BEE-spoke-data/bees-v0 huggingface dataset:
There is no doubt the instinct of swarming is not a sudden impulse, but notwithstanding that, De Reuumur has assured us the immediate cause of swarming remains doubtful and obscure. Practical and scientific observation has robbed it of its doubtfulness and obscurity. The bar-frame hives of to-day have drawn aside the veil of mystery and thrown wide open the door for investigation, so that the merest novice may ascertain the fact that the earlier scientists yearned for but died without the knowledge. The great Teacher said: "Now learn a parable of the fig-tree : When his branch is yet tender and putteth forth leaves ye know that summer is nigh." Now learn a parable of bee life : When the fruit-trees putteth forth their tender blossom buds you know that spring is nigh ; and when the bees are seen hurrying home with their thighs packed with spring pollen you know that the swarming instinct is nigh ; and when you look into your hives and see queen cells developing you know that swarming is even at your door. Now learn another parable : When the tender grass blade shoots forth, and insects and other poultry food become plentiful, you know that the laying season for your hen is nigh ; and when she has been laying for some time, and remains on the nest longer than usual you know that her sitting time is nigh ; and after she has been sitting twenty-one days you will expect the chicken at your door.
Are not the parables of the bees and the hen parallel or analogous, the one of the other? The seasons and the local and natural conditions combined were suitable, and these produced the laying conditions, the brooding instinct, and the maternal love of offspring until these latter were capable of shifting for themselves. It was not because the hen-house was too small that the hen commenced to lay, sit, and hatch; that would militate against it. So the seasons aud the blossoming of honey and pollen-producing plants, etc., cause the swarming instinct to take hold of the bees. It is Nature's way of guarding against the extinction of the race.
With bee-keepers swarming is always spoken of under two heads--natural and artificial. I am only dealing with the former. I much prefer a natural swarm to one produced artificially. The conditions attending a natural swarm are far more satisfactory. To my mind bee-keeping is robbed of a large percentage of its interest when no swarms issue forth. The delight of witnessing the swarm hurrying pell-nell from the parent hive; the tinkling of the tin kettle, antiquated now in good bee-keeping society, following the vagabonds, the houseless wanders hither and tither full of expectation as to where they will alight; the joy of listening to the calling of the wanderers home to the alighting bush; the picturesque sight of the increasing and clustering swarm hanging pendulously from the tiny twig of leaflets; the pleasure, at one time highly seasoned with fear, of shaking them into the straw hive for their new home; the frequent visits during the day to see that all is well; at nightfall wrapping them in cloth to carry them home; the placing of then on the stand with care and caution; and the following days of superintendence--are pleasures of my early bee-keeping days that will never be blotted from my memory. Even now such experiences are full of interest to amateur bee-keepers, and give rise to feelings that artificial swarming never produce; but then artificial swarming is for profit and not pleasure.
Who shall draw the line of demarcation between the swarming instinct and the swarming intelligence of bees? They have no infallible rule as to when they shall swarm. The season may be propitious, the swarm may be strong and healthy, the young queens may be in the cells ready to emerge, and the workers' honey-sacs filled for the anticipated journey, but let the weather change to unfavourable conditions, all the preparations will come to an end and so remain in abeyance until the weather is more suitable for the requirements of swarming. As a rule, on the morning prior to the swarm issuing forth, peace and quietness reigns at home, and there are few bees going abroad foraging. The incentive to swarming are those natural ones herein mentioned.
## Chapter 14 SWARM catching, HIVING, and TRANSFERING.
Perhaps the one stage in bee-keeping that requires the least protection and a minimum of courage is "swarm-catching"--that is, taking natural swarms after they have alighted in a cluster on a bush or other object they have chosen for the purpose. To me it is one of the most interesting sights in Nature to watch a swarm leaving the parent stock, rising on the wing, and performing beautiful, may evolutions like a country dance mid-air, to the accompaniment of a soft, melodious, gentle hum, so indicative of peace, goodwill, and enjoyment at the prospect of establishing a successful home of their own; the main body keeping up these beautiful movements whilst the scouts are flying hither and thither in search of a suitable spot on which to alight; and then to see them hasten to a bush in thousands, and threading in and out amongst the foliage, now here, then there, until the scouts trumnet forth the call to assemble. I have never yet discovered that call, but it must be well known to the bees: for when the spot on which to alight is found, and the call made, you will see all the bees that are on the wing head towards it, even those that form the most distant circle.
When the place of assemblage is found, what a change takes place in their song! from the gentle, peaceful hum to one of eess-tatic delight. Note again, if the bees have made up their mind to go farther a new home, there will be a change in their movements and in their song. Instead of making easy, graceful movements to and fro, the whole swarm will become agitated, the scouts will be called in, and their song becomes one of great disappointment, not to them, but to you, when you see your cherished hope rising in the air like a solid mass, and with a sharp cry and rapid movement they make for--you know not where. 'But,'' you say, ''1 was given to un?erstand that bees were always led by the queen--that she gave the call, and directed their movements;--is not that why they beat the tom-tom or ring the frying-pan with the door-key?'' Not a bit of it. That is an old superstition, grown out of a custom declaring the ownershipof a swarm of bees when on the wing. It was equal to the ringing of a bell and saying, "This is to give notice these bees belong to me." I have more than once seen the queen on a leaf some feet from where the swarm was clustering. I have seen her parading to and fro on a rail while the swarm was clustering on the post, the bees paying not the slightest attention to her. At other times I have seen her alight on the cluster and burrow in amongst them. Evidently she had been on the wing for some time after the main body had settled.
When bees have once clustered they are in the best of tenper : you may do almost what you like with them. Frequently, to prove to onlookers the ease and freedom from danger with which you can handle bees under such circumstances, I have bared my arm and passed my hand through to the other side of them. To do so your movements must be slow and gentle. Try it ; but, in doing so, don't forget, "Be gentle."
If bee-keeping be indulged in as a hobby, artificial swarming robs it of one of its most interesting and fascinating features.
As a rule, early spring swarms do not abscond on the day they leave the parent hive. Sometimes they will hang for days to the place where they first settled. Early swarms cluster low. The reason is not far to seek. It is the old, pregnant queen that issues forth with the early swarms. She is heavy, and the workers know it. Sometimes bees cluster in the most inaccessible places ; against a wall, in the cleft in a log or stump, in between the forks of trees; from such places you cannot shake then. It is under such conditions as these that the amateur's courage and patience are put to the test. How can they be dislodged and put into a box prior to hiving? Sometimes you may dislodge them with smoke. The most effectual way is to remove them with the hand. Place the receiving-box as near to the bees as you can ; on the ground is best. Then scoop them up in handfuls, placing the first few handfuls on the ground. Put the receiver over them, resting on a small stone with room enough to give access ; then throw other handfuls near the entrance to the box. When you see those you have placed on the ground freely enter the box, those bees you have left behind will soon follow. But if you are present when the bees are on the wing, all this may be avoided : "Provention is better than cure." When you see the bees have chosen a place of settlement from which it will be difficult to dislodge them, take a leafy bough and quietly move it up and down over the site chosen. They will soon forsake it for one better adapted to your purpose ; if not, repeat the action.
If they have chosen a leafy bush on which to settle, boxing them is easily enough done. Place the receiving-box directly under the cluster of bees, mouth upwards ; give the bough a sudden jerk ; the bees will fall in and around the box. Then turn it over, with the bees in it--of course some will fall out resting on three little stones. The bees will at once begin entering it ; but should they return to the bough, wait till about half are clustered, and shake them again.
Sometimes they are so indiscreet as to select a bough high up out of reach. It is then the swarm-catcher comes in very handy, as will be seen by the illustrations. To your swarm-catcher have other portions, so as to lengthen it. These can be made like a jointed fishing-rod, each portion having a ferrule on one end. When the bees are so situated, let them well cluster before you use the catcher. Raise the catcher to the swarm till it surrounds them ; then, with a sudden jerk, shake them into it. Let it rest for a while somewhere in the locality where the bees clustered. The bees on the wing will soon join those within the catcher. Having secured your bees in the receiving-box--that is, when a half or two-thirds are settled therein--lose no time in removing the box a few yards away. The bees that have gone back to the o'd spot--and some hundreds of them will be sure to do so--and those that are on the wing, will soon find it and enter it more freely and much sooner than if it be permitted to remain where they were first shaken.
When the bees are well settled in the receiving-box, don't be too particular if a few hundreds are on the wing; it won't matter. Take them to the hive that is to be their permanent home. Always have an untenanted hive, properly fitted up with starters (strips of foundation comb attached to the top bar of each frame), and put in position so that all the frames will hang perfectly plumb. Remove the cover of the hive and also the quit : space the frames--don't be too particular just now--bring over the bees in the receiving-box, and tumble them pell-nell on top of the frames (you will see how by referring to the illustrations of transferring, p. 101). As soon as they are thrown on to the frames they will begin to descend in a moving mass into the hive. Pick up the quilt, place it over the bees that are resting on the frames--it won't injure them--put four stones, one on each corner of it, to keep it from blowing away, and then leave them alone for some hours. Don't wait till night, or even the twilight, as is usual, to do all this. There is no advantage in it that I have ever discovered; but, on the contrary, the bees may abscond if not soon lived. If you have not time to attend to all this, that is another thing. In that case remove the box with the bees to the shade of a bush, or in some way protect them from the direct sunlight, and leave them till you have time. Under no circumstances should the bees be allowed to remain in the box too long. As soon as they have taken possession of a place they at once begin to work. I have seen them, when they have been hanging on a bush or elsewhere for a few hours, leave their mark behind them in the form of small bits of comb attached to where they hung. Before turning in for the night, remove the stones from the quilt and replace the lid of the hive; it will protect them from rain should a shower come on.
On the marrow remove the lid of the hive and the quilt, and havc a look at the bees. They are just as quiet to-day as they were yesterday when they were clustered. Note how much room they occupy. If you have not bees enough to fill the whole hive, and it is not likely you will, close them in with a division board, and increase their home as required. It is always a disadvantage to you and the bees for them to have too much room to work in; the reason will be given further on.
If the bees do not appear to take to their home, from some cause unknown to you, or perhaps even to themselves, put in a frame of comb with young brood in it. There will be no absorbing after that.
For some reason, bees when swarming take a special fancy to alight on the same spot chosen by a former swarm. My neighbour has a stunted lemon-tree trying to grow in his yard, and for years past the majority of swarms have selected that lemon-tree as a place of rendezvous. Undoubtedly bees leave behind them an odour easily recognised by their brethren of another hive. This may be taken advantage of, and provision made to meet your bees at such spots. Knowing this trait in their swarming habits, some bee-keepers have turned it to advantage by putting up one or more boxes to serve as decoys. For this purpose they use an ordinary candle-box with one side removed, the remaining sudes being pierced with inch auger-holes; it is then fastened to a long, fairly light rod. When the bees are on the wing, this 'decoybox"' is held up amongst them. If a swarm has once entered it there is not much trouble to induce others to do so again. I have known a German bee-keeper use such boxes with great success, and as an additional attractive inducement pin a dead queen therein. I have not proved that there are any virtues in the latter to attract a swarm.
I have mentioned in these pages several appliances in connection with swarming. You will find that a box to shake them into from the place where they first alight, and to remove them in to their permanent home, the only thing really necessary, and the catcher when the bees settle high in the trees.
The advance swarms of the season are, almost without an exception, numerically strong, and give far more satisfaction to the bee-keeper than late ones. As a rule, fairly early swarms will again throw off swarms late in the season. The only way to obtain strong swarms is to prepare for such in the previous autumn. Put the bees up for the winter with all the adjuncts that will keep that end in view. These adjuncts may be briefly summed up in a few words: hives proof against cold and damp: the swarm strengthened to its uttemost; and food supplied to carry then well on to the spring.
To accomplish this should be the aim of the bee-keeper at all times. The only thing that will mar his success will be the seasons. These he cannot control; but all the adjuncts referred to are in his power.
Last-season's quecns are more disposed to swarm, or are more frequently seized with the swarming impulse, than are the second swarms or casts. These are always accompanied by quecns of the season. It is these swarms that issue forth from the first swarms of the season technically termed "maiden swarms"--that give the bee-keeper a lot of trouble. It is not far to go to understand the reason of these maiden swarms giving so much trouble. Queens that come forth with the spring swarms are at the least from eight to twelve months old. During the previous season these quecns laid eggs that produced female or working bees only. These last year's quecns are in a condition to lay drone-producing eggs. The production of drones acts as a stimulus for queen production. Where an old queen is lived in a bar-franed live where foundation-starters only are used, there will always be found a superabundance of drone-cells constructed. With the second swarms or casts it is not so. The combs built by these are constructed of small-sized cells (workers').
A bee-keeper's ideal should be, as far as possible, to prevent swarming. The building of comb and the preparation for swarming are two luxuries that bees delight to indulge in ; but they are far too expensive for the bee-keeper's profits, because both comb-constructing and swarm-producing are carried on at the expense of the honey stores. It must be remembered that these after or maiden swarms, and also casts, are largely made up of young bees that have seen very little field labour, and the withdrawal of these from an established colony is a heavy drain on the labour market of the aforesaid colony ; whereas, if they can be kept as inmates of what I may term their own home, they will add to the exchequer of their owner.
A mercantile person would consider cent. per cent. a superb profit for business purposes, and a sheep or cattle farmer would rejoice at a hundredfold as the increase of his stock for the year ; and so should a bee-keeper.
As there are mechanical aids to produce swarming, so there are mechanical aids to prevent it. Of course, if the bee-keeper's ideal is in obtaining a large number of hives of bees, then he should husband all casts and after-swarms; but, I must repeat, it can only be done at the expense of his honey profit. True, it is possible, in a very short space of time, to increase an apiary to some hundreds of colonies by means of natural and artificial swarming, providing the locality will carry such a stock as it regards honey-producing plants. Even if some of the colonies of this extensive increase be weak, with proper,management they can be brought up to the required strength ; but honey must not be expected during the period of strengthening the weak colonies.
Let us see what are the mechanical aids to prevent swarming. We all know, or should do so by this time, that old queens are drone-layers, and the older they become the more drones they produce. Now, nothing will prevent an old queen from becoming a drone layer, any more than we can prevent an old mammal from becoming sterile. You may put in whole sheets of foundation comb, and cut out drone cells by the thousand, but the queen will lay drone eggs in spite of you. If she has nowhere else to deposit them she will put them in the worker cells. Drones are always kept alive at the expense of the storage of honey. They have only one use--one of the aids to reproduction. When that is accomplished the bees themselves get rid of them. During this period they have been occupying valuable room by their superabundance, and devouring food that would be far better used in the rearing of workers. All this can be prevented by getting rid of drone-laying queens. The early spring swarms are always accompanied by a drone-laying queen, and she will very soon commence her drone-laying prochivities. Here you will see the necessity of trying your apprentice hand at queen raising. As early as the season will admit, have an overplus of young laying queens on hand, ready to replace the queen that accompanied the first swarm. This is the first and most important mechanical aid to prevent swarming. The second is like unto it, but not nearly so effective. A queen develops from egg to maturity some five days sooner than the worker; therefore, about every fourteen days take out and examine every comb for constructing queen cell, or developing queens, and destroy them. A keen knife will do it. I always use my finger and thumb and pinch them out.
If, from any cause, you may have been unable to procure young laying queens (although they are always to be procured from dealers in season, and almost out of season), or to examine the combs for queen cells, there are almost sure to be late swarms to deal with. This country is one of the most likely in the world to produce casts and after-swarms, and these are the ones that will give you trouble. In all probability, when they rush from the hive they will go further afield than the spring swarm, before they settle; in fact, it is these swarms that become the vagabonds, and are found hanging on fences and elsewhere about Christmas time. One of the first swarms of bees I ever saw on the wing was one of these vagabonds, high up in the air and hurrying across a meadow. I tried to follow, but a wide and deep brook stopped me. In these early days of my bee-keeping experience, well do I remember tin kettling--ringing them down we called it--the bees attempting to settle first here and there, and, finally, nowhere; while they suddenly took it into their heads to alter their course, rapidly gathered together, were soon lost to sight, and it was goodbye to my swarm. It is this peculiar trait in their character that gives all the trouble. These thousands of bees that escape in this way are so much loss to the colony they came from. If they can be kept in the hive it means more extracting for the beekeeper. The prevention of these casts means having a strong colony through the winter; and a strong colony through the winter means a strong early swarm in the following spring. How can we keep them at home? Even this cannot always be done.
These casts are too frequently led by a virgin queen. Where these after-swarms alight you will have to go through the same process of hiving, as already described, and return them to the hive. But, you say, will there not be two queens in the one hive! Very probably there will. One must be destroyed. Either you must destroy the one with the cast, or there will be a fight between the two queens in the hive, and then it will be the survivor of the battle that will henceforth reign. But how can we find a queen-bee out of the thousands that are in a swarm! There is a little trouble in doing this. If you are acquainted with the form of a virgin queen, by watching the swarm after it clusters, you may sometimes find her running about on the outside, and occasionally threading her way in and out amongst the crowd. To do so you must have an experienced eye. After you have shaken them out and they have settled into the reception box, by spreading a cloth on the ground and throwing the bees on to it, letting them re-enter the box by crawling towards it, you are often enabled to pick her up. All this requires patience--a commodity no beekeeper can afford to be without.
One thing worth noting is, that drones are not produced in very early spring, only in a well-conditioned colony. Drones are unnecessary where there are no young queens developing. Nothing retards spring swarming more than badly constructed hives that are cold and damp, and the bees themselves wintered on a too limited supply of stores, and have come through winter on the verge of starvation, and so dwindled in numbers they have not strength enough to hatch out a large number of eggs, these will not swarm early, no matter how favourable the season may be. Conditions the reverse of the above are the ones that will aid the bee-keeper with early swarms, providing the seasonable conditions are favourable. In the West of England they have this proverb: "A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay; a swarm of bees in June is not much out of tune; but a swarm of bees in July is not worth a single fly." There is a deal of truth in it.