INSTINCTS OF BEES.
All creatures, of whatever size, that live together in large communities, have long been observed to display more knowledge and ingenuity than those that do not congregate: this superiority is also supposed to distinguish those which possess the most exquisite sense of touch, and whose occupations require a continued exertion of their powers. The insect tribe strongly confirm the truth of these remarks.
Solitary insects may exhibit a single trait of superiority, either in the catching of their prey, as the spider does; or in the securing of a well protected habitation, as is instanced by the carpenter bee, the mason bee, and some other lone and non-associating insects: but the history of those which unite in societies unfolds more of insect energy and talent. In large communities a combination of exertions is requisite, to procure supplies for the general weal; an intercourse of mutual intelligence is kept up; labour is regularly divided; the sphere of action is extended; and in cases of emergency, there is an unusual manifestation of insect power and intelligence. Instances of all these faculties are eminently conspicuous in the honey-bee;—some of them I have before noticed, and shall now advert to a few more.
The mental powers of bees, if I may be allowed to use the term, have been included, by some writers under the general name of Instinct[U]; others, considering the whole of their proceedings to be fraught with intelligence, have regarded them as evidences of a reasoning power. All the phænomena of insect life cannot I presume be explained without giving them credit for both.
[U] Huber has observed that the instinct of the humble-bee is still more refined than that of the honey-bee. As an instance of this, he states that the former when unable to penetrate a flower through its natural cavity, makes an aperture at the base of the corolla, or even of the calyx, and insinuates its proboscis into the reservoir of honey, through the opening it has made.
“Deem not, vain mortal, that reserv’d for thee
Hangs all the ripening fruit on reason’s tree;
Even these, the tiniest tenants of thy care,
Claim of that reason, their apportion’d share:
Witness yon slaughter’d snail, within their door,
Tomb’d like the first bold Greek on Ilion’s shore.”
Evans.
A snail having crept into one of M. Reaumur’s hives early in the morning, after crawling about for some time, adhered by means of its own slime to one of the glass panes, where, but for the bees, it would probably have remained, till either a moist air or its own spume had loosened the adhesion. The bees having discovered the snail, immediately surrounded it, and formed a border of propolis round the verge of its shell, which was, at last, so securely fixed to the glass, as to become immoveable, either by the moisture of the air from without, or by the snail’s secretion from within.
“Nor aught avails that in his torpid veins,
Year after year, life’s loitering spark remains[V]:
For ever clos’d the impenetrable door,
He sinks on death’s cold arm to rise no more.”
Evans.