BEE-spoke-data/bees-v0 huggingface dataset:
Be prepared. Have all the required adjuncts at hand and in place for catching your swarms and living them. Choose the site on the grounds where you intend to keep them. If it be under natural shade, trim off over-hanging twigs, so as to have head-room. You will find the advantage of this, especially if you are in the habit of wearing a bee-veil. Nothing us more annoying, when you are handling bees, than to find a sudden pull at your head-gear, and you stand bare-headed with a frame of irritable bees in your hand. Under such circumstances an apprentice at the work would find it hard to follow out the advice I so often give--be gentle and kind in handling your bees. Level the spot where each hive is to stand. Place four pieces of brick on the ground, so they may stand about two inches high. The surfaces of these must be even, try them each way with a spirit-level. On these, place your hives. Before placing the frames in the hives see that the starters (artificial foundation comb, from 1 to 2 inches deep, attached to the top bar of the frame) are securely fastened to the top bar. For living purposes I prefer these starters to full sheets. In placing the frames in the hives see that they hang plumb and equidistant from each other. Put a quilt over the frames, and the lid in position. In fact, treat each empty hive intended for the reception of bees as if the colony were in it. You will find an advantage in this when your new swarms issue forth. A swarm-catcher of some description, a bee-veil (always wear one on your hat ready for use), and a queen-cage should be near by, so that you may be able to place your hand on them at a moment's notice. A queen-cage is necessary if you keep your qreens with clipped wings. If bees are kept in a town it is an advantage to clip the queen's wings, and also, if your occupation keeps you around about your bees during swarming season, otherwise there is no advantage in it, especially with first swarms. There are a number of other swarming devices, all more or less useful, for which see supply dealers' catalogues.
In Symptoms of Swarming I have mentioned the piping of the queen. By placing the ear to the hive this cry may be heard on the eve prior to swarming. But the absence of the cry is no proof the bees will not swarm on the morrow. On the morning of the day the bees intend to swarm, the innates of neighbouring hives will be seen issuing forth and returning with all the energy they are capable of, whilst the hive the swarm is expected from will be quiet, and labour will appear to be almost suspended, only a few bees passing in and out. Yet this is not an infallible sign. I have frequently seen a swarm of bees on the wing, and mixed up with them numbers of bees with their pollen-baskets well packed with pollen; evidently they had not received word that swarming was to take place that day.
The time of day for bees to swarm is not well defined. Itis some time between sunrise and sunset. As a rule, it is during the hottest part of the day. It is a pretty and interesting sight to see the bees issuing forth from the hive for the purpose of swarming. They all appear eager to see which will be out first, pushing and tumbling one over the other. Bees with their wings fringed with hard work and old age; middle-aged and baby bees; young, downy fellows, even too young to take part in the general exodus. You will find many of the latter running about outside the hive. If the hive is close to the ground, and of easy access, they are soon inside again; if not, it is as well to pick them up, and put them on the alighting board. A young bee is worth more than an old one.
To any bee-keeper it is pleasant to watch the bees maneeuvring in the air; advancing, receding, rising, falling and circling; not looking about for the queen. She is mixed up with them, but she has no allotted place in that busy crowd. Whilst on the wing the hunt they emit is a pleasant one, and to them one of joy. We do not know how the information is telephoned from one to the other, when they are on the wing, that a chosen spot has been selected, and it is time to settle. A practised ear can detect a change in the hunt. At once, when the sound of the bees change, you will see those bees that have been scattered far around heading for the spot selected. Indeed, there appear to be many spots chosen, for you will see the bees forming little clusters here and there. These are all ultimately abandoned for the central one. Watch the central one. You may see the queen, if she be unclipped, alighting with the rest. Pick her gently up by the wing and cage her for a few minutes. (If the queen is clipped, stand by the hive as the bees issue forth and cage her there.) When a fairly good number of the bees have settled, shake them into a receiving-box, and at once, if you have caged the queen, place her amongst them. If you have not secured the queen, watch the box into which you have shaken the bees. If they persist in returning to the place whence you shook them you must shake again, and repeat the process as often as they return thither. One way of ascertaining if the queen is in the receiving-box is to move it a few yards from the spot in which you first placed it. If the bees follow, you may be sure the queen is there. Nevertheless a large number of bees will continue to hang about the place where they first clustered. If you have secured the queen, these will soon begin to dwindle away. If you have little or no experience in swarm catching and living, do not get excited or hurried over the job. It is the quiet, easy movements that will bring success. You have no occasion to be afraid of the bees. When they have the swarming impulse on they are most docile, and put on their best behaviour. You may do almost anything with them if you move and handle them gently. I have seen the most timid ladies, when given to understand this, and shown how to do it, pick bees up by the handful without being stung, and you may do the same. In doing so, put no pressure whatever on the bees.
If the bees settle some distance from the apiary, as soon as about two-thirds of them are in the receiving-box begin to remove them homewards by easy stages--at first say 5 or 6 yards, and increase the distance each removal. As soon as you see that the bees have found the box, give the move-on order, and shift the box nearer home. Do not wait till sundown to take your bees home. The stragglers will follow the box. There will be some few that may not do so; these will return to the hive from whence they came.
Presuming that you have been following all the advice I here tender, and the permanent home for your bees has been'swept and garnished," and in every way ready to receive its inhabitants, the last stage in the removal of the receiving-box containing the bees should be close to their permanent home. Remove the lid of the hive and its quilt, exposing all the frames to full view. Take your box of bees, and with one jerk tumble the bees in amongst the frames. In a very few minutes they will have descended into the hive, and cluster to the frames. Put the quilt over them, placing a stone on either corner to prevent the wind lifting it. Shortly afterwards remove the stones and put the lid of the hive in its place. The bees will soon find the entrance, and your trouble is over.
Probably next morning you will find them very quiet. They are secreting wax and comb-building. Remove the lid and quit, and see if all the frames are correctly spaced; if they are not, you know what to do without me telling you. Some on the following day will be seen examining the hive, flying a little way off, and returning. They are learning the geography of the neighbourhood. Within a few days you will see them carrying in pollen. All the danger of their leaving the hive is, perhaps, now over. I say 'perhaps," because bees are such erratic things.
**I** have known bees, after they have been lived and built comb as large as your hand, take a fad into their heads and clear out.
**Why, I cannot tell, and I do not think any one else can. Should they do so, there is nothing for it but to go through the whole work again.**Now, if you have been anything like in luck's way, the whole process from the time the bees made their exit from the parent, have to that when you have your new swarm will not occupy more than an hour. But to this statement I must make certain reservations. Did the bees settle in an easy accessible place! Did they settle near the apiary?
All here stated has reference to first or early swarms, which are led by a pregnant queen. when there is a certain amount of assurance that they will not abscond. Casts or after swarms--those that come out with virgin queons--may give a little more trouble than here detailed.
Figure 1:
Taking bUSH BES.
## Chapter Xvi
### 10.1 Taking bush Bees.
On the northern rivers of this State, back in the early seven ties, bush excursions were frequently made in quest of bees' nests, and oftimes it proved a very profitable pastime. Armed with a good axe, a knife, and vessels in which to carry home the booty, a party would sally forth, frequently with horse and dray, and come back with 2 or 3 cwt. of honey. True it was bush honey, that is, a mixture of rotten wood and what else the hollow spout contained. But what did that matter! Those who feasted on the luscious delicacy in those days knew nothing of a purer article, excepting that which went under the name of ''garden honey.'' This article differed nothing from ''bush honey'' only there was no rotton wood in the mixture. More than once I have seen trees felled in which there were two nests, each containing upwards of 11\(\frac{1}{2}\) cwt. of marketable honey, which was then sold at 2d. per lb. I have also seen a big, old, solid ironbark, the hollow spout of which contained a bees' nest, after a deal of labour bestowed upon it by two axemen, come down with a crash, and that was all the fun and profit got out of it, beyond the discomiture of the bees, for the nest proved to be a duffer, and the bees were permitted to find new quarters.
The idea of these excursions was to get honey, and nothing but honey. Bees and brood-comb were discarded, the latter always; sometimes the former if they clustered in a come-at-able place, and it was near the house, were taken home and put in the typical gin-case hive, for the purpose of obtaining that better article, ''garden honey,'' with a little less trouble.
Well, that day is fast passing away to be treasured up among the things that have been. The snap-shot illustrations on page 101 are two or three stages towards fitting up an ideal bee farm. The operator has with him some modern bee appliances, notably that indispensable adjunct to bee-keeping, a smoke bellows. By-the-bye, it is an old-fashioned one and if he is not careful to stand it nozzle end up the fire will be choked with its own smoke. One of the newer pattern may be placed on the ground as shown in the illustration. 'Catching a Swarm," on page 87. I prefer the modern bellows of the Pender type (fig. 2).
Now, away in the bush many a good swarm of bees can be obtained in the way our hero with the smoker in his hand is doing. It is evident he is not gone out for honey and honey alone. Note his accompaniments. Nevertheless, by these he appears to be satisfied with two things--the _bees_ and the honey. When you are chopping out a bees' nest you must go in for one thing more, the young brood in the comb. The bees are all very well as far as they go; they will do to unite with a weaker colony, or if they are numerically strong lay the foundation for a good colony. But the majority by far are mature bees, and their days are numbered. The life of the youngest of them at the outside will not be more than two months. The brood comb is the most valuable portion of the operator's find; therefore, it will be so to you if you are going to do likewise.
You know the cook's old adage, "first catch your hare." When you have found your bees' nest, if the bees' entrance to the nest be within easy reach smoke the bees as the tree stands. Of course before you do that you will encase yourself as shown. There is no advantage to be obtained in giving them "a regular good dose of it." After three or four good whiffs of smoke have been driven in, rest awhile, and when the smoke has cleared away note the direction the bees are coming out from the entrance; that is, see if they are coming \(u\mu\) from below or _down_ from above. That little bit of observation will save you a deal of chopping. Do not fell the tree till you are sure the nest is out of your reach. If you fell the tree the chances are when it reaches the ground with a thud the comb will break into one conglomerate mass, and when you take out its contents it will be a perfect hutch-potch. By all
## Chapter Xvii Handling.
**Undoubtedly** the three most important allies to a bee-keeper are eyes that are keen to observe small movements, ears quick to detect the tones and semitones made by the wings of the bees, and fingers, very sensitive to touch, and nimble enough to adjust, swiftly but gently, frames at the required distances, or to change those spaces as circumstances may require. The last-mentioned faculty is, perhaps, the most important of all, and the novice will learn from experience that much of his success will depend upon the dexterity and discretion he is able to exercise in the manipulation of his frames.
Somewhere in his _Complete Angler,_ old Izzak Walton says, in referring to putting a worm on the hook, ''Handle it gently, as though you loved it.'' That is the most essential advice I can give to any who want to know how to become a bee-master. Be kind, be geutie. Gentle in all your movements. Kind in moving the bees from place to place. What queer ideas onlookers have as to the reason why a practical bee-keeper is so successful in handling his bees, and the extraordinary notions these onlookers entertain as to the docility of the bees when under manipulation. ''Oh, the bees know him,'' or ''I'le has chloroform about him,'' or, ''I'le puts something in that smoker (the bee-bellows) that stupefies the bees,'' are some of the ejacations that I have overhead again and again when giving practical lectures on ''How to handle bees.'' If I were giving my experience under this head, many amusing and interesting circumstances could I relate that bee-keepers themselves would hardly give credence to. An experienced bee-keeper does not handle his bees with that apparent nonbalance because he is assured of the fact that his bees know him. How can it be so? Look at the thousands of inmates in a hive. How can the individuals in that community become acquainted with their keeper? No, it is not that the bees know their master, but that the master has a knowledge of his bees. He knows by certain of their movements, their appearance, and tone (perhaps I had better say voice), how far he can go, and no farther. We must remember the duration of the life of a working bee is only about six weeks. We know the length of time required for the most docile of wild animals to become acquainted with their keeper; and the pugnacious nature of the whole race of bees does not except them from the catalogue of the untameable. Nevertheless, the handling of generation after generation of bees, and the breeding from queens of known docility, is telling upon the retaliatory disposition of the bees. That, combined with our increasing knowledge of bee-life, is no doubt having its effect upon their disposition.
I tried chloroform once in my early days, acting on the advice of a chemist. Do not ask me to give my experience. I would rather not. Smoke from the bee-bellows does not act in any way upon their nerves, other than compelling them to gorge themselves with honey.
From the movement and the tones emitted by the bees, the bee-master knows by experience when he can handle them successfully. Again, bees have a language that can be interpreted by a practical bee-keeper as easily as the language of the poultry-yard is understood by the hen-wife. What poultry-farmer does not know the call of a hen when danger is nigh, or when she is looking for a nest, or when she has laid an egg, or when she 'is about to sit, or when she has chickens, or when she has found a tit-bit for them, etc., etc. So bees have a language that is as distinct to the practical ear of a bee-master as the calls of the farm-yard are to the ears of a farmer.
The joyous, natural note of bees when they are flying from flower to flower, there are very few who cannot recognise it. By that same note the bee-keeper knows when his pets are returning home that they are peaceful and happy. When that note changes sharp and shrill, it is the war cry; then he retires if he has discretion. If, when he has blown a little smoke in amongst his bees, there is a dull, heavy sound, he knows it to be the cry of defeat. Ile knows, too, their cry of distress at the loss of their queen. and the cestatic cry of joy when she is returned. Try it with a swarm of bees that is queenless, and without brood, by putting in a frame of brood-comb containing young brood and eggs --at once they change their note to one of joy. What a mel'odious note they give forth when rising on the wing to swarm; how it changes when they have found a suitable place whereon to alight; then the rallying call to the fugitives as they cluster in thousands one upon the other, and how that cry gradually subsides as the wanderers return to the cluster. When all the swarm has returned to the alighting spot not a sound is produced. Then, again, listen at a hive at the close of day, when they rest from their out-door labour--the exhaustive labour during the honey harvest. As they stand with their rapidly vibrating wings expanded fanning and ventilating the hive, what a peaceful sound they emit as they sing their evening doxology, ''Praise God from Whom the honey flows.'' These are sounds that must be learned, and can only be learnt by experience; every bee-keeper knows them. Perhaps not in the order and the language that I have employed, but he knows their change of tone under different circumstances and conditions.
_When examining a hive do not stand in front of it._ Stand at the side or, better still, behind. In the subject on the arrangement of the hives in the apiary I have already cautioned you to have the hives sufficiently far apart from row to row to give the bees room to enter their home without your presence interfering with their direct line of flight. Stand by a hive of bees and watch them going out to their field labours, and returning with the spoils of the trip. On going out, especially if the honey flow be from trees generally surrounding your homestead, after they emerge from the hive they rise in the air, and make abortive attempts to go in as many different directions in quest of honey or pollen. When they have decided, they at once hie away to where they can get the greatest quantity in the shortest space of time. Watch the returning bees. Each one comes in a straight line from the last flower she rifled of its nectar, when she drops almost suddenly to the hive entrance. There is no hesitation. She enters at once, eager to disburden herself of her load. If they are coming from any point in a direction fronting the hive, their line of flight between the last flower wrought upon and their home is a direct one. Keeping rather high in the air, until near the hive, they gradually decsend, forming an inclined plane to the entrance. But, if the foraging ground be somewhere away to the back of their home, they keep at about the same altitude till they get a little beyond their home, when they drop suddenly to the entrance. If bees are interrupted in their line of flight by an animated object near the entrance to their home, they are at once angered. If you stand in front of that line you become that object, and the bees will resent it upon you; but if you take up a position at the rear, the bees, in their homeward flight, pass over you, and you stand on very safe ground. Now you know where to stand, when you are about to handle your bees, and the reason of it. The time to examine your bees must be guided by the season and circumstances. In the summer season, any time, if the day be bright; but the middle hours of the day are the best, because there are not the number of bees at home as there are in the earlier or later ones. In the colder seasons never open your hives except under very exceptional circumstances; then select a bright day about noon.
Charge your smoker with anything that will smoulder, and at the same time will throw off a fair volume of smoke, but will not ignite into flame. Old, semi-rotten bagging, old fustian, dry cow-droppings, or cotton-waste that has been used to clean the oiled parts of machinery. There are plenty of other things that are equally good. When the contents of the smoker is lit, see that it smoulders well. First, remove the lid of the hive gently and quietly; next, turn back one corner of the quilt so as to leave a small aperture in that opening; blow in two or three puffs of smoke, keeping the nozzle of the smoker about six inches from it, so that heated smoke shall not reach the bees. I have more than once seen the wings of bees singed for the want of taking this precaution. Wait two or three seconds after this for the bees to well gorge themselves with honey. It is this gorging of themselves with honey that subdues them, not their knowledge of you, nor smoke that stupifies them. After the lapse of a few seconds, gradually and slowly peel off the quilt. You will find it adhering to the frames rather firmly, especially if it be some time since the bees have been examined. As you peel it off follow it up with a good cloud of smoke, still keeping the nozzle well back from the bees. When the whole of the frames are exposed, or as many of them as may be required, just look at the bees, some of them will still have their heads in the cells sucking up the honey; others will be walking rather leisurely over the surface of the comb; others, again, forming little clusters here and there. Those bees on the frame will appear rather longer in the abdomen than those that are coming out of a hive near by that has not been so disturbed. The dorsal rings of the abdomen of bees when surcharged with honey are distended one from the other by a little whitish ring between each of the plates, six in number. When these whitish rings are visible, the bees are on their best behaviour; their hum is peaceful and quiet. No more smoke will then be needed, except when necessary to drive the bees from one place to another. If, on the other hand, the bees on the comb are restless, some of them standing as if on stilts, their abdomens rapidly vibrating to and fro, occasionally protruding the sting, and those on the wing uttering a sharp, shrill war cry, it is just about as well to leave them alone if you are an amateur. An old, practical bee-keeper would not mind all that; he would very soon bring them to their senses, and go about his work as though they were on their very best behaviour.
## Chapter Xix.
ARTIFICIAL SWARMING AND DIVISION OF SWARMS.
THERE is nothing like natural swarming. A natural swarm issues forth with all the conditions demanded by Nature. Every member of the swarm has started from the parent hive in a first-class temper, and with a determination to succeed and to overcome every obstacle. More especially is it so if it be a spring or first swarm from that hive of the season. The ordinary workers, the rank-and-file, are the most numerous. Upon them falls the bulk of the labour--the field-work for the supply of the essential stores for establishing and sustaining the future home. There is also a good supply of nurse bees. Of course, they are only young workers. Although there are no developing brood for them to attend to, there soon will be, because the queen or mother bee accompanying the early spring swarm is in a condition to commence depositing her eggs as soon as the necessary domestic arrangements are sufficiently far advanced to permit of it. A few drones or male bees will also be mixed up in the swarm--that, apparently, disorderly crowd.