BEE-spoke-data/bees-v0 huggingface dataset:
classes. They defend the hive against invasion, and they invade other hives if they get half a chance. If there is any cleaning up to be done about the place they are the ones who do the dirty work, and if, as sometimes happens, the colony loses its queen and there are no more eggs to carry on the tribe, some of the workers even turn their hands to this delicate task and lay eggs. It must be said in all justice, however, that these eggs never secure the colony any advantage because while they hatch, they produce only drones. In short, the worker is all that its name implies--it does the work of the colony. And in this connection I use the neuter pronoun correctly because the worker is simply an imperfect female. It is capable of laying eggs, which have never been fertilized, and these eggs hatch in due time and produce perfect drones--the males of the colony. However, the worker never (or very seldom) lays eggs as long as there is a queen in the colony.
The workers gather nectar (not honey) from the flowers. This is the sweet liquid secreted by most plants deep in the corolla of the flower and doubtless intended as a bait to lure various insects into the interior of the bloom, thus providing for cross-pollenation. This nectar is not honey, it merely forms the basis for that delectable product; but just how the bee makes the conversion, just what it adds and what it takes away, has never been determined very definitely. It is known, however, that honey contains the sweet elements that are characteristic of the nectar as it comes from the flowers and that it contains, too, a minute amount of formic acid doubtless added by the bee as a preservative. New honey contains enough of the essential oils (perfumes) of the plants from which it was gathered to give it a distinct odor, but after a time this odor vanishes through evaporation. Honey contains less water than does the raw nectar, but students of the subject have never determined whether this is removed in the honey stomach of the bee during the process of carrying its spoils from the field to the hive, or whether the loss is due mostly to natural evaporation after the honey has been deposited in the cells. Certain it is though, that a very great change takes place in the nectar between the time when it comes from the flower and when it is sealed in the comb by the bees. Just what the bee does to it we can not say but we can be sure it is a busy creature while doing so. The workers gather and store pollen in addition to their stores of honey. To aid them in this work they are provided by nature with special hairs on their legs so arranged as to collect the pollen and carry it most easily. These hair structures are called "pollen baskets."
The pollen is used in preparing food for the first stage in the life of the young bees as will be seen later.
Another little job for the worker is to produce the wax out of which the combs are built. It may seem a small task, but from all appearances it is a time-consuming affair. When this part of the work is going on we can open a live and find clusters of bees festooned from comb to comb in living ladders, each one elinging to its neighbor. I do not know why they assume this form during the process of wax production, but they always do. The wax itself is secreted from tiny plates on the abdomen of the bees and as these plates are formed they are detached by other workers and molded into place as they are needed in the new structure. Such wax is nearly always of an almost snowy whiteness and becomes yellow or brown only after it has been tracked over by millions of the tiny feet of the inhabitants.
The drones are the males of the colony and sometimes they are produced in a wanton abundance that makes one question whether the bees have any particular wisdom or not, for the drone outside of his one function as the male of the tribe is utterly useless. When we consider too, that but one drone of an entire colony can possibly be needed to carry on the race and that hundreds and often thousands of others never do any work at all, it seems surprising that the bees should be so lavish in producing this useless member of their society.
The queen is the only perfect female of the colony. Her activity has been the source of study by some of the greatest scientists and yet it is still only possible to guess at some of the remarkable things which she does. After a young queen is fertilized by a drone she remains fertile during her life and though she may live for four or five years she will continue to lay eggs which are perfectly fertile and which produce sound healthy workers. When we stop to consider, too, that during the height of the spring season a queen will sometimes lay as many as three thousand eggs in a single day we can begin to realize that the job she has ahead of her is a tremendous one.
Another curious thing about the queen is that she can at will lay two kinds of eggs--either fertile ones, which produce workers, or infertile ones that can develop only into drones. These are laid in distinctive sized cells, the ones in which drones are produced being much larger than the ordinary worker cells. The fertile eggs can by proper attention on the part of the bees be developed, not into workers but into new queens. In this way, from one queen we get two types of eggs that may produce three types of individuals.
It is only the queens and the workers that are equipped with those effieient little hypodermic needles known as stings, thus showing that Kipling was absolutely correct in what he had to say about the female of the species--at least so far as the bee is concerned. The queen, however, will very rarely resort to the use of
## 11 BEE BUSINESS
**her sting except against a rival queen, keeping the royal weapon for a royal foe. The drones are as harmless as houseflies but they often buzz about one's head in a way that almost makes a person forget that they are pure bluff.**
**The life-history of these different individuals is not only interesting but it is a very important part of any beekeeper's education.**
**The egg of the worker is a tiny white, elongated object about the size of the shank of the small letter "i"" in the print on this page and about the shape and size in cross section of the dot over the "i." These eggs are deposited in the worker cells in the brood frame and almost immediately are** _fed_**. Can you imagine any one feeding an egg--and yet that is exactly what happens in the case of the bee. The food is a milky substance provided from the mouths of the adult bees and in this food the tiny egg is immersed for three days. At the end of that period it hatchesinto a tiny curled, white grub entirely helpless in the bottom of the cell. It is fed constantly by the attending bees until it is six days old when it has increased in size to almost unbelievable proportions. At this time it practically fills the cell in which it now lies at full length and the bees cap it over with a thin, paper-like material. In this sealed cell the immature bee remains for eleven to twelve days longer and at the end of that time it chews a hole in the cap over its cell and emerges a fully developed worker bee.
These young bees can always be recognized for several days after they emerge for they are covered with downy whitish hair. It is their period of adolescence. For a week or ten days after they emerge the workers are engaged entirely with indoor pursuits; they are the freshmen to whom fall all of the cleaning-up tasks. They must take care of the babies and wash the family clothes and see that the floor is swept and look after the innumer
able little household duties of the colony. In winter, of course, there are no activities in the incubator department of the hive; the queen takes a rest and at this season the inside jobs must be looked after by older bees. I'll bet they hate it. When the young bee is ten days or so old it is sent out to see what it can find in the way of pollen for the bee babies, the first responsible task with which it is trusted outside of the hive. After it serves its apprenticeship at this job it is allowed to go after the real stuff and brings in its first load of nectar when it is perhaps two weeks old. When it has been engaged in adult activities for a month it is in its prime as a producer of honey.
The life-history of the drone is very similar to that of the worker except, as I have said, it is produced from an infertile egg. In other words, a drone bee never has any father but the fact apparently causes him no worry. In the case of the drones a somewhat longer period elapsesbetween the laying of the eggs and the emergence of the adult--being a male he must be excused for the usual masculine habit of being a bit behind time.
The cells in which the drones are produced are decidedly larger than worker cells and the cappings which the bees build over the larvae are decidedly elevated. A surface of drone brood looks for all the world as though the cells were full of wind that was bulging them outward almost to the bursting point. If bees are left to build their combs according to their own ideas they will always provide plenty of these large cells, especially around the edges of the frames. This tendency can be in large part avoided by forcing them to build combs only on full sheets of foundation. In this the size of the cell is stamped in the wax in such a way as to induce the bees to build only worker cells. We can always be sure they will find room for a few drone cells around the edges or at the bottom even where such foundation is supplied.
The queen is reared in a peculiar cell of her own. It does not form a part of the regular comb and is not to be found in a hive except during the swarming season. Instead it is built either at the bottom so as to hang downward, or is attached at the side of the comb in a pendant fashion. In shape and size it reminds one slightly of an unshellled peanut stuck on the side of the brood frame.
The egg from which a queen develops is exactly the same kind of an egg that ordinarily would produce worker bees. The difference in the result is due entirely to the sort of food that the egg and larva receive. This food has been termed "royal jelly" and by removing some of it from queen cells that are started and dividing it among a number of artificial cells one may raise as many queens as one likes. This, however, is a mighty particular job and one that the beginner, the amateur or even the average beekeeper of some experience can well leave to the specialist.
**I** have mentioned the fact that the queens are produced only during the swarming season. The reason for this is that when a colony **"**swarms**" the old queen always leaves with the swarm and some provision must be made for a successor to the absent monarch. The swarm is merely an exodus of the older bees of the colony in search of new quarters. It is the natural way in which the bees increase their numbers and the instinct is so strong in them that the beekeeper must be on the job constantly during the spring of the year when honey supplies are piling up in the storehouse. It is an instinct that is emphasized by the crowded condition of the hive at that season and often many things can be done to discourage the idea. These manipulations, however, will properly come in a later chapter.
There are many things about bees that are not known and probably never will be. One of these is the ability of a bee to recognize a person who is afraid of beingstung. That they do this is almost certain for there are some persons who are utterly unable to work with bees on this account. I once had a man working for me in the orchard who was mortally afraid of bees and if one came within reaching distance of him he was certain to be stung. He never attempted to open a hive and I often wondered just how badly he would have been stung if he had attempted that feat. Probably not so much as might be expected for it would have required courage on his part to handle bees and the bees in turn would have known that he was less afraid of them. With proper handling there is not much chance of being stung, but at the same time one must take certain precautions and the beginner certainly should be urged to watch his step. Years ago when I first began to write about bees I resolved that I would never publish a picture showing any one handling bees without a bee-veil on. It is a regular gallery stunt to open a hive of bees without either smoke or veil and many writers disdain the use of a veil when posing for bee pictures. Much harm has been done by this practice for the beginner has been loaded full of a cooky assurance which makes him think bees do not sting under any circumstances, and then there comes a day of reekoning when the bees are feeling peerved about the last election or something similar and the novice gets a dose of stings that dampens his enthusiasm very considerably.
Therefore, never attempt to work around a colony of bees without a good bee-veil over your head. It is best to put the veil on over a wide trimmed straw hat as the hat will hold the netting away from your face. I usually turn up the collar of my shirt and tie the lower ends of the veil under my necktie. In this way I make a bee-tight joint around my neck and have no fear that any crawler may suddenly appear on the tip of my nose.
Some beginners use "'bee gloves," heavy canvas affairs so thick that the bees can not easily sting through them. When I first began to handle bees I thought the glove idea was a good one and as I had at least one colony of rather cross individuals I put on a pair of leather gauntlets for protection. The difficulty with them was that my fingers were so stiffened that I frequently jarred a frame of brood when I should have handled it with care. Repeated errors of this sort so aroused the bees that they went on a stinging spree and quickly found the funnel-like entrance to the gauntlets--to my great discomfort for several days afterward. My wife, watching me from what she thought a safe distance, was noticed to return suddenly to the house, walking in a stiff and awkward manner unusual with her.
A good bee smoker is just as essential to a well managed apiary as are the bees themselves. It is a tin contrivance with a small bellows attached, with which one can produce an abundance of smoke at will. The best material to use for fuel in the smoker consists of old cotton rags or pieces of burlap. An old burlap bag rolled rather loosely and cut up into two or three inch sections tied with string makes excellent fuel for this purpose.
I do not know just what effect the smoke has on the bees but it certainly has a quieting influence on them and the grossest colony can often be handled with impunity after being smoked.
In opening a hive it is always well to blow a little smoke in at the entrance, not much, just enough to announce to the bees that something is about to be pulled off. Then, pry up the cover about a quarter of an inch and shoot somewhat more smoke into the hive. If the colony is a gentle one but little smoke will be required, but if it is cross or if the weather is cool or damp more smoke should be used.
Remove the cover firmly but gently so as not to jar the hive more than is necessary and blow a little smoke over the tops of the frame. At this the bees will usually buzz actively but in a not unfriendly way. By experience the beekeeper will learn something of the various notes of the bee and can detect a decided difference between the noise they make when they are angry and when they are not.
Watch the hive closely while working with the brood chamber and if you notice the bees collect in the spaces between the top bars in solid rows and each bee with his head pointed outward you may know that it is time to give them a little more smoke. If they begin to fly about you with a high keyed note you should give them still more smoke but never smoke a colony of bees that is quiet and that appears to be going ahead with its work in a peaceful way. Occasionally a single individual will become so aroused that nothing short of sudden death will satisfy it. Such a bee will fly around your head and buzz angrily in front of your face intent upon stinging you. There is only one thing to do to such a hot-head--send it to the morgue.
Above all, in handling bees try to avoid pinching or crushing them when you remove frames of brood from the hive. Nothing you can do will anger them more quickly. You may drum on the hive with a hammer; you may shake or brush the bees from the comb on to the ground; you may jar the combs suddenly so as to remove the bees and they will often remain doe; but if you accidentally pinch one it will be after you with a rush nine times out of ten. Frequently it takes only a leader to start a mob and, believe me, when the bees start out on a real Bolshevistic orgy they can out-Lenine Lening himself.
## Chapter 4 How to get the bees
Getting a start with bees is somewhat different from securing any other kind of live stock that I know about. These little creatures, in spite of all the care given them, are still very much in their wild state as far as their life habits are concerned. We have learned to handle them so that they remain within reasonable bounds, but when the swarming instinct comes over them they revert to the habits of their wild ancestors of thousands of years ago. By swarming the bees increase their numbers. It is the natural way in which a crowded colony makes room within its walls and is a provision of nature to make sure that the race will not die out. It is little wonder then thatwe have been able to do only a trifle to counteract this instinct for it is one of the strongest forces in existence not only among the bees but in all other animals and plant life. To nature, the reproduction of the species, the continuance of the race is the only thing that matters. It is her one big question and she always answers it in her own way. Therefore when a colony throws off a swarm it is reverting to its wild state and unless the beeskeeper is present to catch the swarm when it issues from the hive it will in all probability wander off and take up its abode in some hollow tree, perhaps miles away from the parent colony.
It is in this way that we happen to have "'wild bees' in our woods. They are in every case bees that originally escaped from some beekeeper. Or we might argue that all bees are really wild and that our efforts at domesticating them have been more or less of a failure since they return to their natural condition at
the first opportunity. They not only return but are able to maintain themselves in a wild state--something that could hardly be said of any of our domesticated animals with which we stock our farms.
The new beekeeper therefore has at least one source of stock upon which to draw that is not open to other "stock raisers." Even in Jersey one can not go out and catch himself a Jersey cow anytime he wants it and if I am correctly informed, Shanghai roosters are as carefully cooped in Shanghai as they are in Boston. Wild bees can be obtained from the woods in many parts of the United States and in the more remote portions they are sometimes very common. All one has to do is to go out and locate a bee-tree and remove the bees. Sounds simple, all right, but there are strings to the scheme just as there are to all other easy-money propositions. In the first place the beekeeper must locate the bee-tree, which is not the easiest thing in the world for a noviec to do. The method, however, is so interesting that I believe every one would be glad to know how it is done even though one never expects to try it one's self.
The bee-hunter prepares a small amount of diluted honey for bait and takes with him a small box three or four inches square, with no bottom and with the top made of glass. Fastened to the side of this box is a small dished shelf into which a small quantity of the diluted honey is poured.
After a place is found where the bees are feeding on flowers, a few individuals are caught by placing the box over them. They crawl up the sides, find the honey and begin to fill up on the rich discovery they have made. After several bees have been caught and before any of them are sufficiently laden to cause them to want to return to their hive, the box is placed on some elevated object such as a stump and the glass lid carefully withdrawn.
The hunter then quietly slips back a
trees is a very old one and was used years ago. You will find it mentioned in Cooper's _The Beehunter_.
After lining the bees as above described, the hunter must locate the tree by going into the woods and carefully watching every likely trunk or branch. It requires keen eyesight to do this and the average inexperienced person might pass by a beetree a dozen times and never notice it. By keeping the trees between you and the sun it is often possible to see the bees working in and out of a knot hole high above the ground, while with the light at your back they might be almost invisible.
After the tree is located the next job is to get the bees into a modern hive and this is quite another story.
The colony may have constructed its nest close to the ground where it can easily be reached by the hunter or it may be located in a hollow branch seventy-five feet or more above the earth. If the tree is on another person's land it will be necessary to obtain the owner's permission before such a tree may be cut, but I have never had any trouble in obtaining such permission. Usually the owner is willing to have such trees cut because they are as a rule hollow and worthless as timber and the chance of obtaining a few pounds of honey in exchange will tempt the average owner to part with the tree.
If the nest is high above the ground and in a thin shell of wood, it will quite often be badly wrecked when the tree falls. In some cases the wreck is so complete that practically nothing can be done toward saving the remains, but if the trunk or branch holds together it is an easy matter to chop a hole in the wood large enough to remove the combs one at a time. In such cases one should select those combs that are the most regular in shape and that contain plenty of brood or stores. These combs are taken out of the tree and cut into sections as nearly as possible the exact size of the brood frames.
After carefully fitting the combs into the frames the hunter should take ordinary cotton string and wrap it round and round the frame in such a way as to hold the comb firmly in place. As soon as a frame is filled it should be placed in the hive body and the whole job should be done as quickly as possible without hurrying. It never pays to "hurry" any bee work. The little fellows quickly learn that the operator is hurrying and nervous and they in turn become even more nervous than the worker and thus a "'vicious circle" is formed that sometimes results in the bekeeper suffering a very sudden desire to go away from that particular place and seek other employment.
While this work is being done the bees will, of course, be flying around and crawling over the combs in a more or less excited fashion, but it is rather remarkable that if they are carefully handled they show comparatively little inclination to sting under such circumstances.
When bees are bought in old box hives or in log "gums" the same process of transferring the combs to the frames of the modern hive must be gone through with. I remember the first time I ever saw this work done. I had bought my first bees from an old-fashioned farmer, paying him, I think, two dollars a colony for them. Most of them were in sections of poplar logs about thirty inches high and fifteen to eighteen inches in diameter. I had no idea how to get the little workers transferred to the new hives I had bought, but a beekeeping friend initiated me in the process. He first puffed a good deal of smoke under the lower end of the log and then asked for an ax. About that time I began to think that I would much prefer to keep chickens or Belgian hares or pigeons or some other gentle beasts. The idea of opening a hive of bees with an ax seemed to me like flying in the face of Providence, but that is exactly what George Demuth did on that occasion.