§ I. STINGS: THEIR PREVENTION AND CURE.
SOME of our readers may deem us neglectful in having, as it were, left them to struggle through their bee-keeping novitiate without informing them how to avoid the annoyance of stinging from their docile but well-armed flock. Of course, having described the bee dress, we have supposed that the apiarian was clad, if not "in complete steel," at least in the head-gear and gloves, which will render him invulnerable. The best safeguard from the anger of bees—as, indeed, from the malice of men—is a quiet and peaceable spirit. Never strike at a single one. The apiarian will learn to handle his bees not only as "if he loved them"—as the quaint angler says—but as if he fully believes that the bees love him. This they will do whenever he approaches and treats them gently. There are some cases of exception to this generally peaceable disposition of the bee; perchance a few bees are dyspeptic, and refuse to be pacified, let their master seek to bribe them never so wisely. Then, too, sometimes the bee-master himself may be dyspeptic, which the unerring olfactory sense of the bees speedily detects, and their anger is immediately aroused. Some few persons, owing to constitutional peculiarities in their breath or insensible perspiration, are objects of constant animosity with bees, who, by driving them from the apiary, are giving a physician's advice without charge for a fee. Some of the choicest perfumes used by ladies are offensive to bees; and one may feel very certain that the "fine puss gentleman," who disgusted the brave Hotspur with his "pouncet-box" and praise of "'parmaceti for an inward bruise," would have been speedily driven from an apiary in ignominious flight. For the same reason they will ferociously, and perhaps fatally, attack a sweaty horse, while they appear to have an equal antipathy to dogs. The hand should not be waved near them in sprinkling, as has already been remarked; nor should they so much as be pointed at when disposed to be out of temper. "Above all," says Mr. Cotton, "never blow at them; they will try to sting directly if you do." The distinguished success of Burnens in his examinations was attributed in part by Huber to his power of repressing his respiration. Confidence is another important specific: if a person covers his face with his hands the bees will attack and worry him at once and persistently; while a bee that is inclined to sting will often prefer a person who is watching at a supposed safe distance, judging such person afraid, and probably also seeing him better.
Again, when once a bee has stung, the scent of the poison has an infuriating effect upon others; therefore, says Butler, "you had best be packing as fast as you can." Höfler, who lived in the same century, gives the advice, "Never approach the bees with your hat off; for a bee which may chance to have settled upon the head becomes easily entangled in the hair, grows angry, stings, and moreover calls others to its aid by its hissing passionate note." They have a dislike for woollen gloves, also to some kinds of leather ones. If used to attendants in light clothes it is said they will attack a visitor whose dress is dark. Electricity in the air appears also to ruffle them; and when kept at home by rain, or at night or early morning, they will resent any interference. In very hot weather, too, those inside the hive are sure to be in a bad humour. Von Berlepsch states that to disturb the combs at such a time may perhaps, by breaking them, even cause a civil war in the hive, as once happened to himself when exhibiting an Italian queen and brood to some over-curious tyros, and when, out of some seventy or eighty thousand bees, one-half were slain in the course of an hour. Lastly, they are in a stinging mood when they are queenless and before they have got over the agitation; also when in excitement during her majesty's nuptial excursion. The best time to choose for operations is when, with the hive in a normal condition and the weather agreeable, the great mass of the older bees are out upon the wing. It is these that there is the principal occasion to fear.
Occasionally even a skilful aparian may inadvertently, crush a single bee; such a mischance is detected by the whole community with much more facility than by any "crowner's quest," and their prompt verdict decrees the summary punishment of the offender. There would be much less fear of stings if it were always remembered that bees are never aggressive. "Defence, not defiance," is their motto. They scarcely ever attempt to sting when away from the hive, and very seldom indeed at the time of swarming, for then they are gorged with honey. When molested by angry bees, do not attempt to beat them off; the safest and best retreat is a green bush. Thrust your head into this, or, if no such refuge is near, in an emergency throw yourself on the ground, and, with face downwards, the bees will soon leave you.
Yet some people appear to think they must inevitably be stung if they, meddle with bees, and for their sakes it is needful to explain why it is that a sting is painful, and how the wound inflicted by the bee may be cured. The weapon, as we see it with our naked eye—finer than a needle's point—is only the sheath, which lengthens or contracts like the tubes of a telescope (see [page 104]). The dart, as before said, is barbed on each side, so that the bee, when very angry, is scarcely ever able to withdraw it, but—
"Deems life itself to vengeance well resigned,
Dies on the wound, and leaves the sting behind."
There are, indeed, some happy mortals whose "blood such an even tenour keeps" that a bee-sting is to them simply a puncture, and nothing more. But unfortunately, as Langstroth puts it, "they seem to take a mischievous pleasure in stinging those upon whom the poison produces the most virulent effect." Dr. Bevan has suggested that lovers should subject themselves to the ordeal of a bee-sting, in order to prove, we suppose, that their temper is proof against "the stings and arrows" of any "outrageous fortune" that matrimony can bring.
It is the infinitesimally minute tincture of poison injected by the bee which causes inflammation. The first thing to do is to remove the sting, which, even when detached from the bee, will continue to penetrate still further into the wound. Next press the hollow point of a watch-key exactly over the place stung; this will express a considerable portion of the virus. Then dip the hand into, or bathe the part with, cold or tepid water, for the poison is volatile, and will thereby be dissipated, to a great extent. On no account whatever should the part affected be rubbed; to do that will diffuse the poison and increase the inflammation. The specific remedy for a bee-sting is taught us by chemistry: the venom is an acid, which an alkali will immediately neutralise when brought into contact with it. Spirits of hartshorn will generally be found efficacious, and should therefore always be kept in an apiary. There are also several other remedies more or less effectual, according to the special constitution of the patient. A strong infusion of tobacco-water applied to the wound after the sting has been extracted is a specific for many persons; others find relief from the application of a sliced onion, while Frau Lieb, of Jassy, declares nothing so efficacious as one's own saliva. Two preparations may be named as made especially for the purpose—the "Ledum Palustre," and Dr. Pine's "Bee-keeper's Lotion."
We have heard the remark from several who have kept bees for years, that the poison from a sting has little or no effect on them; after receiving many inflictions their flesh appears to become so little affected that the swelling and pain at one time experienced no longer trouble them. Herr Kleine recommends bee-keepers to subject themselves intentionally to stinging, in order that in two years their system may become insusceptible to the poison. No doubt those who are, so stoically inclined will duly appreciate and gratefully acknowledge the advice.
Boiling water poured on to bees makes a bee tea which has been highly recommended in bad cases of strangury. Bee poison itself is a specific with homœopathists, but one bee-sting is not cured by a second, as Mr. Langstroth satisfactorily demonstrated at the cost of much personal pain.