire in his own -person the permanent odour of the hive. And this, scented -afar off, may well be the attraction that brings these roving <a -name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 180</span>scrutineers -to places having, in themselves, no sort of interest to the -winged hive-people.</p> -<h3><i>The Perils of</i> “<i>Immunity</i>”</h3> -<p>The mention of stinging brings back a thought that has often -occurred to me. Do lovers of honey ever quite realise the -price that must be paid before their favourite sweet is there for -them on the breakfast-table, filling the room with the mingled -perfume from a whole countryside? It is easy to talk of -immunity from the effect of bee-stings; but the truth is that -this immunity means, for the bee-master, no more than power to go -on with his work in spite of the stinging. And this power -is not a permanent one. It is brought about by incessant -pricks from the living poisoned needle; the ordeal must be -continuous, or the immunity will soon pass away. Over-care -in handling bees is good only up to a certain point. The -bee-man who, by continual practice, has brought this gentlest art -to its highest perfection, so that he can do what he likes with -his own bees without fear of harm, has, in a sense, created for -himself a kind of fools’ paradise. All the time his -once dear-bought privilege is slowly forsaking him. He is -like the Listerist faddist, who so destroys all disease germs in -his vicinity that his natural disease-resisting organisation -becomes atrophied through want of work. Then, perhaps, his -precautions are upheld for a season, whereupon a particularly -virulent microbe happens by; and, finding the house empty, swept, -and garnished, calls in the seven devils with a will.</p> -<p>Such a contingency is always in wait for <a -name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 181</span>the -stay-at-home, never-stung bee-master of neighbourly -proclivities. Sooner or later he will be called to help -some maladroit in bee-craft, whose bees have been thoroughly -vitiated by years of “monkeying.” And then the -rod will come out of pickle to a lively tune. Of course, a -little stinging is nothing; but there is no doubt that, with -anything over a dozen stings or so at a time, the most hardened -and experienced bee-man may easily stand, for a minute or two at -least, in danger of losing his life.</p> -<p>So it happened to me once. I had gone to look at a -neighbour’s stocks. The bees were as quiet as lambs -until I came to the seventh hive; and then, with hardly a note of -warning, they set upon me like a pack of flying bull-dogs. -It is long enough ago now, but I can still give a pretty accurate -account of the symptoms of acute formic-acid poisoning. It -began with a curious pricking and burning over the entire inner -surface of the mouth and throat. This rapidly spread, until -my whole body seemed on fire, and the target, as it were, for -millions of red-hot darts. Then first my tongue and lips, -and every other part of head and neck, in quick succession, began -to swell. My eyes felt as though they were being driven out -of my head. My breathing machinery seized up, and all but -stopped. A giddy congestion of brain followed. -Finally, sight and hearing failed, and then almost -consciousness.</p> -<p>I can just remember crawling away, and thrusting head and -shoulders deep into a thick lilac bush, where the bees ceased to -molest me. But it was a good hour or more before I could -hold the smoker straight again, and get on with the next -stock.</p> -<h2><a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -182</span>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> -THE LONG NIGHT IN THE HIVE</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are few things more -mystifying to the student of bee-life than the way in which -winter is passed in the hive. Probably nineteen out of -every twenty people, who take a merely theoretical interest in -the subject, entertain no doubt on the matter. Bees -hibernate, they will tell you—pass the winter in a state of -torpor, just as many other insects, reptiles, and animals have -been proved to do. And, though the truth forces itself upon -scientific investigators that there is no such thing as -hibernation, in the accepted sense of the word, among hive-bees, -the perplexing part of the whole question is that, as far as -modern observers understand it, the honey-bee ought to hibernate, -even if, as a matter of fact, she does not.</p> -<p>For consider what a world of trouble would be saved if, at the -coming of winter, the worker-bees merely got together in a -compact cluster in their warm nook, with the queen in their -midst; and thenceforward slept the long cold months away, until -the hot March sun struck into them with the tidings that the -willows—first caterers for the year’s <a -name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 183</span>winged -myriads—were in golden flower once more; and there was -nothing to do but rouse, and take their fill. It would -revolutionise the whole aspect of bee-life, and, to all -appearances, vastly for the better. There would be no more -need to labour through the summer days, laying up winter -stores. Life could become for the honey-bee what it is to -most other insects—merry and leisurely. There would -be time for dancing in the sunbeams, and long siestas under -rose-leaves; and it would be enough if each little worker took -home an occasional full honey-sac or two for the babies, instead -of wearing out nerve and body in all that desperate toiling to -and fro.</p> -<p>Yet, for some inscrutable reason, the honey-bee elects to keep -awake—uselessly awake, it seems—throughout the four -months or so during which outdoor work is impossible; and to this -apparently undesirable, unprofitable end, she sacrifices all that -makes such a life as hers worth the living from a human point of -view.</p> -<h3><i>Restlessness</i>, <i>and the Reason for It</i></h3> -<p>You can, however, seldom look at wild Nature’s ways from -the human standpoint without danger of postulating too much, or, -worse still, leaving some vital, though invisible thing out of -the argument. And this latter, on a little farther -consideration, proves to be what we are now doing. -Prolonged study of hive-life in winter will reveal one hitherto -unsuspected fact. At this time, far from settling down into -a life of sleepy inactivity, the queen-bee seems to develop a -restlessness and impatience not <a name="page184"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 184</span>to be observed in her at any other -season. It is clear that the workers would lie quiet -enough, if they had only themselves to consider. They -collect in a dense mass between the central combs of the hive, -the outer members of the company just keeping in touch with the -nearest honey-cells. These cells are broached by the -furthermost bees, and the food is distributed from tongue to -tongue. As the nearest store-cells are emptied, the whole -concourse moves on, the compacted crowd of bees thus journeying -over the comb at a pace which is steady yet inconceivably -slow.</p> -<p>But this policy seems in no way to commend itself to the -queen. Whenever you look into the hive, even on the coldest -winter’s day, she is generally alert and stirring, keeping -the worker-bees about her in a constant state of wakefulness and -care. Though she has long since ceased to lay, she is -always prying about the comb, looking apparently for empty cells -wherein to lay eggs, after her summer habit. Night or day, -she seems always in this unresting state of mind, and the work of -getting their queen through the winter season is evidently a -continual source of worry to the members of the colony. -Altogether, the most logical inference to be drawn from any -prolonged and careful investigation of hive-life in winter is -that the queen-bee herself is the main obstacle to any system of -hibernation being adopted in the hive. This lying-by for -the cold weather, however desirable and practicable it may be for -the great army of workers, is obviously dead against the natural -instincts of the queen. And since, being awake, she must be -incessantly watched and fed and <a name="page185"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 185</span>cared for, it follows that the whole -colony must wake with her, or at least as many as are necessary -to keep her nourished and preserved from harm.</p> -<h3><i>The Queen a Slave to Tradition</i></h3> -<p>Those, however, who are familiar with the resourceful nature -of the honey-bee might expect her to effect an ingenious -compromise in these as in all other circumstances; and the facts -seem to point to such a compromise. It is not easy to be -sure of anything when watching the winter cluster in a hive, for -the bees lie so close that inspection becomes at times almost -futile. But one thing at least is certain. The -brood-combs between which the cluster forms are not merely -covered by bees. Into every cell in the comb some bee has -crept, head first, and lies there quite motionless. This -attitude is also common at other times of the year, and there is -little doubt that the tired worker-bees do rest, and probably -sleep, thus, whenever an empty cell is available. But now -almost the entire range of brood-cells is filled with resting -bees, like sailors asleep in the bunks of a forecastle; and it is -not unreasonable to suppose that each unit in the cluster -alternately watches with the queen, or takes her “watch -below” in the comb-cells.</p> -<p>That there should be in this matter of wintering so sharp a -divergence between the instincts of the queen-mother and her -children is in no way surprising, when we recollect how entirely -they differ on almost all other points. How this -fundamental difference has come about in the course of ages of -bee-life is too long a story for these pages. It has <a -name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 186</span>been fully -dealt with in an earlier volume by the same -writer—“The Lore of the Honey-Bee”—and to -this the reader is referred. But the fact is pretty -generally admitted that, while the little worker-bee is a -creature specially evolved to suit a unique environment, the -mother-bee remains practically identical with the mother-bees of -untold ages back. She retains many of the instincts of the -race as it existed under tropic conditions, when there was no -alternation of hot and cold seasons; and hence her complete -inability to understand, and consequent rebellion against the -needs of modern times.</p> -<h3><i>The Future Evolution of the Hive</i></h3> -<p>Whether the worker-bees will ever teach her to conform to the -changed conditions is an interesting problem. We know how -they have “improved” life in the hive—how a -matriarchal system of government has been established there, the -duty of motherhood relegated to one in the thirty thousand or so, -and how the males are suffered to live only so long as their -procreative powers are useful to the community. It is -little likely that the omnipotent worker-bee will stop -here. Failing the eventual production of a queen-bee who -can be put to sleep for the winter, they may devise means of -getting rid of her in the same way as they disburden themselves -of the drones. In some future age the mother-bee may be -ruthlessly slaughtered at the end of each season, another queen -being raised when breeding-time again comes round. Then, no -doubt, honey-bees would hibernate, as do so many <a -name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 187</span>other -creatures of the wilds; and the necessity for all that frantic -labour throughout the summer days be obviated.</p> -<p>This is by no means so fantastic a notion as it appears. -Ingenious as is the worker-bee, there is one thing that the mere -man-scientist of to-day could teach her. At present, her -system of queen-production is to construct a very large cell, -four or five times as large as that in which the common worker is -raised. Into this cell, at an early stage in its -construction, the old queen is induced to deposit an egg; or the -workers themselves may furnish it with an egg previously laid -elsewhere; or again—as sometimes happens—the large -cell may be erected over the site of an ordinary worker-cell -already containing a fertile ovum. This egg in no way -differs from that producing the common, undersized, sex-atrophied -worker-bee; but by dint of super-feeding on a specially rich -diet, and unlimited space wherein to develop, the young grub -eventually grows into a queen-bee, with all the queen’s -extraordinary attributes. A queen may be, and often is, -raised by the workers from a grub instead of an egg. The -grub is enclosed in, or possibly in some cases transferred to, -the queen-cell; and, providing it is not more than three days -old, this grub will also become a fully developed queen-bee.</p> -<h3><i>Hibernation</i>, <i>and no Honey</i></h3> -<p>But, thus far in the history of bee-life, it has been -impossible for a hive to re-queen itself unless a newly-laid egg, -or very young larva, has been available for the purpose. -Hibernation without a <a name="page188"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 188</span>queen is, therefore, in the present -stage of honey-bee wisdom, unattainable, because there would be -neither egg nor grub to work from in the spring, when another -queen-mother was needed, and the stock must inevitably -perish. Here, however, the scientific bee-master could give -his colonies an invaluable hint, though greatly to his own -disadvantage. In the ordinary heat of the brood-chamber an -egg takes about three days to hatch, but it has been ascertained -that a sudden fall in temperature will often delay this -process. The germ of life in all eggs is notoriously hardy; -and it is conceivable that by a system of cold storage, as -carefully studied and ingeniously regulated as are most other -affairs of the hive, the bees might succeed in preserving eggs -throughout the winter in a state of suspended, but not -irresuscitable life. And if ever the honey-bee, in some -future age, discovers this possibility, she will infallibly -become a true hibernating insect, and join the ranks of the -summer loiterers and merry-makers. But the bee-master will -get no more honey.</p> -<h2><a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -189</span>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> -THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BEE-GARDEN</h2> -<p>“<span class="smcap">Books</span>,” said the -Bee-Master of Warrilow, looking round through grey wreaths of -tobacco-smoke at his crowded shelves, “books seem to tell -ye most things ne’ersome-matter; but when it comes to books -on bees—well, ’tis somehow quite another pair -o’ shoes.”</p> -<p>He stopped to listen to the wind, blowing great guns outside -in the winter darkness. The little cottage seemed to crouch -and shudder beneath the blast, and the rain drove against the -lattice-windows with a sobbing, timorous note. The -bee-master drew the old oak settle nearer to the fire, and sat -for a moment silently watching the comfortable blaze.</p> -<p>“‘True as print,’” he went on, lapsing -more and more into the quaint, tangy Sussex dialect, as his theme -impressed him; “’twas an old saying o’ my -father’s; and right enough, maybe, in his time. -A’ couldn’t read, to be sure; so a’ might have -been ower unsceptical. But books was too expensive in those -days to put many lies into.”</p> -<p>He took down at random from the case on the <a -name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -190</span>chimney-breast about a dozen modern, paper-covered -treatises on bee-keeping, and threw them, rather contemptuously, -on the table.</p> -<p>“I’m not saying, mind ye,” he hastened to -add, “that there’s a word against truth in any one of -them. They’re all true enough, no doubt, for they -contradict each other at every turn. ’Tis as if one -man said roses was white; and another said, ‘No, -you’re wrong, they’re yaller’; and a third -said, ‘Y’are both wrong, they’re -red.’ And when folks are in dispute in this way, -because they agree, and not because they differ, there’s -little hope of ever pacifying them.</p> -<p>“I heard tell once of a woman bee-keeper years ago, that -had a good word about bees. Said she, ‘They never do -anything invariably’; and she warn’t far off the -truth. She knew her own sex, did wise Mrs Tupper. -Now, the trouble with the book-writers on bees is that they try -to make a science of something that can never rightly be a -science at all. They try to add two numbers together that -they don’t know, an’ that are allers changing, and -are surprised if they don’t arrive at an exact total. -There’s the bees, and there’s the weather: together -the result will be so many pounds of honey. If the English -climate went by the calendar, and the bees worked according to -unchangeable rules, you might reckon out your honey-take within a -spoonful, and bee-keeping would be little more than sitting in a -summer-house and figuring on a slate. But with frosts in -June, and August weather in February, and your honey-makers -naught but a tribe of whimsy, sex-thwarted wimmin-folk, a nation -of everlasting spinsters—how <a name="page191"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 191</span>can bee-keeping be anything else -than a kind of walking-tower in a furrin land, when every twist -an’ turn o’ the way shows something cur’ous or -different?”</p> -<p>He stopped to recharge his pipe from the earthen tobacco-jar, -shaped like an old straw beehive, which had yielded solace to -many a past generation of the Warrilow clan.</p> -<p>“’Tis just this matter of sex,” he -continued, “that these book-writing bee-masters seem to -leave altogether out of their reckoning. And yet it lies -well to the heart of the whole business. In an average -prosperous hive there are about thirty thousand of these little -stunted, quick-witted worker-bees, not one of which but could -have grown into a fully-developed mother-bee, twice the size, and -laying her thousands of eggs a day, if only her early -bringings-up had been different. But nature has doomed her -to be an old maid from her very cradle, although she is born with -all the instincts and capabilities for motherhood that you wonder -at in a fully grown, prolific queen. And yet the -bee-masters expect her to accept her fate without a murmur; to -live and work to-day just as she did yesterday and the day -before; to tend and feed patiently the young bees that she has -been denied all part in producing; to support a lot of lazy -drones in luxury and idleness; and generally to act like a -reasonable, contented, happy creature all the way -through.”</p> -<p>He took three or four long, contemplative pulls at his -Broseley clay, then came back to his subject and his dialect -together.</p> -<p>“’Tis no wonder,” said he “that the -little <a name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -192</span>worker-bee gets crotchety time an’ again. -Wimmin-creeturs is all of much the same kidney, whether -’tis bees or humans. Their natur’ is not to -look ahead, but just to do the next thing. They sees -sideways mostly, like a horse with an eye-shade but no -blinkers. But now and then they ups and looks straight -afore ’em, and then ’tis trouble brewing fer masters -o’ all kinds, whether in hives or homes o’ men. -Lot’s wife, she were a kind o’ bee-woman; and so were -Eve. I’d ha’ been glad to ha’ knowed -’em both, bless ’em! The world ’ud be all -the sweeter fer a few more like they. Harm done through -being too much of a woman-creetur is never all harm in the long -run, depend on’t.”</p> -<p>With his great sunburnt hand he stirred the flimsy, dog-eared -pamphlets about thoughtfully, as a man will stir leaves with a -stick.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p192.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“A Natural Honey-Bees’ Nest”" -title= -"“A Natural Honey-Bees’ Nest”" - src="images/p192.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p>“Now, ’tis just this way with bees,” he went -on. “If you study how to keep ’em busy, with -plain, right-down necessity hard at their heels, all goes -well. The bees have no time for anything but work. As -the supers fill with honey you take them off and put empty ones -in their place. The queen below fills comb after comb with -eggs, and you make the brood-nest larger and larger. There -is allers more room everywhere, dropped down from the skies, -like; no matter how fast the stock increases, nor how much the -bees bring in. Just their plain day’s work is enough, -and more’n enough, for the best of them. And so the -summer heat goes by; the honey harvest is ended; and the bees -have had no chance to dwell upon, and grow rebellious over, the -wise wrong that nature has done their sex. In bee-life -’tis always evil that’s <a name="page193"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 193</span>wrought, not by want o’ -thought, but by too much of it. Bad beemanship is just -giving bees time to think.”</p> -<p>“Many’s the time,” continued the bee-master, -thrusting the bowl of his empty pipe into the heart of the -wood-embers for lustration, and taking a clean one down for -immediate use from the rack over his head; “many’s -the time an’ oft it has come ower me that perhaps bees -warn’t allers as we see them now. Maybe, way back in -the times when England was a tropic country, tens of thousands -o’ years ago, there was no call for them to live packed -together in one dark chamber, as they do to-day. If the -year was warm all the twelve months through, and flowers allers -blooming, there ’ud be no need fer a winter-larder, nor fer -any hives at all. Like as not each woman-bee lived by -herself then, in some dry nook or other; made her little nest of -comb, and brought up her own children, happy and -comfortable. Maybe, even—and I can well believe it of -her, knowing her natur’ as I do—she kept a gurt, -buzzing, blusterous drone about the place an’ let him eat -and drink in idleness while she did all the work, willing enough, -for the two. Then, as the world slowly cooled down through -the centuries, there came a short time in each year when the -flowers ceased to bloom, and the bees found they had to put by a -store of honey, to last till the heat and the blossoms showed up -again. And there was another thing they must have found out -when the cold spell was over the earth. Bees that kept -apart by themselves died of cold, but those that huddled together -in crowds lived warm enough throughout the winter. The more -there were of ’em the <a name="page194"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 194</span>warmer they kept, and the less food -they needed. And so, as the winters got longer and colder, -the bee-colonies increased, until at last, from force of habit, -they took to keeping together all the year round. So you -see, like as not, ’tis experience as has brought ’em -to build their cities of to-day, just as experience, or the One -ye never mention, has put the same thing into the hearts o’ -men.”</p> -<p>A sudden flaw of wind struck the little cottage with a sound -like thunder, and made the cut-glass lustres on the mantle tinkle -and glitter in the yellow candle-glow. The old bee-man -stopped, with his pipe half-way to his mouth, nodded gravely -towards the window, in a kind of obeisance to the elements, and -then resumed his theme.</p> -<p>“But there’s a many things about bees,” he -said, “that no man ’ull come to the rights of, until -all airthly things is made clear in the Day o’ Days. -The great trouble and hindrance to bee-keeping is the swarm, and -a good bee-master nowadays tries all he can to circumvent -it. But the old habit comes back again and again, and often -with stocks of bees that haven’t had a fit o’ it for -years. Now, did ye ever think what swarming must have been -in the beginning?”</p> -<p>He suddenly levelled the pipe-stem straight at my head.</p> -<p>“Well, ’tis all speckilation, but here’s my -idee o’ it, for what ’tis worth. Take the -wapses: they’re thousands of years behind the honey-bee in -development, and so they give ye a look, so to speak, into the -past. The end of a wapse-colony comes when the females are -ready in November; and hundreds of them go off to hide for the -winter, each <a name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -195</span>in some hole or crevice, until, in the warm spring -days, each comes out to start a new and separate home. -Well, perhaps the honey-bees did much the same thing long ago, -when they were all mother-bees, in the time when the world was -young. And perhaps the swarm-fever in a hive to-day is -naught but a kind o’ memory of this, still working, though -its main use is gone. The books here will tell ye o’ -many other things brought about by swarming, right an’ good -enough with the old-fashioned hives. Yet that gainsays -nothing. Nature allers works double an’ treble handed -in all her dealings. Her every stroke tells far and wide, -like the thousand ripples you make when you pitch a stone in a -pond.”</p> -<h2><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -196</span>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> -HONEY-CRAFT OLD AND NEW</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> never comes, in early April, -that first bright hot day which means the beginning of outdoor -work on the bee-farm, but I fall to thinking of old times with a -great longing to have them back again.</p> -<p>Modern beemanship, at least to the wide-awake folk in the -craft, brings in gold pieces now where formerly one had much ado -to make shillings. But profit cannot always be reckoned in -money. The old mysteries and the old delusions were a sort -of capital that paid cent per cent if you only humoured them -aright. Bee-men, who flourished when there was a young -queen upon the throne, wore their ignorance as the parson his -silk and lawn. It was something that set them apart and -above their neighbours. All that the bees did was put to -their credit, just for the trouble of a wise wag of the head and -a little timely reticence. The organ-blower worked in full -view of the congregation, while the player sat invisibly within, -so the blower, after the common trend of earthly affairs, got all -the glory for the tune.</p> -<p><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>There -are no mysteries now in honey-craft. Science has dragooned -the fairies out of sight and hearing as a man treads out sparks -in the whin. But, though the mysteries have gone, the old -music of the hives is still here as sweet as ever. This -morning, when the sun was but an hour over the hilltop, I rose -from my bed, and, coming down the creaking stair through the -silence and half-darkness, threw the heavy old house-door -back. At once the level sunshine and the song of bees and -birds came pouring in together. There was the loud humming -of bees in the leafing honeysuckle of the porch, and the soft low -note of the hives beyond. In its plan to-day Warrilow -Bee-farm reveals the whole story of its growth from times long -gone to the present. All the hives near the cottage are -old-fashioned skeps of straw, covered in with three sticks and a -hackle. A little way down the slope the ancient bee-boxes -begin, eight-sided Stewartons mostly, with the green veneer of -decades upon some of them. Beyond these stand the first -rack-frame hives that ever came to Warrilow; and thence, -stretching away down the sunny hillside in long trim rows, are -the modern frame-bar hives, spick and span in their new -Joseph’s coats of paint, with the gillyflowers driving -golden shafts between them, until they reach the line of -sheds—comb and honey-stores, extracting-house, and -workshops—marking the distant lane-side.</p> -<h3><i>The Water-carriers</i></h3> -<p>As I stood in the doorway, caught by the mesmeric sheen of the -light and the beauty of the morning, the <a -name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 198</span>humming of -the bees overhead grew louder and louder. There were no -flowers as yet to attract them, but in early April the dense -canopy of honeysuckle here is always besieged with bees, directly -the sun has warmed the clinging dewdrops. These were the -water-carriers from the hives. Water at this time is one of -the main necessities of bee-life. With it the workers are -able to reduce the thick honey and the dry pollen to the right -consistency for consumption, and can then generate the bee-milk -with which the young larvæ are fed. Later on in the -day the water-fetchers will crowd in hundreds to the oozy -pond-side down in the valley—every bee-garden has its -ancestral drinking-place invariably resorted to year after -year. But thus early the pond-water is too cold for safe -transport by so chilly a mortal as the little worker-bee; so -Nature warms a temporary supply for her here where the dew -trembles like drops of molten rainbow at the tip of each woodbine -leaf.</p> -<p>I drank myself a deep draught from the well that goes down a -sheer sixty feet into the virgin chalk of the hillside, and fell -to loitering through the garden ways. Though it was so -early, the little oil-engine down below in the hive-making shed -was already coughing shrilly through its vent-pipe, and the saw -thrumming. Here and there among the hives my men stooped at -their work. The pony was harnessing to the cart, and would -soon be plodding the three-mile-long road to the station with the -day’s deliveries of honey. By all laws of duty I -should be down there, taking my row of hives with the -rest—master and men side by side like a string of -turnip-hoers—busy at the spring examination <a -name="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 199</span>which, as -all bee-men know, is the most important work of the year. -But the very thought of opening hives, now in the first warm -break of April weather or at any time, filled me with a strange -loathing. So it never used to be, never could be, in the -old days whose memory always comes flooding back to me at this -season with such a clear call and such a hindrance to progress -and duty. Then I had as little dreamed of opening a hive as -opening a vein. I should have done no more than I was doing -now—passing from one old straw skep to another through the -sweet vernal sunshine, my boots scattering the dew from the grass -as I went, and looking for signs that tell the bee-man nearly all -he really needs to know. I shut my ears to the throaty song -of the engine. I heard the cart drive away without a -thought of scanning its load. I got me down in a little -nook of red currant flowers under the wall, where the old straw -hives were thickest, and gave myself up to idle dreams, dreams of -the bees and bee-men of long ago.</p> -<p>I should be splitting elder, thought I; splitting the long, -straight wands to make feeding-troughs. I called to mind -doing it, here on this self-same bench near upon fifty years ago, -with my father, the woodman, sitting at my elbow learning -me. We split the wands clean and true, scooped out the pith -from each half, and dammed up its ends with clay. Then, -with a handful of these crescent troughs and a can of syrup, we -went the round of the garden together looking for stocks that -were short of stores. When we found one, we pushed the -hollow slip of elder gently into the hive-entrance as far as it -would go, and filled it with syrup, filling it <a -name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 200</span>again and -again throughout the day as the bees within drank it dry.</p> -<h3><i>The Old Style and the New</i></h3> -<p>A queer figure my father cut in his short grey smock and his -long lean bent legs encased in leathern gaiters, legs between -which, when I was little, and trotting after him, I had always a -fine view of the sky. He was never at fault in his estimate -of a hive’s prosperity. The rich clear song and -steady traffic of a well-to-do bee-nation he knew at once from -the anxious note and frantic coming and going of a -starvation-threatened hive. It was the tune that told -him. Nowadays we just rip the coverings from a hive and, -lifting the combs out one by one, judge by sheer brute-force of -eyesight whether there be need or plenty. -“One-thirty-two!”—from my sunny seat under the -pink currant blossom I can hear the call of the foreman to the -booking ’prentice down in the -bee-farm—“One-thirty-two—six frames -covered—no moth—medium light—brood over -three—mark R.Q.” R.Q. means that the stock is -to be re-queened at the earliest opportunity. She has been -a famous queen in her time—One-thirty-two. This would -have been her fourth year, had she kept up her fertility. -But “brood over three”—that is to say, only -three combs with young bees maturing in them—is not good -enough for progressive, up-to-date Warrilow in April, and she -must be pinched at last. In the common course, I never let -a queen remain at the head of affairs after her second -season. Nine out of ten of them break down under the wear -and stress <a name="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -201</span>of two summers, and fall to useless drone-breeding in -the third.</p> -<p>Already the sun has climbed high, and yet I linger, though I -know I should be gone an hour ago. The darkness, far away -as it seems, will not find all done that should be done on the -bee-farm, toil as hard as we may. For these sudden hot days -in spring often come singly, and every moment of them is -precious. To-morrow the north wind may be keening under an -iron-grey sky, and pallid wreaths of snow-flakes weighing down -the almond-blossom. So it happened only a year ago, when on -the twenty-fifth of April I must clear away the snow from the -entrance-boards of the hives. It is, I think, the unending -round of business—the itch that is on us now of finding a -day’s work for every day in the year in modern -beecraft—which has had most to do with the changed -times. The old leisure, as well as the old colour and -mystery, has gone out of bee-keeping. Between burning-time -in August and swarming-time in May there used to be little else -for the bee-master to do but smoke his pipe and ruminate and -watch the wax flowing into the hives. For we all believed -that the little pellets of many-tinted pollen which the bees -constantly carry in on their thighs were not food for the grubs -in the cells, but wax for the comb-building. I could -believe it now, indeed, if I might only sit here long enough; but -the busy voices are calling, calling, and I must be gone.</p> -<h2><a name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -202</span>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> -THE BEE-MILK MYSTERY</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Among</span> the innumerable scraps of -more or less erroneous information on hive-life, dished up by the -popular newspapers in course of the year’s round, there is -occasionally one which is sure to grip the curious reader’s -attention. No one expects nowadays to read of the honey-bee -without being set agape at the marvellous; but, really, when he -is gravely told that the nurse-bees in a hive actually give the -breast to their young, suckling them with a secreted liquid which -is nothing more or less than milk, the ordinarily faithful -newspaper student is entitled to be for once incredulous.</p> -<p>The thing, however, in spite of its grotesque improbability, -comes nearer to the plain truth than many another item of -bee-life more often encountered and unquestionably -accepted. There are veritable nurse-bees in a hive, and -these do produce something not unlike milk. In about three -days after the egg has been deposited in the comb-cell by the -queen, or mother-bee, a tiny white grub emerges. The -feeding of this grub is immediately commenced by the bees in -charge of the nursery quarters of the <a name="page203"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 203</span>hive, and there is administered to -it a glistening white substance closely resembling thick -cream.</p> -<p>Analysts tell us that this bee-milk, as it is called, is -highly nitrogenous in character, and that it has a decidedly acid -reaction. It is obviously produced from the mouths of the -nurse-bees, and appears to be digested matter thrown up from some -part of the bee’s internal system, and combined with the -secretions from one or more of the four separate sets of glands -which open into different parts of the worker-bee’s -mouth. The power to secrete this bee-milk seems to be -normally limited to those workers who are under fourteen or -fifteen days old. After that time the bee runs dry, her -nursing work is relinquished, and she goes out to forage for -nectar and pollen, never, as far as is known, resuming the task -of feeding the young grubs. But if the faculty is not -exercised, it may be held in abeyance for months together. -This takes place at the close of each year, when we know that the -last bees born to the hive in autumn are those who supply the -milk for the first batches of larva raised in the ensuing -spring.</p> -<p>It is difficult to keep out the wonder-weaving mood when -writing of any phase of hive-life, and especially so when we have -this bee-milk under consideration. For all recent studies -of the matter tend to prove several facts about it not merely -wonderful, but verging on the mysterious.</p> -<p>In the first place, its composition seems to be variable at -the will of the bees. The white liquid is supplied to the -grubs of worker, queen, and drone, and not only is its nature -different with each, but it is even possible that this may be -farther modified <a name="page204"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -204</span>in the various stages of their development. It is -well ascertained that the physical and temperamental differences -between queen and worker-bee, widely marked as they appear, are -entirely due to treatment and feeding during the larval -stage. That the eggs producing the two are identical is -proved by the fact that these can be transposed without -confounding the original purpose of the hive. The queen-egg -placed in the worker-cell develops into a common worker, while -the worker-egg, when exalted to a queen’s cradle, -infallibly produces a fully accoutred queen bee. The -experiment can also be made even with the young grubs, provided -that these are no more than three days old, and the same result -ensues.</p> -<p>A close study of the food administered to bees when in the -larval stage of their career is specially interesting, because it -gives us the key to many otherwise inexplicable matters connected -with hive-life. We do not know, and probably never shall -know, how mere variation in diet causes certain organs to appear -and certain other bodily parts to absent themselves. If the -difference between queen and worker-bee were simply one of -development, the worker being only an undersized, semi-atrophied -specimen of a queen, there would be little mystery about -it. But each has several highly specialised organs, of -which the other has no trace, just as each has certain functions -reduced to mere rudimentary uselessness, which, in the other, -possess enormous development and a corresponding importance.</p> -<p>Clearly the food given in each case has peculiar properties, -bringing about certain definite invariable <a -name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -205</span>results. We are able, therefore, to say -positively that most of the classic marvels of bee-life are built -up on this one determined issue, this one logical adjustment of -cause and effect. The hive creates thousands of sexless -workers and only one fertile mother-bee. It limits the -number of its offspring according to the visible food supplies or -the needs of the commonwealth. It brings into existence, -when necessity calls for them, hundreds of male bees or drones, -and when their period of usefulness is over it decrees their -extermination. When the queen’s fecundity declines, -it raises another queen to take her place. It can even, -under certain rare conditions of adversity, manufacture what is -known as a fertile worker, when some mischance has deprived it of -its mother-bee and the materials for providing a legitimate -successor to her are not forthcoming. And all these results -are primarily brought about by the one means, the one vehicle of -mystery—this wonderful bee-milk playing its part at all -stages in the honey-bee’s life from her cradle to her -grave.</p> -<p>For to track down this subtly-compounded elixir through all -its various uses one must take a survey of almost the whole round -of activities in the hive. The food of the young larva, -whether of queen or worker, for the first three days after the -eggs are hatched, seems to consist entirely of bee-milk. -The drone-grub gets an extra day of this richly nitrogenous -diet. And for the remaining two days of the grub stage of -the bee’s life milk is given continuously, but, in the case -of the worker and drone, in greatly diminished supply. Its -place during these two days is largely taken, it is said, by <a -name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 206</span>honey and -digested pollen in the worker’s instance, and by honey and -raw pollen for the males.</p> -<p>The queen-grub alone receives bee-milk, of a specially rich -kind and in unlimited quantity, for the whole of her larval -life. This “royal jelly,” as the old -bee-masters termed it, is literally poured into the capacious -queen-cell. For the whole five days of her existence as a -larva she actually bathes in it up to the eyes. But, as far -as is known, she receives no other food during this time. -The regular order of her development, and of that of the -worker-bee, during the five days of the grub stage has been -carefully studied, and it is curious to note that the very time -when the queen’s special organs of motherhood begin to show -themselves coincides exactly with the moment at which the -worker-grub’s allowance of bee-milk is cut down and other -food substituted.</p> -<p>This, no doubt, explains why these organs in the adult -worker-bee are so elementary as to be practically non-existent, -and accounts for the queen’s generous growth in other -directions. But it leaves us completely in the dark as to -the reason for the worker’s subsequent elaboration of such -organs as the pollen-carrying device, the so-called wax-pincers, -and the wax-secreting glands, of which the queen possesses -none. Nor are we able to see how the giving or withholding -of the bee-milk should furnish the queen with a long curved sting -and the worker with a short straight one; nor how mere -manipulation of diet can result in making the two so dissimilar -in temperament and mental attributes—the worker laborious, -sociable, almost preternaturally alert of mind, and withal -essentially <a name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -207</span>a creature of the open air and sunshine; the queen dull -of intelligence, possessed of a jealous hatred of her peers, for -whom all the light and colour and fragrance of a summer’s -morning have no allurements, a being whose every instinct keeps -her, from year’s end to year’s end, pent in the -crowded tropic gloom of the hive.</p> -<p>But the bee-milk as well as being the main ingredient in the -larval food, has other and almost equally important uses. -It is supplied by the workers to the adult queen and drones -throughout nearly the whole of their lives, and forms an -indispensable part of their daily diet. And this gives us a -clue in our attempt to understand, not only how the population of -the hive is regulated, but why the males are so easily disposed -of when the annual drone-massacre sets in. By giving or -depriving her of the bee-milk, the workers can either stimulate -the queen to an enormous daily output of eggs or reduce her -fertility to a bare minimum; and, as for the drones, it is -starvation that is the secret of their half-hearted, feeble -resistance to fate.</p> -<p>Yet though we may recount these things, and speak of this -mysterious essence called bee-milk as really the mainspring of -all effort and achievement within the hive, it is doubtful -whether we have solved the greatest mystery of all about -it. Of what is it composed, and whence is it derived? -The generally-accepted explanation of its origin is that it is -pollen-chyle regurgitated from the second stomach of the bee, -combined with the secretions from certain glands of the mouth in -passing. But the most careful dissections have never -revealed anything like bee-milk in any part of the bee’s <a -name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 208</span>internal -system. Its pure white, opaque quality has absolutely no -counterpart there: nor, indeed—if we are to believe latest -investigations—does pollen-chyle exist at all in either the -first or second stomach of the bee, whence alone it could be -regurgitated. Bee-milk, it would seem, is still a -physiological mystery, and so may remain to the end of time.</p> -<h2><a name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -209</span>CHAPTER XXX<br /> -THE BEE-BURNERS</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">Country</span> wanderings towards the end -of summer, even now when the twentieth century is two decades -old, still bring to light many ancient and curious things. -Within an hour of London, and side by side with the latest -agricultural improvements, you can still see corn coming down to -the old reaping-hook, still watch the plough-team of bullocks -toiling over the hillside, still get that unholy whiff of sulphur -in the bee-gardens where the old-fashioned skeppists are -“taking up” their bees.</p> -<p>Burning-time came round usually towards the end of August, -sooner or later according to the turn of the season. The -bee-keeper went the round of his hives, choosing out the heaviest -and the lightest stocks. The heaviest hives were taken -because they contained most honey; the lightest because, being -short of stores, they were unlikely to survive the winter, and -had best be put to profit at once for what they were worth. -Thus a complete reversal of the doctrine of the survival of the -fittest was artificially brought about by the old -bee-masters. The most vigorous strains of bees were -carefully weeded out <a name="page210"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 210</span>year by year, and the perpetuation -of the race left to those stocks which had proved themselves -malingerers and half-hearts.</p> -<p>There was also another way in which this system worked wholly -for the bad. If a hive of bees reached burning-time with a -fully charged storehouse, it was probably due to the fact that -the stock had cast no swarm that year, and had, therefore, -preserved its whole force of workers for honey-getting. -Under the light of modern knowledge, any stall of bees that -showed a lessened tendency towards swarming would be carefully -set aside, and used as the mother-hive for future generations; -for this habit of swarming, necessary under the old dispensation, -is nothing else than a fatal drawback under the new. The -scientific bee-master of to-day, with his expanding -brood-chambers and his system of supplying his hives artificially -with young and prolific queens every third year, has no manner of -use for the old swarming-habit. It serves but to break up -and hopelessly to weaken his stocks just when he has got them to -prime working fettle. Although the honey-bee still clings -to this ancient impulse, there is no doubt that selective -cultivation will ultimately evolve a race of bees in which the -swarming-fever shall have been much abated, if not wholly -extinguished; and then the problem of cheap English honey will -have been solved. But in ancient times the bee-gardens were -replenished only from those hives wherein the swarming-fever was -most rampant. The old bee-keepers, in consigning all their -heavy stocks to the sulphur-pit, unconsciously did their best to -exterminate all non-swarming strains.</p> -<p><a name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>The -bee-burning took place about sunset, or as soon as the last -honey-seekers were home for the night. Small circular pits -were dug in some quiet corner hard by. These were about six -or eight inches deep, and a handful of old rags that had been -dipped in melted brimstone having been put in, the bee-keeper -went to fetch the first hive. The whole fell business went -through in a strange solemnity and quietude. A knife was -gently run round under the edge of the skep, to free it from its -stool, and the hive carefully lifted and carried, mouth -downwards, towards the sulphur-pit, none of the doomed bees being -any the wiser. Then the rag was ignited and the skep -lowered over the pit. An angry buzzing broke out as the -fumes reached the undermost bees in the cluster, but this quickly -died down into silence. In a minute or two every bee had -perished, and the pit was ready for the next hive.</p> -<p>That this senseless and wickedly wasteful custom should have -been almost universal among bee-men up to comparatively recent -times is sufficiently a matter for wonder; but that the practice -should still survive in certain country districts to-day -well-nigh passes belief. If the art of bee-driving—a -simple and easy method by which all the bees in a full hive may -be transferred unhurt to an empty one, and that within a few -minutes—were a new discovery, the thing might be condoned -as all of a piece with the general benightedness of -mediæval folk. But bee-driving was known, and openly -advocated, by several writers on apiculture at least a hundred -years ago. By this method, just as easy as the old and -cruel one, not only do the entire stores of each hive fall into -the undisputed <a name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -212</span>possession of the bee-master, but he retains the colony -of bees complete and unharmed for future service. He has -secured all the golden eggs, and the goose is still alive.</p> -<p>Those who desire to make a start in beemanship inexpensively -might do worse than adopt a practice which the writer has -followed for many years past. As soon as the time for the -bee-burners’ work arrives, a bicycle is rigged up with a -bamboo elongation fore and aft. From this depend a number -of straw skeps tied over with cheese-cloth. A bee-smoker -and a set of driving-irons complete the equipment, and there is -no more to do than sally forth into the country in search of -condemned bees.</p> -<p>It is usually not difficult to persuade the cottage apiarist -to let you operate on his hives. As soon as he learns that -all you ask for your trouble is the bees, while you undertake to -leave him the entire honey-crop and a <i>pour-boire</i> into the -bargain, he readily gives you access to his stalls. The -work before you is now surprisingly simple. A few strong -puffs of smoke into the entrance of the hive under manipulation -will effectually subdue the bees. Then the hive is lifted, -turned over, and placed mouth upwards in any convenient -receptacle—a pail or bucket will do, and will hold it as -firmly as need be. Your own travelling-gear now comes into -use. One of the empty skeps is fitted over the inverted -hive. The two are pinned together with an ordinary -meat-skewer at one point, and then the skep is prised up and -fixed on each side with the driving-irons, so that the whole -looks like a box with the lid half-raised. Now you have -merely to take up a position in front of the two hives, and <a -name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 213</span>begin a -steady gentle thumping on the lower one with the palms of the -hands.</p> -<p>At first, as the combs begin to vibrate, nothing but chaos and -bewilderment are observable among the bees. For a moment or -two they run hither and thither in obvious confusion. But -presently they seem to get an inkling of what is required of -them, and then follows one of the most interesting, not to say -fascinating, sights in the whole domain of bee-craft. -Evidently the bees arrive at a common agreement that the -foundations of their old home have become, from some mysterious -cause or other, undermined and perilous; and the word goes forth -that the stronghold must be abandoned without more ado. On -what initiation the manœuvre is started has never been -properly ascertained; but in a little while an ordered discipline -seems to spread throughout the erstwhile distracted -multitude. In one solid hurrying phalanx the bees begin to -sweep up into the empty skep. Once fairly on the march, the -process is soon completed. In eight or ten minutes at most, -the entire colony hangs in a dense compact cluster from the roof -of your hive. Below, brood-combs and honey-combs are alike -entirely deserted. There is nothing left for you to do now -but carefully to detach the uppermost skep: replace the -cheese-cloth, thus securing your prisoners for their journey to -their new home; and to set about driving the next stock.</p> -<h2><a name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -214</span>CHAPTER XXXI<br /> -EVOLUTION OF THE MODERN HIVE</h2> -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> bee-master, explaining to an -interested novice the wonders of the modern bar-frame hive, often -finds himself confronted by a very awkward question. He is -at no loss for words, so long as he confines himself to an -enumeration of the hive’s many advantages over the ancient -straw skep—its elastic brood and honey chambers, its -movable combs interchangeable with all other hives in the garden, -its power of doubling and trebling both the number of worker-bees -in a colony and the amount of harvested honey; above all, its -control over sanitation and the breeding of unnecessary -drones. But when he is asked the question: Who invented -this hive which has brought about such a revolution in bee-craft? -his eloquence generally comes to a dead stop. Perhaps one -in a hundred of skilled modern bee-keepers is able to answer the -query. But the ninety-nine will tell you the bar-frame hive -had no single inventor; it came to its latter-day perfection by -little and little—the conglomerate result of years of -experience and the working of many minds.</p> -<p style="text-align: center"> -<a href="images/p214.jpg"> -<img alt= -"“Ancient cottage ruin showing recesses for hives”" -title= -"“Ancient cottage ruin showing recesses for hives”" - src="images/p214.jpg" /> -</a></p> -<p><a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 215</span>This -is, of course, as true of the modern bee-hive as it is of all -other appliances of world-wide utility. But it is equally -true that everything must have had a prime inception at some -time, and through some special human agency or other; and, in the -case of the bar-frame hive, the honours appear to be pretty -equally divided between two personages widely separated in the -world’s history—Samson and Sir Christopher Wren.</p> -<p>Perhaps these two names have never before been bracketed -together either in or out of print; yet that the association is -not a fanciful, but in all respects a natural and necessary one -will not be difficult to prove.</p> -<p>The story of how Samson, albeit unconsciously, first gave the -idea of the movable comb-frame to an English bee-master is -probably new to most apiarians. As to whether the cloud of -insects which Samson saw about the carcase of the dead lion were -honey-bees or merely drone-flies, we need not here pause to -determine. We are concerned for the moment only with one -modern explanation of the incident. This is that, although -honey-bees abominate carrion in general, in this particular case -the carcase had been so dried and emptied and purified by the sun -and usual scavenging agencies of the desert as to leave nothing -but a shell—a very serviceable makeshift for a bee-hive, in -fact—consisting of the tanned skin stretched over the ribs -of the lion.</p> -<p>In the summer of 1834 a certain Major Munn was walking among -his hives, pondering the ancient Bible narrative, when a sudden -brilliant idea occurred to him. Like most advanced -bee-keepers <a name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -216</span>of his day, he had long grown dissatisfied with the -straw hive, and his bees were housed in square wooden -boxes. But these, although more lasting, were nearly as -unmanageable as the skeps. The bees built their combs -within them on just the same haphazard plan; and, once built, the -combs were fixed permanently to the tops of the boxes. Now, -the idea which had occurred to Major Munn was simply this: He -reflected that the combs built by the bees in the dry shell of -the lion-skin were probably attached each to one of the -encircling ribs; so that, when Samson took the honey-comb, all he -need have done was to remove a rib, bringing the attached comb -away with it. Thereupon Major Munn set to work to make a -hive on the rib-plan, which was composed of a number of wooden -frames standing side by side, each to contain a comb and each -removable at will. Since that time numberless small and -great improvements have been devised; but, in its essence, the -modern hive is no more than the dried lion-skin distended by the -ribs, as Samson found it on that day when he went on his fateful -mission of wooing.</p> -<p>The part played by Sir Christopher Wren in the evolution of -the bar-frame hive, though not so romantic, was fraught with -almost equal significance to modern bee-craft. Movable -comb-frames were as yet undreamed of in Wren’s time, nearly -two hundred years before Major Munn invented them. But Wren -seems to have been the discoverer of a principle just as -important. This was what latter-day bee-keepers call -“storification.” Wren’s hive consisted of -a series of wooden boxes, octagonal in shape, placed one below -the other, with <a name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. -217</span>inter-communicating doors, and glass windows in the -sides of each section. Up to that date bee-hives had been -merely single receptacles made of straw, plastered wattles, or -wood. When the stock had outgrown its dwelling there was -nothing for it but to swarm. But by the device of adding -another story below the first one, when this was crowded with -bees, and a third or even a fourth if necessary, Wren was able to -make his hive grow with the growth of his bee-colony or contract -with its post-seasonal decline. He had, in fact, invented -the elastic brood-chamber, which alone enables the bee-master to -put in practice the one cardinal maxim of successful -bee-keeping—the production of strong stocks.</p> -<p>Wren’s octagon storifying hive seems to have been -plagiarised by most eminent bee-masters of his day and after with -the naïve dishonesty so characteristic among bee-men of the -time. Thorley’s hive is obviously taken from, indeed, -is probably identical with, that of Wren. The hive made and -sold by Moses Rusden, King Charles II.’s bee-master, is of -almost exactly the same pattern, but it is described as -manufactured under the patent of one John Geddie. This -patent was taken out by Geddie in 1675, and Geddie would appear -to be the arch-purloiner of the whole crew. For it is quite -certain that, having had one of Wren’s hives shown to him, -he was not content with merely copying it, but actually went and -patented the principle as his own idea.</p> -<p>But Wren’s hive, good as it was in comparison with the -single-chambered straw skep or wooden box, still lacked one vital -element. Although he <a name="page218"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 218</span>and his imitators had realised the -advantage of an expanding bee-hive, this was secured only by the -process of “nadiring,” or adding room below. -Thus the upper part of Wren’s hive always contained the -oldest and dirtiest combs, and as bees almost invariably carry -their stores upwards, the production of clear, uncontaminated -honey under this system was impossible. It remained for a -Scotsman, Robert Kerr, of Stewarton, in Ayrshire, to perfect, -some hundred and fifty years later, what Wren had so ingeniously -begun.</p> -<p>Whether Kerr—or “Bee Robin,” as he was -called by his neighbours—ever saw or heard of hives on Sir -Christopher Wren’s plan has never been ascertained. -But plagiarism was in the air throughout those far-off times, and -there is no reason to think Kerr better than his fellows. -In any case, the “Stewarton” hive, like Wren’s, -was octagon in shape, and had several stories; but these stories -were added above as well as below. By placing his empty -boxes first underneath the original brood-chamber, to stimulate -increase of population, and then, when the honey-flow began, -placing more boxes above to receive the surplus honey, “Bee -Robin” succeeded in getting some wonderful harvests. -His big supers, full of snow-white virgin honey-comb, were soon -the talk of Glasgow, where he readily sold them. Imitators -sprang up far and near, and it is only within the last -twenty-five or thirty years that his hives can be said to have -fallen into desuetude.</p> -<p>But probably his success was due not more to his invention of -the expanding honey-chamber than to two other important -innovations which he effected <a name="page219"></a><span -class="pagenum">p. 219</span>in bee-craft. The octagonal -boxes of Wren had fixed tops with a central hole, much like the -straw hive still used by the old-fashioned bee-keepers to this -day. “Bee Robin” did away with these fixed -tops, and substituted a number of parallel wooden bars from which -the combs were suspended, the spaces between the bars being -filled by slides withdrawable at will. He could thus, after -having added a story to his honey-chamber, allow the bees access -to it by withdrawing his slides from the outside: and when the -super was filled with honey-comb, the slides were again employed -in shutting off communication, whereupon the super could be -easily removed.</p> -<p>This, however, though it greatly facilitated the work of the -bee-master, did not account for the large yields of surplus -honey, which the “Stewarton” hive first made -possible. In the light of modern bee-knowledge, it is plain -that a big honey-harvest can only be secured by a corresponding -large stock of bees, and Robert Kerr seems to have been the -originator of what was nothing less than a revolution in the -craft. Hitherto the bee-keeper had estimated his wealth -according to the number of his hives, and the more these -subdivided by swarming, the more prosperous their owner accounted -himself. But “Bee Robin” reversed all -this. He housed his swarms not singly, but always two at a -time; and he made large stocks out of small ones by the simple -expedient of piling the brood-boxes of several colonies -together. In a word, it was the “Dreadnought” -principle applied to the peaceful traffic of the hives.</p> - -<div class="gapspace"> </div> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">PRINTED IN -GREAT BRITAIN AT</span><br /> -<span class="GutSmall">THE NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, -LIMITED</span><br /> -<span class="GutSmall">WATERLOO HOUSE, THORNTON STREET,</span><br -/> -<span class="GutSmall">NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.</span></p> - -<div class="gapline"> </div> -<h1>A New English Classic</h1> -<p style="text-align: center">Tenth Edition. Crown 8vo. xxiv+282 -pp. 7s. 6d.net.</p> - -<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> -<h2>THE LORE<br /> -OF THE HONEY-BEE</h2> -<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br -/> -TICKNER EDWARDES</p> - -<div class="gapshortline"> </div> -<p style="text-align: center"><i>OPINIONS OF THE PRESS</i></p> -<blockquote><p>“An eminently readable book . . . admirably -illustrated, not unworthy to rank beside the masterpiece of -Maurice Maeterlinck.”—<i>Times</i>.</p> -<p>“It must, of course, sound like grossly exaggerated -praise if one says that a book has appeared in the hustled crowd -of twentieth-century volumes which is a worthy successor to -Gilbert White’s ‘Natural History of Selborne,’ -but the interest, charm, and ‘personality’ of Mr -Edwardes’ work tempt one to class him among the rare -masters of that most difficult art which preserves the perfume of -country joys in printers’ -ink.”—<i>World</i>.</p> -<p>“A wholly charming book that should become a -classic. Nothing quite so good, or written with such -complete literary skill, has appeared from an English -printing-press for long enough. . . . It deserves a place -upon the select bookshelf that holds ‘The Compleat -Angler’ and George Herbert’s -‘Temple’”—<i>County Gentleman</i>.</p> -<p>“A work of quite extraordinary -interest.”—<i>Spectator</i>.</p> -<p>“A wonderful story . . . told with great charm, and much -delicate literary art.”—<i>Daily Telegraph</i>.</p> -<p>“A fascinating tale. . . . Quite into the front -rank of writers steps Mr Edwardes, who, in ‘The Lore of the -Honey-Bee’ gives us a book which, while full of -information, is worth reading for its literary charm -alone.”—<i>Daily Mail</i>.</p> -<p>“A volume which shows up the life of the bee in fresh -and brilliant facets—a book which every bee-lover will -cherish.”—<i>Glasgow News</i>.</p> -<p>“All the virtues of Maeterlinck’s well-known prose -epic, without its failings . . . Every page is intensely -interesting. . . . The book is embellished with twenty-four -of the clearest and best photographs of bee economy that we have -seen.”—<i>Daily News</i>.</p> -<p>“A lively and informing book . . . the many -illustrations well chosen, and all good . . . Mr Tickner -Edwardes has done nothing so good as this.”—<i>Daily -Chronicle</i>.</p> -</blockquote> -<p style="text-align: center">METHUEN & CO., 36 ESSEX STREET, -LONDON, W.C.</p> -<h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2> -<p><a name="footnote43"></a><a href="#citation43" -class="footnote">[43]</a> Before the War.</p> -<pre> - - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEE-MASTER OF WARRILOW*** - - -***** This file should be named 63208-h.htm or 63208-h.zip****** - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/3/2/0/63208 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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