BEE-spoke-data/bees-v0 huggingface dataset:
**In the rendering of wax, there is an excellent reason, which will be given later, for rendering theappings separately from the old combs.** **Atpresent I will describe the work of rendering the cappings separately from the old combs. Put a pair of clean, soft water into a No. 9 wash boiler, and set it over a slow fire. Fill the boiler full of cappings; and, as they melt down, add more, until the boiler is as full as it can be handled conveniently--say, within two inches of the top. If the cappings are broken up fine they will melt much quicker. My cappings are all stored in cracker or sugar barrels. I throw a barrel into a box that will hold five or six bushels, take an old \(\,\)are and cut off the hoops and remove the staves, then chop up the cappings with a spade.**
**We will suppose that you have a boiler of wax on the stove. See to it that the fire is not too hot. If you** _have_ **a hot fire, leave the griddles on the stove under the boiler. Keep the lumps broken up with a long paddle--a barrel stave will answer--and keep constantly in mind that the wax should** _never be allowed to boil._ **Just as soon as the last chunk is melted, slide the boiler off the stove, upon a barrel or box arranged the same height as the stove. The wax is now ready for the press. See that the press-screw is clear up out of the way, and the galvanized iron pan (with the spout end) is in place. Next put in one of the slated frames, then the form, over which spread a 30-inch, square piece of burlap of the thin, open kind. Press the burlap down into the form, set a galvanized iron washtub under the spout (you will need three or four of these tubs) then, with a large dipper, having a long handle, dip the wax from the boiler to the press. By the way, it is not necessary to put all of the melted wax through the press. With a little care all of the slum gum can be dipped off the top, leaving quite a quantity of wax, water and honey that can be emptied directly into the tub. When the form has been filled, take hold of the two opposite sides of the burlap, and move it up and down; then do the same with the two other sides. This works most of the water and wax through the burlap, out of the way, so that we can handle the slum gum to better advantage.**
**We will suppose that nearly all of the wax is out that will come out without pressure; take hold of the burlap on two opposite sides, bring them together with a good lap, and pin with a ten penny nail;then handle the two remaining sides in the same manner. Next remove the form, and put another rack on the top, the same as was used underneath. Now put on the follower and add the screw-pressure. When the wax stops running, loosen up the screw, give the cheese a half turn, and add more pressure. If you have done a good job there will not be a _particle_ of wax left in the slum gum. One pressure is all that is necessary for a boiler full of cappings; but with old combs four or five times may be required. Always keep in mind that the less slum gum put into the press the more perfectly can it be freed from wax.
It will be noticed that the honey and wax have never been brought to the boiling point, hence the honey has not been injured for the making of vinegar; and after the wax has cooled and been taken off in a cake, the honey and water may be emptied into an open-end barrel. After it has stood over night, or until the sediment has settled, skim, and dip off the top, and the sweetened water thus secured is as good material for making vinegar as it is possible to secure; while every ounce of wax has been removed from the cappings. The sweetened water thus secured is _too_ sweet for the making of vinegar, but more soft water may be added and the vinegar made in the usual way. This is why we do not render old, black, brood combs at the same time that we melt up the cappings.
The same boiler is used for clarifying the wax. After a little cleaning around the upper edge, put in a pair of water, then fill with the wax as it comes from the press, only be particular to chop it up fine. Any chunks larger than two inches in diameter should be chopped up with the axe, as we wish to melt it with the _least possible heat_. As in the first melting, the chunks are kept broken apart with a paddle. Give a little more time for the wax to melt rather than have it boil; and just the moment that it is all melted, slide it off the stove the same as before, cover up with two or three thicknesses of blankets, andlet it stand until there are signs of its caking around the edges. Usually, four or five hours are enough time for the impurities to settle to the bottom, After skimming the wax, it is ready to dip off and cake. Clean your long handled dipper, and with it dip off the wax into flaring-top, tin pails. Don't make the mistake of putting any water into the pails. There is a little knack about dipping out the wax in such a way as not to disturb the sediment any more than is possible. Don't think of dipping right in, just as though you were dipping water, but drop the side of the dipper into the wax, say, three-fourths of an inch, then carefully sink the _bottom_ of the dipper down into the wax, always keeping the _top_ edge near the surface of the wax. By dipping in this manner, it is surprising to see how close one can dip to the sediment without disturbing it. Stop dipping as soon as signs of sediment appear in the dipper, and what is left in the boiler can go into the next melting. Let me repeat: If you wish for nice, soft, pliable was, that is so much in demand in the markets, _don't care allow your stock to boil_ in any process of rendering."
For cleaning any utensils that are daubed up with wax, use a cloth saturated with benzine. Benzine will dissolve wax much as water will dissolve sugar.
For some mysterious reason, sulphuric acid will cleanse or clarify beeswax that is brown, or black, or almost any color, bringing it back to a nice, bright yellow. The beekeeper who renders his wax according to the methods here described, will probably have no need for using acids, but those who buy wax for making into foundation find the use of the acid almost indispensible. A kettle or some other vessel, is filled perhaps one-third full of water, and then filled up with cakes of wax. By the use of steam, or by setting the vessel on a stove, the wax is melted, when acid is added at the rate of about one pint of acid to 12 gallons of water. Soon after the acid is poured in, the wax will be seen to change to a lighter hue, when the heat may be stopped, and the sediment allowed to settle, after which the pure wax can be dipped of the top. If a metal vessel is used, it must be thoroughly washed after use, and it would be well to rub it over with grease to prevent any further action of the acid.
The Relation of Food to the Wintering of Bees.
N the Southern States, and other places not blessed with a stern winter, where bees can enjoy frequent flights, it matters little what the food is, so long as it is not actually poisonous. By this is meant that any kind of sweet like sugar, honey, or even honey dew, will answer as food. In these mild climates, little or no protection is needed; but, as higher latitudes are reached, chaff-packed hives, or their equivalent, are needed, and there must be some care exercised in regard to food. As we journey still further from the equator, it is only " cellars and the best of food that bring forth uniform results.
It has been asserted that honey is the "natural" food of bees, and that nothing can be gained by substituting something else. It must be remembered that the "natural" home of the bee is that of a warm climate, where there are no long spells of confinement caused by continued cold. Honey is, of course, the "natural" food of bees, but this fact does not prevent their dying sometimes as the result of its consumption, when a diet of can sugar would have saved their lives.
In my opinion, food is the pivotal point upon which turns the wintering of bees in our Northern States. Food is the fulcrum, and temperature the long end of the lever. The whole question in a nut shell is just this: The loss of bees in winter, aside from that caused by diarrhea, is not worth mentioning. It is _diarrhea_ that kills our bees. What causes it? An overloading of the intestines, with no opportunity of emptying them. Cold confines the bees to their hives. The greater the cold the larger are the quantities of food consumedto keep up the animal heat. The more food there is consumed, the sooner are the intestines overloaded. A moment's reflection will make it clear that the character of the food consumed has an effect upon the accumulation in the intestines. In the digestion of cane sugar there is scarcely any residue. Honey is usually quite free from nitrogenous matter, being well supplied with oxygen, and, when practically free from floating grains of pollen, is generally a very good and safe winter-food; although not as good as properly prepared sugar syrup, which never contains nitrogen, but possesses more oxygen. The excreta from diarrhetic bees is almost wholly pollen grains, in a digested or partly digested state, with a slight mixture of organic matter. What overloads the intestines of the bees is this nitrogenous matter which they consume, either as grains of pollen floating in the honey, or by eating the bee bread itself.
Repeated experiments have proved beyond a doubt that, as a winter food for bees, cane sugar has no superior. With this as an exclusive diet, bees never die with the dysentery; and, if kept in a temperature ranging from 35 to 42 degrees, they are all but certain to winter successfully. This being the case, the question naturally follows, why not take away the honey in the fall, and feed the bees sugar? One objection to the use of sugar, as a winter food, is that every pond of sugar so used puts one more pond of honey on the market. Another objection is that the bee-keeper is thereby compelled to pay out money for sugar, while he may have on hand a crop of honey that is meeting with slow sale. Some object to its use on the ground that it lends color to the cry of "adulteration." Perhaps the greatest objection is the labor of extracting the honey and feeding the sugar.
Let's consider these objections. The use of sugar as a winter food for bees unquestionably does put a little more honey on the market, but this ought not to weigh so very heavily against the certainty of wintering the bees. Neither need there be any labor of extracting the honey in the fall, if the summer management has been conducted with a view to feeding sugar in the fall. By contraction of the brood nest nearly all of the honey may be forced into the supers, leaving the brood combs nearly empty at the end of the season. It only remains to feed the bees, and, with proper feeders (the Heddon, for instance), tin cans, and oil stoves for making the syrup, feeding is neither a long nor a tedious task. What little honey remains in the corners of the combs is not likely to be consumed until spring, when frequent flights will prevent all troubles that might arise from its consumption. In regard to causing the public to believe that by some hocus pocus the sugar that is fed gets into the surplus, no one need know of the feeding, except it might be in some cases, an immediate neighbor, and the bee-keeper ought to enjoy his neighbor's confidence to that degree that the exact truth can be told him, and it will be believed. As in regard to the increased amount of honey that the use of sugar as winter stores puts upon the market, so any possible talk about adulteration is overbalanced by the certainty of carrying the bees through the winter.
If the feeding is done early enough so that the bees will have time to work the honey over and ripen it, no heat will be needed in making the syrup; simply stir into cold water all of the sugar that it will dissolve, feed it to the bees, and they will reduce it to the proper consistency; and, by the addition of their secretions, change the case sugar into grape sugar, thus practically making it into honey. If fed too late something may be necessary to prevent the granulation of the syrup. For this purpose I never found anything better than honey--from 10 to 20 per cent, is sufficient. September is early enough to feed; but, when feeding has been neglected until it is so late and the weather so cool that the bees will not leave the cluster and go into the feeder, it may be managed, as explained in the chapter on feeding, by filling the feeder with hot syrup and placing it _under_ the hive. The heat from the syrup will warm up and arouse the bees, when they will come down and carry up the feed.
But all can not, or may not wish to, use sugar for winter stores, and many do not _need_ to use sugar to insure the successful wintering of their bees. There is a great difference in localities regarding the character of the honey. Where one has successfully pursued the same course year after year, it is doubtful if a change would be desirable; but what shall the man do who loses heavily nearly every winter, yet can not, or will not use sugar? Possibly he can so manage that his winter stores are secured from a different source. Mr. O. O. Poppleton takes the ground that the best winter stores come from the most bountiful yields. It is possible that there is something in this, bountiful yields of any crop are usually of fine quality, but I know of at least one locality where the fall flow of honey is always the most abundant, and I might almost say _always_ abundant, yet so surely will it kill bees that the most extensive bee-keeper in that locality, after an experience of many years, kills his bees in the fall rather than attempt to winter them on this honey by _any_ method.
But bee-keepers can do this: Notice if any particular kind of honey is more likely to cause trouble, and then avoid its use as winter stores. Part of the bees may be protected upon the summer stands, and part put into the cellar. In a warm, open winter, the bees out of doors will stand the better chance; in a severe winter the odds will be in favor of the cellar--and their owner must take his chances.
the bees came through in pretty fair condition. In severe winters the bees in the outside spaces, or ranges of combs, died first; the cluster became smaller; the bees in more ranges died; and, by spring, all were dead, or the colony so reduced in numbers, and the survivors so lacking in vitality, as to be practically worthless.
I have never seen any ill effects from dampness, but I have always given abundant ventilation above the packing. When the warm air from the cluster passes up through the packing, and is met by the cold, outer air, some condensation of moisture takes place. This moistens the surface of the packing, but it remains comparatively dry underneath. With a good strong colony of bees, and ventilation above the packing, I have never known trouble from moisture.
In the giving of protection, chaff hives have the advantage of always being ready for winter, and of doing away with the labor and untidiness of packing and unpacking; but they are expensive and cumbersome. It is some work to pack bees in the fall, and to unpack them again in the spring, but light, single-wall, readily movable hives during the working season are managed with enough less labor to more than compensate for that of packing and unpacking. Then there is another point: The work of packing and unpacking comes when there is comparative leisure, while the extra work caused by great, unwieldy hives, comes at a time when the beekeeper is working on the keen jump.
For packing material I have used wheat chaff, forest leaves, planer shavings and dry sawdust. I have never used cork-dust, but it is probably the best packing material. Its non-conductivity is nearly twice that of chaff, while it never becomes damp. The only objection is that it is not readily obtainable, and usually costs something, while the other substances mentioned cost nothing. What they lack in non-conductivity can be made up in quantity. And this brings up the point of the proper thickness of packing. I have often thrust my hand into the packing surrounding a populous colony of bees, and found the warmth perceptible at a distance of four inches from the side, and six inches from the top. This would seem to indicate the thickness when sawdust or chaff is used. I presume that packing has been condemned when it was not more than half done--that is, when not enough material is used. I don't appreciate the arguments of those who advocate the use of _thin_ packing. I don't believe that the benefit of the heat from the sun during an occasional bright day, can compensate for the lack of protection during _months_ of extreme cold.
Hollow walls with no packing have had their advocates; and it has been asked if these dead (?) air spaces were not equally as good non-conductors of heat as those filled with chaff. They are not. In the first place, the air is not "dead;" it is constantly moving. The air next the inside wall becomes warn and rises; that next the outer wall cools and settles; thus there is a constant circulation that robs the inner wall of its heat.
If chaff hives are not used, how shall the packing be kept in place? I know of nothing better than boxes made made of cheap lumber. If there is lack of room for storing them in summer, they can be made so as to be easily "knocked down," and stacked up when not in use. Of course, bees can be packed more cheaply by setting the hives in long rows, building a long box about them, and filling it with the material used for packing. With this method the packing ought to be postponed until it is so late that the bees are not likely to fly again until they have forgotten their old locations; else some of the bees will be lost, or some of the colonies get more than their share of bees. When they have a "cleansing flight" in winter, there is also a likelihood of some bees returning to the wrong hive. Then, when the bees are unpacked in the spring, there is more confusion and mixing; but I don't look upon this as so very serious a matter. At this time of the year, other things being equal, a bee is worth just as much in one hive as in another. If there is any difference in the strength of colonies, the weaker ones might be left nearest to where the bees were unpacked.
Speaking of being compelled to wait about packing the bees until they are not likely to fly again until some time in the winter, reminds me that advantages have been claimed for _early_ packing; that bees in single-wall hives only wear themselves out with frequent flights that are to no purpose, while those that are packed are not called out by every passing ray of sunshine; that the early-packed bees sooner get themselves settled down for their winter's map, and are in better condition for winter when it comes. It is possible that there is something in this, but there were two or three years in which I tried packing a colony or two as early as the first of September, and I continued to pack a colony every two or three days until the fore part of November, and I was unable to discern any advantage in very early packing. If the bees are protected before freezing weather comes, I believe that is enough.
There is one other point that ought not to be neglected in preparing the bees for winter, whether in-doors or out, and that is the leaving of a space below the combs. When wintered out of doors there ought to be a rim two inches high placed under each hive,This not only allows the dead bees to drop away from the combs to a place where they will dry up instead of moulding between the combs, but if there is an entrance cut in the _upper_ edge of the rim, there will be no possibility of its becoming clogged. This empty space under the combs seems to have a wonderful influence in bringing the bees through in fine condition, and I am not certain _only_.
Weak colonies can seldom be wintered successfully out of doors. They cannot generate sufficient heat. In the cellar, where the temperature seldom goes below 40 degrees, quite weak colonies can be successfully wintered.
As I understand it, this whole matter of out-door wintering of bees might be summed up in a few words: Populous colonies; plenty of _good_ food and _thorough_ protection. Simple, isn't it? Yet there is a world of meaning wrapped up in those few words.
The Ventilation of Bee Cellars.
EARS ago, "sub-earth" ventilation of bee cellars was almost universally recommended. Nearly every one who built a bee cellar, also buried 200 or 300 feet of drain-tile; the outer end connecting with the open air, and the inner end entering the cellar. To remove the air_from_ the cellar, a pipe, connecting with a stove pipe in the room above, extended down through the floor to within a few inches of the cellar bottom. The draft of the stove pipe "pulled up" the air from the cellar, and more flowed in through the sub-earth pipe to take its place. In passing through the sub-earth pipe, the air was warmed. If there was no stove pipe with which to connect the outlet pipe, it was extended upwards until it reached the open air. The air in the cellar, being warmer than the outside air, flowed out of the upper ventilator, and more air flowed in through the sub-earth tube.
In order to keep the temperature even, there was much opening and closing of the ventilating tubes. In very severe weather, it was often necessary to leave the openings closed several days, or even weeks. At such times it was noticed that the bees suffered no inconvenience. Not only this, but it was often noticed that when the ventilators were opened, the in-rush of fresh, cool air aroused the bees and made them uneasy. Finally, the ventilators were opened less and less, and, at last, they were left closed all of the time.
The amount of air needed by bees varies greatly according to circumstances. When they are excited and full of honey, as is the case with a swarm, the amount of air needed is very great. If they can be kept quiet, a very little air will suffice. In winter the bees are in a semi-dormant state, one closely bordering on hibernation,as that word is properly understood, and the amount of air necessary for their maintenance is very slight. I believe it was Mr. D. L. Adair who, years ago, removed a box of surplus honey from a hive, and, leaving the bees in possession, pasted several layers of paper over the entrance. As all of the cracks and crevices were stopped with propolis, the box was practically air-tight. The bees were kept confined several days, yet did not, apparently, suffer for want of air. Mr. James Heddon tells of some man who, wishing to "take-up" some of his colonies in the fall, plastered up the entrances with blue clay, expecting to kill the bees by suffocation. Upon opening the hives a few days later, imagine the discomiture of their owner at seeing the bees fly right merrily. I have several times wintered bees successfully in "clamps" where the bees were buried under two feet of frozen earth. Prof A. J. Cook even went so far as to hermetically seal up two colonies by throwing water over the hives and allowing it to freeze, thus forming a coating of ice over the hives. The bees survived this treatment. It is not likely that, in any of these experiments, the coverings surrounding the bees were absolutely air tight, but enough is proven to show that, in winter, bees can survive, and, apparently thrive, with a very limited amount of air.
Special ventilation, simply for the sake of securing fresher or purer air, seems to be almost wholly unnecessary; the few bee-keepers who plead for special ventilation do so almost wholly upon the ground that they can thereby more readily control the temperature. If the repository is sufficiently under the ground, it does not seem as though ventilation would be very much needed for controlling the temperature, unless it might be towards spring when the bees had commenced breeding, and a large number of colonies were in the cell.