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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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