§ IV. THE WORKER.
The working bees form by far the most numerous of the three classes contained in the hive. They are the smallest of the bees; in colour they are dark brown or nearly black (except the Italians and other foreign varieties), and they are distinguished by their activity upon the wing. As to their numbers in a colony, "an ordinary first swarm from a straw hive," says Von Berlepsch, "contains from twelve to twenty thousand, but I have had large wood hives in which, at a moderate computation, there were living at the end of June about a hundred thousand bees:" from thirty to fifty thousand, however, will better represent the strength of an average stock in an English hive. The worker, though formerly spoken of under the term "neuter," is of the same sex as the queen, but is only partially developed, and thus, with some exceptions (see [§ ix].), it is incapable of laying eggs. But any egg which would ordinarily produce a worker bee may, by the cell being enlarged and the "royal jelly" supplied to the larva, be hatched into a mature and perfect queen. This most curious fact may be verified in any apiary by most interesting experiments, which are capable of being turned to important use.
The lives of the worker bees vary very greatly, and are much more prolonged during the repose of winter than in the wear and tear of the gathering season. Von Berlepsch describes three careful sets of experiments which he carried out for the purpose of attaining more exact knowledge on this point. In one of these he introduced an Italian queen into an ordinary stock at the beginning of October when all the old brood was hatched; he then found as a result that the last of the common bees had disappeared at the end of May, so that some of them for a certainty lived eight months, and possibly more, though it seems most probable that the last to die were also the latest born. In another case, the queen having died at the commencement of winter, he strictly isolated the hive, and, the season being exceptionally mild, he found that some of the bees continued alive for ten and a half months. His remaining experiment bore upon the summer term of existence, and it resulted in exhibiting six weeks as the average, and three months as the outside possible period of lifetime. Dzierzon points out the difference produced by the character of a bee's employment. To have to fly a long distance to its pasturage will soon wear it out, and so will knocking its wings against sharp leaves, as is the case with the bluebottle, the thick corn amid which this plant grows rendering the effect very much worse. But if, he adds, they pass the summer in entire repose, as a hive without a queen may do, then, if well fed, their lives may be prolonged for a year or even more.
The population of a hive is very small during the winter in comparison with the vast numbers gathering produce in the summer—produce which they themselves live to enjoy but for a short period. So that not only, as of old, may lessons of industry be learned from bees, but they also teach self-denial to mankind, since they labour for the community rather than for themselves. Dr. Bevan, in describing the age of bees, thus adapts the well-known lines of Homer in allusion to the fleeting generations of men:—
"Like leaves on trees the race of bees is found,
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground;
Another race the spring or fall supplies,
They droop successive, and successive rise."
With regard to the functions of worker bees, Huber supposed that there were two distinct classes, one acting as gatherers of store and the other as nurses of brood. This however has been demonstrated to be a mistake, for the distinction is not one of class, but simply of age, the younger workers, for the first two or three weeks of their existence,[7] assuming the whole of the inner or home occupations—viz., those of feeding the larvæ, the queen, and the drones, and of making wax, building comb, and closing the cells, as well as keeping the hive in a state of cleanliness—and these duties they retain until themselves sufficiently vigorous to range the fields in quest of supplies. After this term of apprenticeship they enter upon the labours of adult bees, and collect honey, pollen, and propolis—particulars as to which functions, and that of wax secretion, will be found in the third and fourth sections of our next chapter, and in the sections devoted to these four items in Chapter VI. Water and salt are also brought in to aid in the sustenance of the young brood. The older bees perform the duties of the younger when there are none or insufficient of the latter in the hive; but they will hang about perfectly idle if kept at home by weather when there is a full staff of their younger sisters. These last, on the contrary, cannot possibly supply the places of the older until at the very least they have attained their eleventh or twelfth day.
[7] German observations cited by Von Berlepsch give from ten to nineteen days. The Baron gives provisionally the sixteenth day as the rule. The first sporting before the hive is given at from the fourth to the tenth day.
Another of the varied duties performed by the younger worker bees is that of ventilating the hive by fanning with their wings. On a warm day a number of them may be seen located outside on the alighting-board working these appendages at the utmost velocity so as to drive a current of pure air within; while inside, but not exactly opposite to their comrades, are another troop, who by the same process are engaged in driving the foul air out. Other detachments are in the hottest weather posted in different parts of the interior, and the whole relieve each other in pickets. Huber ascertained that the inside air of a hive is thus preserved nearly as pure as that without.
In older works on the subject we are told of the sentinels of bees, but this idea is now abandoned as a fiction. It arose naturally enough out of the above office of fanners, as well as from the fact that if a rap be given upon the alighting-board a bee will immediately appear without. So too if danger appears, and if any bees are outside either as fanners or for their own relief from the heat, these will promptly perform the duties of sentinels. But as to any of them being posted specially for that purpose, it is sufficient to say that at the season when enemies are most to be feared there are no guards at the gates to be found.
It has been much queried whether bees ever go to sleep during the working season, as it is known that at night, when not gathering abroad, they are engaged in ceaseless activity at home. Huber, however, observed frequent instances of bees placing their heads' in empty cells and remaining perfectly motionless in that position for from fifteen to twenty-five minutes, in his opinion evidently asleep. Von Berlepsch has repeatedly observed similar occurrences both with workers and queens—not with drones, but then, says he, what is the whole life of these but sleep?—and he considers that there can exist upon the point no doubt whatever. "The more active the bees are," he remarks, "the more will they sleep, like every creature."
The following passage from Dzierzon describes in a popular way the round of the bees' concerns as they vary with the seasons: "In spring, when all Nature has awakened to a new life, the activity of the hive is especially directed to the increasing of the stock, the laying of eggs; at first, indeed, none but worker eggs are laid, and at the outset only a few hundred cells in a day, but afterwards thousands, as every hive seeks in the first place to make its own continuance secure. When gradually the number of bees has through the daily augmentation become perceptibly increased, when the pastures have more fully unfolded themselves, and the warmth in the hive has reached a higher degree, then, in the confidence of strength and of a sort of maturity, and having regard to the remoter object of increase through connubial relations, drone brood is also laid. Finally, although not in every case, in greater or less number queen cells are prepared. As soon as one or other of these is sealed over, the old queen feels no longer safe in the hive, and leaves it on a fine day at noon with the so-called 'fore-swarm.'... In most years and most districts the bee store has passed its climax and entered upon its decline after the swarming period. The activity of the bees now takes another direction. In order to leave over as much honey as possible for the provisionless season that stands before them, a system of saving is now pursued. To compensate for the unavoidable loss of population from the journeys abroad, a certain quantity of worker brood is still continually set on, but to a limited extent, while the breeding of drones is not only given up, but the already deposited drone brood is usually thrown out, and the drones themselves, as no longer of any use, are expelled from the hive. Comb-building too, which the bees so eagerly carried on in the spring, now rests entirely, as it would consume honey, and at the first autumn gathering the bees in fact fill all cells to hand with honey, though previously these may for the most part have served for brood-rearing. Their activity is now bent to securing their future position by accumulating the largest possible store of honey, and preserving themselves against draughts and cold by stopping up the holes in their dwelling with propolis, and narrowing the too wide flight-holes; and these cares generally occupy them so long as the temperature is of such a degree that they can still make their flights, which is up to about 13 degrees Réaumur [say 60 Fahr.].... When there is nothing more to gather, the bees, in order to save strength as well as honey, fly out no longer, even on the finest days, but preserve themselves in complete repose, and only undertake, after several days, an occasional sport before the hive on some warm noonday, so as to cleanse themselves once more before the winter."
Dr. Evans addresses and describes the worker bee in two passages of such real beauty that we cannot refrain from giving them a place here:—
"Ye light-winged labourers! hail the auspicious sign,
When the twin stars in rival splendour shine!
Cheered by their beams, your quickening numbers swell,
And pant your nations in the crowded cell.
Blithe Maia calls, and bids her jocund train
Breathe the warm gale, or softly falling rain;
Inhaled at every pore, the dewy flood
Spreads the young leaf, and wakes the sleeping bud.
Yes, light-winged labourers! still unwearied range
From flower to flower, your only love of change!
Still be your envied lot, communion rare,
To wreathe contentment round the brow of care!
No nice distinctions, or of rich or great,
Shade the clear sunshine of your peaceful state;
Nor Avarice there unfolds her dragon wing,
Nor racked Ambition feels the scorpion sting;
Your tempered wants an easy wealth dispense,
The public store your only affluence:
For all alike the busy fervour glows.
Alike ye labour, and alike repose;[8]
Free as the air, yet in strict order joined,
Unnumbered bodies with a single mind.
One royal head, with ever-watchful eye,
Reins and directs your restless industry.
Builds on your love her firm-cemented throne,
And with her people's safety seals her own."
"Omnibus una quies operum, labor omnibus unus."
Virgil, G. iv. 184.
Plate I.
E. W. Robinson, Delt. et Scp. 1865.