§ XI. THE RATIONALE OF SWARMING.
Under this heading we purpose to describe such matters as belong chiefly to the natural history of the bee, thus reserving for its proper position at the beginning of our fifth chapter all which strictly belongs to the subject of "Manipulation," and which it is to the convenience of the inexperienced bee-keeper to find brief and ready to his hand at any moment of emergency. A leisurely digesting of the interesting facts stated in the present section will, however, greatly assist him in the intelligent following of his pursuit.
In May, when the preceding part of the spring has been fine, the queen bee is very active in the deposition of eggs, and the increase in a strong healthy hive is so prodigious that emigration is necessary, or work would soon cease. The bees, on arriving at a conviction of this fact, commence preparations by the building of royal cells, thus putting matters straight for the after government and progress of the hive. The queen, nolens volens, falls in with the general resolution, and makes off with the swarm on the first pleasant day after one of these cells has been sealed over, that is to say, some six or seven days before her first rival is likely to emerge. If delayed by the weather till within two days of the hatching of this, the bees usually destroy all the princesses, and either start fresh cells or give up swarming altogether for the season. It is now a well-established fact that the old queen goes forth with the first swarm, and thus the sovereignty of the old hive devolves upon a young queen. Dzierzon, however, once met with a case in which the old queen refused to stir, and three strong swarms were led forth by young princesses in the course of five days. By the bye, it should be added that swarms are never "led" forth except by young queens, in the sense of having these at their head; fruitful mothers usually follow in the midst.
As soon as the swarm builds combs in its new abode, the emigrant queen begins laying eggs in the cells, and thereby speedily multiplies the labourers of the new colony. Although there is now amongst apiarians no doubt that the old queen quits her home, there is no rule as to the composition of the swarm: old and young alike depart. Some show unmistakable signs of age by their ragged wings, others their extreme youth by their lighter colour. We do not, however, use the term "young" in reference to those youngest inhabitants of the hive whose engagements are solely within doors, for these cannot go till their proper time for flying has arrived. Von Berlepsch says that all the adult bees which are at home at the time of starting go with the swarm; and sometimes this results in none but the brood bees being left—or only one-fourth of the population. In preparation for flight, bees commence filling their honey-bags, taking sufficient, it is said, for three days' sustenance. This store is needful, not only for food, but to enable them to commence the secretion of wax and the building of combs in their new domicile.
On the day of emigration the weather must be fine, warm, and clear, with but little wind stirring; for the old queen, like a prudent matron, will not venture out unless the day is in every way favourable. Whilst her majesty hesitates, either for the reasons we have mentioned or because the internal arrangements are not sufficiently matured, the bees will often fly about or hang in clusters at the entrance of the hive for two or three days and nights together, all labour meanwhile being apparently suspended. When this cluster is formed in the morning hours, and grows constantly larger in spite of the sun, it may be taken as the sign of a very speedy start. The busy flitting of other bees around this cluster, or their sporting in numbers before the hive, are also reliable signs, and some have included the appearance of drones at ten in the morning. At the last, when the time is quite fixed, the bees in the cluster suddenly return to the hive to fill themselves with honey for the flight. The agitation of the little folk is well described by Evans:—
"See where, with hurried step, the impassioned throng
Pace o'er the hive, and seem, with plaintive song,
To invite their loitering queen; now range the floor,
And hang in clustered columns from the door;
Or now in restless rings around they fly,
Nor spoil they sip, nor load the hollowed thigh;
E'en the dull drone his wonted ease gives o'er,
Flaps the unwieldy wing, and longs to soar."
But when all is ready, a scene of the most violent agitation takes place; the bees rush out in vast numbers, forming quite a dark cloud as they traverse the air.
The time selected for the departure of the emigrants is generally between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m.; most swarms come off within an hour of noon. In very sultry weather they have been known to be as early as 7 a.m., and on the other hand as late as 5 p.m., though this last probably only occurs when a young queen leads the detachment. As a rule, says Von Berlepsch, first swarms start in the morning and after-swarms in the afternoon. It is a very general remark that bees choose a Sunday for swarming, and probably this is because then greater stillness reigns around. It will not be difficult to imagine that the careful bee-keeper is anxious to keep a strict watch, lest he should lose such a treasure when once it takes wing. The exciting scene at a bee-swarming has been well described by the apiarian laureate:—
"Mounts the glad chief! and, to the cheated eye,
Ten thousand shuttles dart along the sky,
As swift through ether rise the rushing swarms,
Gay dancing to the beam their sun-bright forms,
And each thin form, still lingering on the sight,
Trails, as it shoots, a line of silver light.
High poised on buoyant wing, the thoughtful queen
In gaze attentive views the varied scene,
And soon her far-stretched ken discerns below
The light laburnum lift her polished brow,
Wave her green leafy ringlets o'er the glade,
And seem to beckon to her friendly shade.
Swift as the falcon's sweep, the monarch bends
Her flight abrupt: the following host descends;
Round the fine twig, like clustered grapes, they close
In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose."
As it often happens with after-swarms that more than one young queen is hatched before the start is made, the presence of these may cause irregular and puzzling behaviour in the bees. Langstroth mentions a case in which no less than eight queens must have started thus together, and Von Berlepsch once met with the same number; while Spitzner found a swarm with so many as twenty-one, but this happened fourteen days after the return to the hive of the first swarm, which had lost its queen. As mentioned in the section on "The Queen," it is not altogether a rare occurrence, though certainly the exception, for more than one monarch to settle down together. In one American case no fewer than five colonies once took up their quarters in a single large box, and remained there through a season "united yet divided."
If, on the contrary, the queen is not in the swarm at all, the bees sometimes return at once to the hive, and sometimes they first institute a search for her majesty. In the famous but cruel experiment of Dr. Warder a whole swarm was starved to death by alternate deprivations and restorations of their queen repeated at intervals during five days. Of course in his day this devotion was attributed to personal regard.
Exceptional cases of another kind are also not uncommon, in which a colony has made no preparation for swarming (by the formation of royal cells), but on the sudden arrival of warm weather it is enticed—Dzierzon says by the heat itself. Von Berlepsch by the contagious example of neighbouring hives—to carry out in a hurry that which ought to have received some ten days' preliminary care. "An internal revolution is made," says the Baron, "and they rush forth for the swarm. The queen, as becomes the pseudo-sovereign of a democratic monarchy, hastens to prove to her people their most obedient servant, and there the swarm is, hanging on the first convenient tree." On the following morning it will in such case be found that worker cells have been transformed into royal ones.
An instance illustrating the way in which bees sometimes make provision beforehand of a place to fly to when about to swarm came under our own notice a few years since. A lady who lived about a quarter of a mile from our apiary sent to us to say that a swarm had gone in at a hole over her stable, and to ask us to come and hive them. On our going to do so her gardener told us that he had seen three days previous two or three bees as if reconnoitring; next day several came, and about eleven o'clock on the third day the whole swarm went in and took up their position between the rafters under the flooring. The difficulty was now to get at them. A carpenter was sent for, the boards were taken up, a hive was set over, with a brood comb placed in it to attract them, and by dint of smoke and brushing with a feather, the queen and her retinue were coaxed to ascend into the hive. Some of the bees had already gone out to forage, and there were many flying about that had not settled; so to secure these and make it easy for them, we brought the hive out, and erected a sort of platform on a pair of steps close to the hole, which we stopped. By nighttime all the out-flying bees had joined the swarm and were easily removed.
We ought to mention that we recognised this swarm from the appearance of the bees as those from the Carniolan hive left under our care by the Rev. W. C. Cotton ([page 45]), and as the queen with the swarm was the original, we had to ask that we might be allowed to take the bees back if we provided a swarm of the ordinary English bees, which offer was accepted. Mr. Cotton eventually took this colony to his residence at Frodsham near Chester, and we kept the stock, which of course had a new queen. The bees did not long retain their distinctive features.
A swarm of bees, in a natural state, contains from 10,000 to 20,000 insects. "On an average," says Dzierzon, "we may call 20,000 a strong swarm, 12,000 to 15,000 a moderate one, and 6,000 to 8,000 a weak one." Von Berlepsch by a very careful experiment estimated that there were 5,600 unloaded bees in a pound, so that when loaded for swarming there would certainly not be more than 4,000. A good swarm will therefore weigh from three to five pounds. We have known swarms not heavier than two pounds and a half that were in very excellent condition in August as regards store for the winter; though the Baron's experiments showed with remarkable conformity that for a new swarm six pounds was proportionally more profitable than any other weight, larger or smaller. For a fully furnished hive, he states, there seems really no limit but that of space—the more bees the better.
Hitherto our remarks have had reference to first or "prime" swarms; these are the best, and when a swarm is purchased, such should be bargained for. But there are also second swarms, known amongst cottage bee-keepers as "casts," one of which is often found to issue from the hive nine or ten days after the first has departed; in very rare cases such has been known as early as the third or as late as the seventeenth day. It is not always that a second swarm issues, as so much depends on the strength of the stock, the weather, and other causes; but should the bees determine to throw out another, the first hatched queen in the stock hive is prevented by her subjects from destroying the other royal princesses, as she would do if left to her own will. She in consequence becomes highly indignant; and, when thwarted in her purpose, utters, in quick succession, shrill angry sounds, much resembling Peep, peep,[15] commonly called "piping," but which more courtly apiarians have styled the vox regalis. The princesses answer her in a somewhat different note—these being, it must be understood, by this time perfectly developed queens, but afraid to quit their cells, where accordingly the brood bees feed them.
[15] So all English writers. Bees in Germany evidently speak a different language, for there the reigning queen cries, Tüh, tüh, while her imprisoned rival answers, Quah, quah.
This royal wailing continues during the evening, and is sometimes so loud as to be distinctly audible many yards from the hive. When this is the case, a swarm may usually be expected either on the next day or at latest within three days, unless the weather causes a longer postponement. This sound, when persevered in, is a sure sign of the issuing of an after-swarm, but it is in such case almost the only sign, and it must be noted that even when the bees do not intend to swarm it may sometimes be heard a day or two after a second swarm has left. If not heard it may be concluded that swarming is at an end. The second swarm is not quite so chary of weather as the first; it was the old lady who exercised so much caution, disliking to leave home except in the best of summer weather.
In some instances, owing to favourable breeding sea sons and prolific queens, a third swarm issues from the hive (usually after intervals of two or three days), which is termed a "colt;" and in remarkable instances even a fourth (after another day's interval), which in rustic phrase is designated a "filly." Mr. Langstroth says that he once had a fifth, and all five in the course of a fortnight. A swarm from a swarm is called a "maiden" swarm, and, according to bee theory, will again have the old queen for its leader: if such does occur it will probably be at about a month after the hiving. The original colony, of one or more years' duration, is known as a "stock."
When swarming is over for the season any princesses remaining in cells are torn out and destroyed as before stated, or else left to the tender mercies of the reigning sovereign. But now and then one of them slips past her assailants, "and then," says Von Berlepsch, "there ensues a regular hunt, which I have several times observed through the hive window. The queen, well knowing the fate that is in store for her, rushes away, and the bees pursue; when seized by the feet or the wings she cries out pitiably, and one queen so moved my compassion that I liberated her, put her in a queen cage, supplied her with workers and comb on a following day, and, as she became successfully fertilised, brought her through the winter."