§ II. THE QUEEN,
appropriately styled, by German bee-keepers, the mother bee, is the only perfectly developed female among the whole population of each separate colony. Thus her majesty indisputably sways her sceptre by a divine right, because she lives and reigns in the hearts of loving children and subjects.
The queen may very readily be distinguished from the rest of the bees by the greater length of her body and the comparative shortness of her wings; her legs are longer, and are not furnished with either brushes or baskets as those of the working bee, for, being constantly fed by the latter, she does not need these implements; the upper surface of her body is of a brighter black than the other bees', whilst her colour underneath is a yellowish brown;[5] her wings, which do not extend more than half the length of her body, are sinewy and strong; her long abdomen tapers nearly to a point; her head is rounder, her tongue more slender, and much shorter, than that of the working bee, and her sting is curved. Her movements in the hive are measured and majestic, though when out of her proper sphere, as at swarming time, she is distinguished, on the contrary, by the rapidity of her steps. She has a peculiar scent, which is so attractive to workers, that Mr. Mahan, of Philadelphia, states he has several times had them alight upon his fingers, a mile away from his apiary, after he had been handling the royal mother.
[5] Yellow Italian queens form an exception in point of colour. See [Plate I. Fig. I.]
It is the chief function of the queen to lay the eggs from which all future bees originate, the multiplication of the species being the purpose of her existence; and she follows it up with an assiduity similar to that with which the workers construct combs or collect honey. A queen will lay in the breeding season from 1,000 to 3,000 eggs a day. Both Langstroth and Von Berlepsch have seen queens lay at the rate of six per minute, or more; and the latter observer, on supplying his queen with some new empty comb, found at the end of twenty-four hours that she had laid 3,021 eggs, which at her observed speed she would accomplish in eight hours, and thus have sixteen for rest. She kept up to nearly this rate for twenty days, in which she filled 57,000 cells; and, what is still more surprising, she went on in like style for five years, during which, at the lowest reckoning, she laid. 1,300,000 eggs, or 300,000 per year. But with ordinary queens, says the Baron, 1,200 a day is excellently good work, and this rate from February to September, with allowance for slacker periods, will produce more than 150,000 bees in a year. "Most queens," says Dzierzon, "in spacious hives and at a favourable season, lay 60,000 in a month, ... and a specially fertile queen, in the four years which she on an average lives, lays over a million eggs." This is indeed a vast number; but when there is taken into consideration the multitudes required for swarms, the constant lessening of their strength by death in various ways, and the many casualties attending them in their distant travels in search of the luscious store, it does not seem that the case is overstated.
To keep up these heavy productive duties the queen requires to eat in corresponding proportions, and these she varies, or the bees vary them for her, in the same ratio with the laying itself. She sucks honey from the cells direct, or has it supplied to her by the workers; and, as an important additional fact, the latter regularly nourish her with pollen already partially digested in their own stomachs.
In a glass unicomb hive—which we shall hereafter describe—all the movements of the queen bee may be traced. She may be seen thrusting her head into a cell to discover whether it is occupied with an egg or honey, and, if empty, she turns round in a dignified manner and inserts her long body—so long that she is able to deposit the egg at the bottom of the cell; she then passes on to another, and so continues industriously multiplying her laborious subjects. It not unfrequently happens when the queen is prolific, and if it is an early season, that many eggs are wasted for want of unoccupied cells; for in that case the queen leaves them exposed at the bottom of the hive, where they are greedily devoured by the bees.
The queen bee, unlike the great majority of her subjects, is a stayer at home. On the second or third day of her princess life she usually sets out on the all-important concern of her marriage, and when once this is satisfactorily accomplished she never afterwards leaves the hive, except to lead off an emigrating swarm. Evans, with proper loyalty, has duly furnished a glowing epithalamium for the queen bee, thus:—
"But now, when noontide Sirius glares on high,
With him young love ascends the glowing sky,
From vein to vein swift shoots prolific fire,
And thrills each insect fibril with desire.
Thence, Nature, to fulfil thy prime decree,
Wheels round in wanton rings the courtier bee;
Now shyly distant, now with bolder air,
He woos and wins the all-complying fair;
Through fields of ether, veiled in vapoury gloom,
They seek with amorous haste the nuptial room,
As erst the immortal pair on Ida's height
Wreathed round their noon of joy ambrosial night."
The loyalty and attachment of bees to their queen is one of their most remarkable characteristics; they constantly supply her with food, and fawn upon and caress her, softly touching her with their antennæ—a favour which she occasionally returns. When she moves about the hive all the bees through whom she successively passes pay her the same homage; she experiences no inconvenience from overcrowding, for though the part of the hive to which she is journeying may be the most populous, way is immediately made, the common bees tumbling over each other to get out of her path, so great is their anxiety not to interfere with the royal progress. A number of them often form a circle round her, none venturing to turn their backs upon her, but all anxious to show that respect and attention due to her rank and station.
The majestic deportment of the queen bee, and the homage paid to her, are, with a little poetic licence, thus described by Evans:—
"But mark, of regal port and awful mien,
Where moves with measured pace the insect queen!
Twelve chosen guards, with slow and solemn gait,
Bend at her nod, and round her person wait.
Not eastern despots, of their splendour vain,
Can boast, in all their pomp, a brighter train
Of fear-bound satraps; not in bonds of love
Can loyal Britons more obedient move."
Some modification has to be made, however, in the old ideas on this head, though, so long as it is understood that the reverence of the bees for their queen is an official and not a personal reverence, it may be allowed, except as to the existence of a regular guard, to be for the most part true enough. But the government is a limited and not an absolute monarchy, for the workers often impose their own will upon the sovereign. This homage, moreover, is paid only to matron queens, as Dr. Dunbar noted whilst experimenting on the combative qualities of the queen bee. "So long," says he, "as the queen which survived the rencontre with her rival remained a virgin, not the slightest degree of respect or attention was paid her; not a single bee gave her food; she was obliged, as often as she required it, to help herself; and, in crossing the honey cells for that purpose, she had to scramble, often with difficulty, over the crowd, not an individual of which got out of her way, or seemed to care whether she fed or starved. But no sooner did she become a mother than the scene was changed," and all treated her with due attention.
The sting of the queen bee is utilised in depositing her eggs, and she does not use it for hostile purposes except in combat with her sister queens. Mr. Langstroth remarks that this forbearance apparently arises from the knowledge that the use of the sting might prove fatal to herself, and thus seriously jeopardise the whole hive. He adds that she will carry it to the extent of allowing herself to be torn limb from limb without an attempt at stinging, though if closely held in the hand she will sometimes use her jaws, which, being more powerful than those of other bees, may occasion some discomfort. But she admits of no rival to her throne; almost her first act, on coming forth from the cell, is an attempt to tear open and destroy the cells containing the pupæ of princesses likely to become competitors. Should it so happen that another queen of similar age does exist in the hive at the same time, then, if one be not promptly destroyed by the workers, as is now considered to be the rule, the two are usually brought into contact with each other, in order to fight it out, and decide by a struggle, mortal to one of them, which is to be the ruler; the stronger of course is victorious, and remains supreme, while her rival either falls dead or is left to die.[6] Either of these, it must be admitted, is a wiser method of settling the affair than it would be to range the whole hive under two distinct banners, and so create a civil war, in which the members of the rival bands would kill and destroy each other for matters they individually had little or no concern about. The bees care not which queen it is, so long as they are certain of having one to rule over them and perpetuate the community; indeed, they have been known in some cases to form rings round the respective combatants, and even to force them to the conflict if unaware of each other's presence. But Dr. Bevan tells us that there do exist queens which will not fight. The workers do not always decide: the matter in such case; it is, indeed, nothing uncommon, says Vogel, for two fruitful queens to be allowed to live together; and we have had instances of the same kind ourselves, without being able to give a reason other than that "the exceptions prove the rule." An Italian queen, it is said, is usually assisted in her third year by a younger mother born in her own hive.
[6] Dr. Bevan mentions examples both of instant fatality and of survival for twenty-four hours. The sting of the queen is evidently less powerful than that of workers, as her poison-bag is smaller; and we learn from Von Gindly that he once succeeded in inducing a queen to sting him, when the effect was like little more than the prick of a needle. Kleine also, after persevering attempts, was once stung by a queen, and so was Hoffnann of Vienna—the queen in this last case losing thereby the faculty of laying.
These royal duels, though no longer regarded as the invariable routine, have been abundantly testified to by undoubted witnesses, and some of these have deduced a singular law as governing the combatants. Neither queen, it is said, will sting her rival unless she has her at an advantage, and can thrust her body beneath the other's, and inflict the fatal thrust without fear either of receiving another simultaneously, or of being unable to withdraw her own sting. If on the contrary each has grappled the other in readiness for mutual slaughter, they will at once separate and commence the battle anew.
After perusing the description given above of the attachment of bees to their queen, it may be easy to imagine the consternation a hive is thrown into when deprived of her presence. The bees first make a diligent search for their monarch in the hive, and then afterwards rush forth in immense numbers to seek her. If the search is unavailing they will return to the hive and commence what Langstroth calls "a succession of wailings in the minor key," which no experienced bee-master can mistake. When such a commotion is observed in an apiary the competent apiarian will repair the loss by giving a queen. The bees have generally their own remedy for such a calamity, in their power of raising a new queen from amongst their larvæ; but if neither this nor the former means is available, the whole colony gradually dwindles and in time dies off. The following is the method by which working bees provide a successor to the throne when deprived of their queen by accident, or in anticipation of the first swarm, which is always led by the old queen:—
They select, when not more than three days old, an egg previously intended for a worker bee—but a larva will serve, so it be not grown to its full size—and then they enlarge the cell so selected by destroying the surrounding partitions; they thus form a royal cradle, in shape very much like an acorn-cup inverted. The chosen embryo is then fed liberally with a peculiar description of nurture, called by naturalists "royal jelly"—a pungent food composed of honey and digested pollen, and prepared by the worker bees exclusively for those of the larvæ that are destined to become candidates for the honour of royalty. The effect of this is both to perfect and to hasten the development of the future insect, so that instead of a worker being produced at the end of twenty-one days, a queen emerges in the reduced term of sixteen.
But should the deprivation happen at a time when, either from the season or from abnormal circumstances, there is no worker brood in the hive, the bees will then often exhibit a series of curious and even ludicrous struggles, which Von Berlepsch has aptly compared to the clutchings at straws made by a drowning man. Themselves individually are no sufferers; but bees look beyond themselves, and posterity they must have. Their sole preoccupation, therefore, is to raise drones and a queen. Some of them often develop a capacity to lay drone eggs (as explained under [§ ix].), and most of these they will carefully cherish for their natural purpose, but others they will surround with royal cells and feed with royal jelly, so that the poor things on hatching are soon dosed to death in a frantic effort to change their sex! And if drone eggs are not to hand they will even try to hatch a queen out of a lump of pollen! In more senses than one then we see that when bees have lost their queen they have lost their head.
As curiously dissimilar, though not discordant, instances of the effect of removing the queen from a hive, we may mention that Mr. Langstroth once tried the experiment for only two or three minutes, when he had all in confusion immediately, and found two days after that royal cells had been prepared; while Dr. Bevan once effected the removal so quietly that for eighteen hours all went on as usual, and then on a sudden the fact became known, and everything was changed into agitation and distraction. Should a queen so separated be detained from her subjects, she resents the interference, refuses food, pines, and dies.
The observations upon the queen bee needful to verify the above-mentioned facts can only be made in hives constructed for the purpose, of which the "Unicomb Observatory Hive" is the best. In ordinary hives the queen is scarcely ever to be seen; where there are several rows of comb she invariably keeps between them, both for warmth and for greater security from danger. The writer has frequently observed in stocks which have unfortunately died, that the queen was one of the last to expire; and she is always more difficult to gain possession of than other bees, being by instinct taught that she is indispensable to the welfare of the colony.
The queen enjoys a far longer life than any of her subjects, her age very often extending to four or even five years; her fertility will, however, except in rare cases, have left her long before that term, or she will lay only drone eggs, so that as a general rule a substitute is better found for her when she has entered her third year. Under the next section, and those on "Reproductive Economy" and "Relation of Sex to Cells," as well as in Chapter IV. under "Queen Cages," will be found other information connected with the queen.