Having suffered loss in our own apiary from the attacks of wasps, we feel it desirable to give a detailed account of our own troubles from that cause. One of our Ligurian stocks was besieged and worried by wasps to such an extent, that the bees deserted it on the 5th of September, (1864). Fortunately, the bees chose a time for their departure just as we visited the apiary. An unusual turmoil was heard in the hive, such as is experienced at the time of swarming, and on immediately examining the entrance, we observed that the bees were quitting in tumultuous haste. The usual methods that induce bees to settle were tried—amongst others, that of throwing sand up into the air, so as it should fall down amongst the bees on the wing; but they were dispersed in disorder, and their flight extended over three adjacent gardens. We only discovered the clustered bees by diligent search, as the sequel will show. Permission being asked of our next door neighbour, we searched his garden to see if our bees had alighted there; but found that they had passed over. Making a similar application to the owner of the garden adjoining, we entered, having a straw hive in hand, but no bees were there. After looking diligently all round, and climbing the wall, thereby gaining a view of the third garden, we perceived in it unmistakable signs of an unwonted commotion. The occupiers of the house were intently looking at a particular part of the garden, and there was a dustpan and a key, with which the master had been "tanging the bees" to induce them to settle. We quickly made for the proper entrance to the garden, and soon discovered our little wanderers clustered to a large flower vase. Our neighbours, however, were sadly disappointed of their prize, for the gardener had hastily been dispatched into the town to purchase a hive for the welcome colonists. In depriving our neighbours of so unexpected and cheaply acquired a treasure, we could sympathise with their regret, having been much disheartened half-an-hour before at our own loss; but, of course, we could do no other than claim our own bees. We gladly agreed to defray the expense of the straw hive that had been purchased for the sake of our truant swarm. After brushing the bees into the hive, and leaving it propped up with a stick, in order that the stray ones might join, we returned home for an hour or so, to give them time to settle. Judge of our vexation when on returning to fetch the hive home, we found that the refractory creatures had again taken flight, and that all the work was to do over again. The wasps were not to blame for this second flight of the Ligurians; we judged that the swarm had been disturbed by visits from a colony of bees that we discovered were living the life of outlaws under the roof of an adjoining house. Although much disheartened and perplexed, we at once renewed our search, and, upon enquiry, found that the missing bees had taken a southerly course across the turnpike road, and it was therefore necessary to ask permission to search the gardens of the houses opposite. From one of these we observed, on looking through the hedge, that the inhabitants of the next house were on the qui vive. On enquiring whether they had seen a colony of bees, the wary old dame replied that she "had no bees but her own," and added that "they were very much excited." Having asked permission to go through the hedge to look at her bees, we soon discovered our Ligurians on the top of the old lady's bee-house. There was no difficulty in identifying our own bees; their yellow rings were as good as a private mark. Quickly hiving the swarm, we took them home, and replaced them in the hive they had quitted. It was almost destitute of honey; but by liberal feeding, and lessening the entrance so that only one bee at a time could find ingress or egress, we succeeded in inducing them to rest in their old home. Thus nearly half a day's exertion was needed to save a fine colony, which would otherwise have been utterly lost by the power of the relentless wasps.
Much watchfulness is needed to prevent the loss of swarms, and the foregoing incident may serve to suggest the necessity of having hives so located as to be constantly within view, either from the dining room, or of those whose duties oblige them to be near the apiary. If we had not happened to be at hand at the moment this colony started, it would have been irretrievably lost to us. Many swarms and colonies are lost simply because the departure takes place without any one witnessing it. Let us hope that runaway bees may always fall into the hands of those who are as capable of taking care of them as our neighbours appeared to be on the occasion we have described.
Another formidable enemy of bees are the moths. These insects are creatures of the night, as the bees of the day, and they make their way into the hives under cover of darkness, in spite of the bee-sentinels. They deposit their eggs in any crevices in or near the hive that they can find. There the warmth of the hive or of the sheltered situation, causes the eggs speedily to hatch, and then the maggots soon work their way to the comb and larvæ food, which they greedily devour, thereby often bringing about the gradual but certain destruction of the whole community of bees. The best way of keeping moths outside the hives is to lessen the entrance, as before alluded to. Also, in the early spring, the hives should be lifted from their floorboards, which must then be made thoroughly clean, and all crevices and corners about the hive and stand should be scraped, so as to get rid of all eggs of moths and other insects before the warm weather hatches them or enables them to do mischief. The bee-moth is not so troublesome in England as it is in America and some parts of Germany; but still its encroachments should be carefully guarded against in this country, for if not, it may easily increase to a very serious extent.
DRAINING HONEY FROM THE COMBS.
Those of our readers who prefer eating "run honey" to honey in the comb, may be glad of some instruction as to the best way of separating the two. For this purpose, it is better to let the honey run without squeezing, in order to preserve both its transparency and flavour.
Take a sharp knife, and slice the combs on both sides, keeping the knife parallel with the partition wall, so that every cell may be laid open. Place these broken combs in a sieve, or on a piece of muslin stretched across and tied round the opening of a pan or large mouthed jar. Allow the honey to flow out of the combs spontaneously, and reserve the squeezing process for a separate jar, so that the honey of the first drained jar may be perfectly pure, both in appearance and flavour. That which has pressure put on it will be waxy in flavour and thick. Some persons recommend that the opened combs be placed in the sun, as the heat will cause the honey to run more freely. The great disadvantage of this is, the temptation the honey will offer to bees, who will be eager to gain a share. Honey whilst in the combs keeps remarkably well when left in the supers; if cut out, the combs should be folded in writing paper and sealed up, so as effectually to prevent free entrance of air; they should then be placed in a warm dry closet.
Honey, like most vegetable products, should be fresh every year. It may easily be kept from one season to another; but when kept beyond that time, unless very carefully stored in a warm temperature, it will crystallize in the comb, and it is liable to ferment when in jars separated from the comb.
GENERAL REMARKS.
Every bee-keeper should be a book-keeper; that is, so far as to have a permanent record of the events of the apiary and the fortunes of his bees. A book similar to a tradesman's journal would be very suitable for the purpose. In it he should note down the date of the first swarm of the season especially, and those of the other swarms also; and in autumn, the quantity of honey taken from each hive should be entered, with remarks on the probable size of the various stocks. These particulars will not only be interesting for the bee-keeper to turn to in winter, but will be of practical service in enabling him to know the exact age and probable strength of each stock. The bee-book may also be contrived to show the total amount of honey that the bees have produced for their owner, and the net money profit of the apiary. A simple and clear account Like this—provided, by the bye, that it does show a satisfactory balance—will be very useful for inducing cottagers and farm labourers to start bee-keeping. Nothing like ocular demonstration for this class. The "humane" apiarian will reason with them in vain until he shows them a monster "skep" of honey, and mentions the price that it will fetch in the market. When convinced that the depriving system will pay, the cottager will gladly adopt it.
A writer in the Quarterly Review gives the following good advice:—"Don't bore the cottager with long lectures; don't heap upon him many little books; but give him a hive of the best construction, show him the management, and then buy his honey; buy all he brings, even though you should have to give the surplus to some gardenless widow. But only buy such as comes from an improved hive—and you cannot easily be deceived in this,—one which preserves the bees and betters the honey. Then, when you pay him, you may read to him, if you will, the wise rules of old Butler," exempli gratia:—