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 being stung by 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. 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; sometimes 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. Occasionally, even a skilful apiarian may inadvertently crush a single bee; such a mischance is detected by the 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, the safest and best retreat is a green bush. Thrust your head into this, and 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. Those familiar with the usual microscopic objects will know how marvellously delicate, and yet effective, is the mechanical structure of a bee's sting. This 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. From the sheath is projected the dart, which is double, each half of it piercing alternately deeper into the wound made by the sheath. The dart is barbed on each side, so that the bee when very angry is scarcely ever able to withdraw it:—
"Deems life itself to vengeance well resigned;
Dies on the wound, and leaves the sting behind."
If the patient who receives the sting could only take it patiently, it would not prove half the inconvenience to him that often is the case. 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. 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 homœpathically 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 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 neutralize when brought into contact with it. Spirits of hartshorn will generally be found effectual for the purpose, and should 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.
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.
POLLEN; OR, FOOD FOR INFANT BEES.
Bees, when fully grown, feed almost wholly on honey; but the larvæ require for their development a more substantial kind of nourishment. Such solid fare is found by the bees in the pollen of flowers, a farina which contains some of those nitrogenous elements in which honey is deficient. The body of a worker-bee is covered with hairs, to which the pollen adheres when, by contact with the bee, it is rubbed from the anthers and stamens of flowers. The bee with its fore legs then brushes it off, and moulds it into the pellet shape suitable for carrying it in the "baskets" or grooves on its thighs. Dewy mornings or humid bowers suit the bees for the gathering of the pollen. If the atmosphere be too dry for kneading it into pellets, they roll themselves in the blossoms, and trust to the good offices of the bees at home, who, on their return, brush off the farina into the cells intended for it, A portion of this "bee bread" is taken at once by the "nursing bees," which are supposed to subject it to some change before offering it to the larvæ; but the greater part of the pollen is stored away, and sealed over in the cells for future use. In April and May the bees are frequently busy "all the day" in gathering pollen, and often one community of bees will collect about twenty pounds weight of "bee bread" in one season.
One of the objects of the apiarian is to assist the bees in providing for the nurselings of the hive. A German pastor, Heer Dzierzon, first suggested the plan of providing the bees with "unbolted rye meal" as a substitute for the farina of flowers. He had observed that, in early spring before the flowers were open, his bees had entered a neighbouring corn mill, from whence they returned laden with rye flour. Since his discovery, most bee-keepers in early spring place either rye or wheat meal near the apiaries; to this artificial store the bees repair by thousands, and seem to rollick in the enjoyment of so much plenty, many of them returning to the hive as dusty as millers. The object in thus supplying them is, that the brood may be rapidly brought forward and early swarming induced. In this way, a few pounds of rye meal at one penny per pound may tend to the production of very many pounds of honey of twelve times the price.