I prefer three of these bee-sheds, located in different parts of my garden, to one very large shed with under and upper tiers of hives: this makes less likelihood of confusion in swarming. I do not like the sheds to be placed under large trees, the drippings of which tend to create damp. Shrubs, raspberry-plants, and even gooseberry-bushes, not nearer than ten or twelve feet, form nice resting-places to the heavy-laden bees. Under and immediately around the hive should be closely-mowed grass. The front of the hive is best due south, and, if convenient, with an inclination to the east. From the east and west a rising ground, or shrubs tolerably high, are a desirable protection; they break the force of the gales. Do not place your bee-shed at a great distance from the house: bees are civilised and domestic, and delight to see children at play while they are at their work; kept out of society, they grow savage. Having selected the position, do not change it, unless imperatively and unavoidably necessary. Gelieu justly observes:—
"I have seen people shift about their hives very inconsiderately; but change of place invariably weakens them, as the bees will return to their old residence, the environs of which are so familiar to them. A hive should remain as fixed to the spot as the ancient oaks, in the hollows of which they delight to establish themselves; where they have their young, their companions, their beloved queen, and all their treasures. When the young bees take wing for the first time, they do it with great precaution, turning round and round, and fluttering about the entrance, to examine the hive well before taking flight. They do the same in returning, so that they may be easily distinguished, conducting themselves nearly after the same manner as the workers of a newly-hived swarm. When they have made a few excursions, they set off without examining the locality; and returning in full flight, will know their own hive in the midst of a hundred others. But if you change its place you perplex them, much the same as you would be if, during a short absence, some one lifted your house and placed it a mile off. The poor bees return loaded, and, seeking in vain for their habitation, either fall down and perish with fatigue, or throw themselves into the neighbouring hives, where they are speedily put to death. When hives are transported to a considerable distance, there is no fear that the bees will return. But this inconvenience would be sure to take place if they were removed only a few hundred paces from the spot they have been accustomed to. The hive may not perish, but it will be greatly weakened. In my opinion, if the situation is to be changed at all, they should be taken at least a mile and a half."
Richardson, who has offered many sensible suggestions on bee-culture, makes some very sensible remarks on this. But I do not agree with him in one of his opinions—that a south-westerly aspect is best, or that a south-eastern aspect is likely to be prejudicial, from its tempting the bees to go out in too cold spring mornings. The early sun in early spring is not excessively seductive. Besides, bees are very good judges of temperature, as they are infallible prophets of weather, and may be safely left in this matter to the exercise of their own good sense. It is also worthy of notice, that the main work of bees is over by four o'clock in the afternoon, and the setting sun is therefore less important. They are early risers, and go early to bed. But his remaining observations on bee-sheds are thoroughly good:—
"Some recommend high trees for the purpose of keeping the air calm, lest the bees should be blown down when returning home. High trees are not advisable; they form an evil themselves of greater magnitude than that which they may be designed to remove. Bees are seldom blown to the ground by mere wind; but even when they are, they can, in a great majority of cases, recover themselves. Whereas, if blown amongst trees, they will be sure to be whipped so violently by the branches, that they are absolutely hurled to the ground with such force as to render their recovery hopeless. The bees also fly low on their return, when they arrive at the immediate neighbourhood of their stand, and, consequently, high trees would be not only useless, but absolutely inconvenient. Whatever trees you wish, therefore, to plant in the immediate vicinity of the hive should be of low size, planted at the sides of the hive, so as to leave the entrance quite free. Wildman recommends them, and, I think, very judiciously, to be 'of the dwarf kind, with bushy heads, in order that the swarms which settle on them may be more easily hived.' Now, although by judicious management swarming will generally be prevented from taking place, yet, despite of our utmost care, it may accidentally occur; or the bees may quit their boxes in a body, from various causes—some of which I shall endeavour hereafter to explain—and, under such circumstances, Mr. Wildman's suggestions will be found valuable. The garden, therefore, in which you fix your stands should be thus planted; and I further, for the same reasons, recommend wall fruit trees and espaliers.
"Avoid a site near mills or other noisy places, or the neighbourhood of bad smells, as factories and the like; and if, as occasionally may happen, your stand be placed against your garden wall, behind which is the farm-yard, let not a dunghill be built against the opposite side. I have witnessed this before now, and in one instance found the consequence to be a desertion of the boxes. Do not place your stand where you see rat or mouse holes, and let your shed be all of wood, never thatched with straw, as that substance harbours mice, moths, and other similar enemies to your stock.
"Water is essential to the well-being of your bees; it must, however, be presented to them judiciously, or it will prove a greater evil than a good. If you can coax a shallow rippling brook through your garden, so much the better; if not, place near the stand small, shallow, earthen pans of water, and put some pebbles in them. This water must be changed daily. It is highly objectionable to have a pond or canal in your neighbourhood: you will lose thousands of your bees through their means every season, as they will be constantly blown into them when returning heavily laden to the hive, especially in the evening, when wearied after the toil of an industriously spent day. The pebbles in the troughs are for the bees to rest on while drinking, and are the recommendation of Columella. I have seen tin plates perforated with holes, and placed over the pans just on the surface of the water, used for drinking-vessels for bees; I, however, prefer the pebbles."
I have found it a very good plan to place two or three soup-plates filled with pure water mixed largely with round pebbles in front of the bee-house; they thus find water to drink and stepping-stones for their tiny feet, which keep their wings out of water. In long-continued dry and hot summers, I have also been in the habit of using a common garden-squirt, with the end perforated by a dozen pin-holes. The water thus showered on the bee-house at noon cools it, and does not strike down the bees, and seems most acceptable to them all.
The shed should be kept scrupulously clean and dry. Earwigs, snails, and spiders will all try hard to establish their quarters under the warmth of the hives, and must be repelled. Nothing but the bee-master's frequent but quiet and undemonstrative use of a good hard painter's brush, perfectly dry, will keep these pests at a distance. I am no advocate of killing a single living thing, but if these unproductive creatures will prey on the most productive of insects, and kill and steal, there is no help for it. The bee-master must keep his bee-sheds particularly clean; and as spiders and earwigs love dust and dirt, and are inseparable from it, they must go with it. At all events, I cannot give them hospitality in my bee-house.
For people to whom expense is no object, the bee-houses of Messrs. Neighbour are perfect—as ornamental as they are efficient.
Their two-hive shed is as follows:—