BEE-spoke-data/bees-v0 huggingface dataset:
I must now describe a very important part of bee-keeping, namely, how to obtain the honey, which the bees are ready, if managed well, to store away for us, either in large boxes or glasses, or, far better still, in those beautiful little cases which are called sections. But before **I** describe the process, let us think of the state of things within the hive which leads the bees thus to prepare and fill them.
As summer advances the hive becomes more and more populous. Young bees are hatching out daily, and all the frames, not wanted for the brood-nest, are more or less filled with honey, so that there is really neither room nor work in the hive for all the bees, The consequence is that an emigration on a large scale must take place.
The same thing happens in our own land. England becomes over-populated, and so thousands leave the old country, and go across the seas to find new homes, and fresh land to cultivate, in countries where there is abundant room for all. We hear thus of thousands going to America, New Zealand, and Australia.
In the case of the bees, when this kind of emigration must take place, and they feel the time coming near, they begin to make preparation by, first of all, taking steps to provide a new queen as formerly described. When she is nearly ready to come out of her royal cell, scouts go out to find a favourable home for the emigrants. It may be in an old tree, or in the roof of a house. I have often known bees at such times come down a chimney, black as sweeps, into a room. These were the scouts looking for a new home, and examining the chimney-pot ; and, being unable to return, on account of getting covered with soot, they fell down into the room. All things being now ready, the bees on some fine morning, if left to themselves, would issue forth as a natural swarm.
But it often happens that the bee-keeper does not want any increase in the number of his stocks. And so, before this swarming takes place, indeed as soon as the hives become full of bees, he says, 'No, I do not intend you to make a swarm. You must all remain at home, and make honey for my use.' And when the bees reply, 'We cannot do so, for we have no room in which to store it,' the bee-keeper still says, 'No ; I cannot let you go, but I will give you room. I will give you a large super, or a glass, or more probably a number of the little sections ; and, as soon as you have filled these, I will give you more. You shall never stand still for want of room ; you shall always have plenty.'
To carry out this purpose, the bee-keeper first of all prepares his super or his sections by fixing in them small pieces of comb foundation, made very thin for this special purpose. This secures that the bees build the comb, true and straight, in the proper shape. Then, in the case of sections, he puts a number of them into a wooden frame called a rack, which holds them all together.
In the next place he takes off from the frames in the hive the quilts and covering, and puts on the whole case of sections instead, covering all over with plenty of flannel. And then, lastly, he puts on the roof, which, as I have said before, must have plenty of room inside. You see this done in the following illustration.
The bees now, of course, have easy admission into all these sections, and generally will begin work in them without delay if only the sections are kept
Hive with Sections in Position:
perfectly warm, and the weather is favourable. And very soon some will be finished, filled with the purest comb and the best of honey.
As soon as some are filled, and the cells sealed over, the bee-keeper takes them away, substituting at the same time an equal number of empty sections. Doubtless the bees are extremely astonished to find empty sections instead of full ones. They must think, that it seems like an endless task to try and get them full. It must seem to them like the task of Sisyphus in the old story, who had to roll to the top of a hill a large stone, which had no sooner reached the summit than it fell back, and the labour had to be recommended. But like good bees--giving us an excellent example--they make the best of it, and go on honey gathering, humming their pleasant song, content to work not only for themselves but for others.
* The more their strength calamity hath drained, The more will they exert them to repair The nation's falling state, their garners fill, And re-construct their masonry of flowers.' VIRGIL (by Kennedy).
But when the bee-keeper wishes to obtain the greatest possible quantity of honey, he does not depend entirely on supers, whether sectional or of any other kind, but uses to a great extent the machine called an extractor, to which allusion has been already made. More can be obtained by its use than in any other way ; but then it is not honey in the comb, and has not that beautiful and inviting appearance which belongs to well-filled sections.
The extractor--which is also very useful for other purposes--is a very ingenious machine. There are several forms of it, all more or less made after the pattern of those perfected by Mr. Cowan, and in all there is the same principle. The frames, when taken from the hive, have, first of all, the caps of the cells removed with a sharp knife. They are then put into a kind of wire cage (fig. 2), which, being placed in the machine are made to whirl round and round with great rapidity. The effect of this is, that the honey is thrown out of the cells against the sides of the extractor, and running down, can then be drawn away from a tap at the bottom.
The force which brings this about, and throws out the honey; is called 'centrifugal force.' I may illustrate its action in this way.
If you tie a piece of string to a stone, and then, while holding the end of the string in your hand, swing the stone round and round, the stone is always, by action of this same force, trying to fly off. And the faster you swing it round the more the stone makes effort to get free; and if you let it go, it flies a long way. It is much the same with the honey, as the comb which contains it is swung round in the extractor. The difference is that, as the capping is off the cells, the honey can get free--instead of being confined, like the stone by the string--and so is thrown out.
## Chapter 3.1.1 The _More About Swarms_
I have previously described the issue of a swarm, and the state of things within the hive which leads to it--that it is a forced emigration on a large scale. I have also told you how the bee-keeper often obtains artificial instead of natural swarms when, and as he thinks fit. And I need not add much on this subject, except that it must always be remembered that a good, swarm, whether natural or artificial, must be an early one, according to the old saying :--
'A swarm in May is worth a load of hay,
A swarm in June is worth a silver spoon ;
A swarm in July is not worth a fly.'
It is not true, however, that a July swarm is so worthless, for bees are always useful, and such a late swarm, if not returned to its own hive, can be given to some weak hive in want of bees.
Of second swarms, or 'casts,' as they are called, I must say something. When a first swarm departs it leaves behind it a comparatively empty hive, but one that soon will be full again. It also leaves behind it a queen-cell, out of which in a day or two will issue a new sovereign to take the place of the old one who left with the swarm. There is always one such queen-cell--and generally several--at such swarming-time, each containing a young queen. As soon as the first of these young queens comes into the world, her natural instinct is to destroy at once every royal cell and itsinhabitant, and thus to have no rival to herself. Moved by her jealousy, she tries very hard to do this. And if there are not sufficient bees hatched out to furnish another swarm, or if the weather is unpropitious, the worker-bees allow her to carry out her murderous intention, and, indeed, assist her in the work of destruction. Thus she is left supreme. But, on the other hand, if there are plenty of bees, and the hive is again sufficiently strong to spare another swarm, the young queen, first hatched out, is not allowed to carry out her wish. When she tries to get near a queen-cell the workers prevent and drive her away. At this she becomes excessively angry, and makes a peculiar noise, which may distinctly be heard outside the hive. It sounds like 'Peep,' 'Peep,' uttered harsh and shrill. This is heard by some other young queen yet in her cell, and she also joins in with the same sound, so that it becomes like a challenge to battle given from one to another--the other bees preventing the queen at liberty from taking any unfair advantage over her royal sister in the cell.
When this sound is heard it may be taken as a sure sign of a second swarm in a day or two, for the young queen at liberty, not being allowed to destroy her coming rival, makes resolve herself to leave the hive with as many bees as will accompany her. When this takes place it is said to be a 'Cast.'
Sometimes a third or even a fourth swarm will in succession issue from the same hive.* But these latter should always be prevented if possible, because too weakening to the parent stock. If honey is required, even a second swarm must not be allowed. A great harvest of honey can only be had when the bees do not swarm at all.
With skeps the bee-keeper is to a great extent at the mercy of his bees, and cannot well control these second swarms, but with frame-hives they can always's be prevented ; for after the first swarm has left, he can take care that no queen-cells remain in the hive, except just that one which is needed to supply a new queen for the hive itself, and without another queen the bees, of course, cannot leave the hive in a second swarm.
Virgil describes another way of preventing a swarm, namely, by clipping the wings of the queen--sometimes practised even now.
'The task is easy : but to clip the wings
Of their high-flying arbitrary kings :
At their command, the people swarm away :
Confine the tyrant, and the slaves will stay.'
Virgil (by Dryden).
After the first or second swarm has left, if two young queens happen to issue from their cells, as from a third swarm of Syrian bees. The young queens of these races rarely fight, but live amicably together. I have counted fourteen on a single comb, and the worker bees destroy the supernumeraries after the swarm has issued, sometimes taking a week to complete the slaughter. I am not sure that the workers do not delay the destruction until one of the young queens is ready to become a mother--a further proof of their wonderful instinct'--Rev, G, Raynor.
frequently occurs, at the same time, and there are not sufficient bees for another swarm, nothing remains but one of these two rivals must die. They cannot reign together for any length of time. Which is to live, and which is to die? This important question the worker-bees sometimes decide by encasing, and destroying one, and allowing the other to live. But sometimes the queens themselves fight out the matter to the bitter end.
A royal fight has been thus described by Hunter : -- When two queens meet a duel is certain. Like two gladiators, each first takes a good look at her antagonist. Then they rush to the fight. They seize each other by the legs, making with curved abdomen every effort to insert the sting between the rings of the other's body. They wrestle thus, rolling over and over until one succeeds in giving the deadly stroke. It has been stated that if they get in such a position that both are likely to be stung together, they will separate, and commence the fight anew.'
* But when two twin-born monarchs burst to day, Claiming with equal rights a sovereign's sway, Fiercely they rush, unknowing how to yield, Where crowds receding clear the listed field. Mark how with sharp-edg'd tooth they seize the wing, Curl the firm fold, and point the venom'd sting! Now, as they view the death-fraught danger nigh, With quick recoil, and mutual dread they fly, Now, scorn'd all female fears, each hardened foe Turns to the fight, and dares the coming blow.'
*
## Chapter 11 The BEE-KEEPER IN SUMMER.
The swarming season over the bees settle down to summer work, and right merrily does it go on when the weather is favourable, when the warm winds blow, and the sun shines, and the flowers are full of honey.
* Here their delicious task the fervent bees In swarming millions tend ; around, athwart, Through the soft air the busy nations fly, Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube, Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul, And oft, with bold wing, they soaring dare The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.' Thomson's _Seasons._
And now there is plenty of work for the beekeeper as well as the bees. Now is his harvest-time, and he must not neglect his busy workers. Now, more than ever, he must do what is wanted without a day's delay. Success very greatly depends upon everything being done at the proper time. The bee-keeper must'make hay while the sun shines ;' and if he is wise he has prepared things beforehand, and now is ready, as fast as supers are filled, to remove them and to supply others in their place. He will not let his bees remain idle for want of room.
And if he is thus active and careful, and manages well, the quantity of honey he will get, in favourable seasons, is quite astonishing. It is a very common thing to get fifty or sixty pounds of pure good honey in the comb, not only from a single hive, but as an average from all the frame-hives in the apiary. Some experienced bee - keepers take a great deal more than this, even an average of 100 pounds of comb honey, and more of extracted, per hive.*
And all this harvest of honey is of value. If sold it will realise a fair profitable price ; but then it must be carefully taken, and neatly put up for sale. Very much of its value depends upon the clean, attractive form in which it is offered, but of this you will learn elsewhere.
But now once more autumn comes, and it is no longer the time of abundant flowers, and the few flowers there are give but little, if any, honey, except in the heather districts. It is the time when people have their holidays, and the bees think they also may have theirs. But they never take holiday, remember, while they have any work to do. As long as there is honey to be had, and room in which to store it, they will work. And thus it is that many bee-keepers find it most profitable, when ordinary country flowers are over, to take their hives to the heaths, if such are near at hand, for the heather gives beautiful honey, and flowers much later than other honey-giving plants or trees.
At last, however, even the heather is over, and the bees'must rest; and having left nothing to be done at the last moment--as many people do--but having looked forward, and made every preparation, they have both well earned their rest, and can enjoy it.
'Oh, Nature kind! oh, labourer wise!
That roam'st along the summer's ray,
Glean'st ev'ry bliss thy life supplies,
And meet'st prepared thy wintry day.
'Go, envied, go, to crowded gates,
Bear home thy store in triumph gay ;
The hive thy rich return awaits,
To shame each idler of the day.'
The bee-keeper, however, must not quite rest at present, for there is oftentimes much of importance to be done in autumn, especially to those hives which are weak, and short of bees and food, but of all this a guide-book will give information.
There is, however, one operation of which I must here say something, as probably you will frequently hear of it at this autumn season, when it is chiefly practised. It is the operation of 'Driving,' by which the bees in a skep are compelled to come out of their hive, and, leaving all their comb and store behind, to go whither the bee-keeper directs. He knocks at their door. They listen, and with humble submission obey. This sounds marvellous, and indeed appears so to those who for the first time see it done. It calls forth many an exclamatoin of surprise at the bee keeper's power, and of this it is a good exhibition ; but, at the same time, there can be a great deal of
good bee-keeping without any driving ; and with framesives it is never practised. The process is as follows :-A few puffs of smoke are given to the bees in -a sleep. It is then turned upside down, and placed in some position (very often in a pa round top) where it is firmly secured. An empty skep is then fastened to it, as you see in the illustration, and the operator, with both his hands, or two short thick pieces of wood, begins to rap upon the outside of the hive, giving steady blows, sufficient to jar the combs without any danger of breaking them.
This goes on for a few minutes, when the bees become in a state of great agitation, and are seen crowding up to the place where the two hives are joined together. Then in a few moments more they begin to run up into the empty hive, and very soon are rushing up in hundreds with the greatest haste. And now the sharp-sighted operator will see, and, if wanted, be able to capture the queen herself, as, amidst her subjects, she joins in the general rush.
Well, but what is the use of driving? As I have said, it is of no use with frame-hives, but with skeps it is often very useful. In the first place, it is a means by which the honey can be obtained from a skep without killing the bees. And then, amongst other uses, it is the means by which in spring-time skeps can be made to give swarms when and how the bee-keeper wishes ; and in autumn it is invaluable in the saving of much precious bee-life, for if the bee-keeper has any neighbours who still cling to the old-fashioned plan of destroying their bees for the sake of the honey, he will persuade them, instead of using the sulphur-pit, to allow him to drive the bees, and to take them home, to join with the bees in his own apiary. He will sometimes even preserve these rescued bees in hives of their own, giving them comb and food, in place of what they had gathered for themselves.
During winter there will be little for the bekeeper to do, and he may'leave well alone.' But then he must have nade due preparation for winter, and, if he has done this, he has taken care to put extra coverings of flannel, with, perhaps, cushions of chaff, on the top of the frames. He has also well packed with chaff or cork-dust the spaces between the two walls of his hives. He will also have taken away some of the frames, and contracted the space in each hive according to the strength of the colony and the number of bees, taking care that the bees fill all the space left them. By all these and such-like means he makes the most of that heat which is necessary to the well-being of the hive.
' Thy bee-hives, whether hollowing out of cork
Thou join'st them, or with rods of osier wearest,
Construct with narrow orifice ; for cold
Contracts the honey.'
The bees have wonderful power to produce and sustain warmth, and to keep the temperature of the hive uniform, but, of course, if there are large vacant spaces containing cold air, and these have to be warmed, as well as the other portions of the interior, there must be great and unnecessary expenditure of heat-producing power, and this means, in other words, a great and unnecessary consumption of food, for with bees, as with ourselves, food is the great means by which the heat of the body is sustained. But as this is a very important subject it will be well to devote a separate chapter to its consideration.
## Chapter 5 The connection between food and warmth.
Tie food we eat partly gives us flesh, and partly gives us warmth. It is within us as fuel for what may be called a fire, which, when supplied with fresh air, gives heat to every part of our bodies ; and then, if this is so, we can understand that the greater the exertion we make, or the work we do, the more food will be necessary--just as when a train has to go express pace it must have the fire of its engine heaped up with more and more coal. If the fire gets low, and the boiler cold, the train stops. So, when we walk fast and work hard, unless our bodies are properly supplied with the food which replenishes what is 'lost of both flesh and heat, we become exhausted and waste away, and, if it went on, there would at last be the coldness of death.
Thus the Greenlander, in his very cold climate, and with his very hard work, has need of a vast amount of food, and will eat a quantity of flesh, fat, and oil, which we should think enormous. On the other hand, the natives of the hot climate of India will be satisfied with very much less food -- a simple diet of rice, which we should think quite insufficient.
Again, following out the same great law of life, some animals, which are not able to obtain supplies of their proper food in winter, creep into the warmest spot they can find, and there, as it is termed,'hibernate,'--curl up and go to sleep, and remain perfectly quiet until spring-time comes again. Remaining thus at rest, there is no waste of heat, and all the heat which is needed is obtained from the flesh and fat of the body itself, which becomes during the time more and more exhausted. The bear, which thus hibernates, is at the beginning of the time fat and in good condition, but at the end poor and thin. By keeping perfectly still it has not wasted heat, and it has given up its own fat as fuel for the so-called fire,--its-thick fur coat keeping the heat in.
And all this is true of the bee. The bee, however, does not truly hibernate, although, all through winter, it keeps close within, and remains as quiet as possible. Its condition is that of semi-hibernation. And this quietness, coupled with the number of bees crowded together, means plenty of heat. And the greater the number of bees, and the less the space in which they are, means more heat, and this greater heat, thus produced, and thus sustained, causes less food to be consumed.
When there are but few bees, and much empty space with cold air, the poor bees in severe weather, instead of keeping quiet, have to exert themselves, by motion of their wings, in order to give out sufficient heat for the hive, and this, of course, as I have explained, requires the consumption of great quantities of food. Thus when there are few bees, and considerable empty space in the hive, the honey supplies are consumed faster than when there are more bees and less space.
You see thus the reason of what I have describedas the proper management of bees in winter, or rather the preparation to be made for winter--plenty of bees, plenty of food, and warm covering, and no more space than is necessary. Attend to these great principles, and then leave the bees in winter to themselves.
But if it is necessary thus to keep in all the heat possible, perhaps you will ask,'Shall we close up the entrance, and thus shut out all cold air?' Oh, no! most certainly not. By doing that you would most assuredly kill all the bees ; you may contract the size of the entrance, but some amount of fresh air is absolutely necessary. It is indeed by help of fresh air, or the oxygen, as it is termed, in the air, that the animal heat is sustained. The flame of a candle put under a glass case very soon goes out for want of fresh air. Shut off all air from the largest fire, and it will soon cease to burn. And it is the same with ourselves : we cannot live if shut up in a small space without any fresh air. And even in a large room, if it is crowded with people, the windows must be open, or there must be ventilation in some way ; and, to a great extent, it is the same with the bees. They must have some ventilation even in winter.
In crowded rooms it is best, because all heated air rises, to open windows high up in the walls rather than those low down ; and in some circumstances hives require the same principle carried out. But, generally speaking, the woollen coverings put over the frames will answer every purpose.
The Bee-keeper in spring.