We are also exempt in this island of ours from the bear, unless one should break loose from the strolling menageries that occasionally infest Tunbridge Wells Common. "The bear," remarks a Yankee, "is the knowingest varmint for finding out a bee-tree in the world. They'll gnaw for days together at the trunk, till they make a hole big enough to get in their paws, and then they'll haul out the honey, bees and all."
The moth is a dangerous enemy. During the day there is no risk of his attacks. But during the night he is, like other thieves and burglars, alive and active. "He loves the darkness rather than the light, because his deeds are evil." As no bee-master can do without sleep, I cannot expect of the most enthusiastic and devoted that he will watch his hives the whole night. The only preventive measure of a mechanical sort I can recommend is that of lessening the entrance door. For this purpose he must apply a zinc slide, such as Mr. Neighbour, in Holborn, will supply, which will keep out the moth and yet let out the bees. Besides, the narrower the door, the more closed up the rank of the bee-sentinels becomes, and the more able they are to repel the death's-head moth, or any similar intruder. But the most vigorous prophylactic measure you can take is to keep your bees in full strength; and as the time selected by these depredators is the early autumn, you cannot do better than give your bees a cup of good strong ale, boiled up with sugar, which will cheer up your whole family, and enable them to put forth their whole strength in grappling with their enemies. Don't mind teetotal objections. These are all very good for drunkards; but for sober, industrious bees, determined to defend their property, a cup of good ale is as kind as it is useful. The Acherontia Atropos, or death's-head hawk-moth, not only robs the hive of its honey, but frightens and all but paralyses the bees. Huber gives an account of the exertions of his bees to guard against this formidable foe. It is here quoted from Lardner:—
"When he found his hives attacked and their store of honey pillaged by these depredators, he contracted the opening left for the exit and entrance of the bees to such an extent as, while it allowed them free ingress and egress, it was so small that their plunderers could not pass through it. This was found to be perfectly effectual, and all pillage was thenceforward discontinued in the hives thus protected.
"But it happened that in some of the hives this precaution was not adopted, and here the most wonderful proceeding on the part of the bees took place. Human contrivance was brought into immediate juxtaposition with apiarian ingenuity.
"The bees of the undefended hives raised a wall across the gate of their city, consisting of a stiff cement made of wax and propolis mixed in a certain proportion. This wall, sometimes carried directly across and sometimes a little behind the door, first completely closed up the entrance; but they pierced in it some openings just large enough to allow two bees to pass each other in their exits and entrances.
"The little engineers did not follow one invariable plan in these defensive works, but modified them according to circumstances. In some cases a single wall, having small wickets worked through it at certain points, was constructed. In others several walls were erected one within the other, placed parallel to each other, with trenches between them wide enough to allow two bees to pass each other. In each of these parallel walls several openings or wickets were pierced, but so placed as not to correspond in position, so that in entering a bee would have to follow a zigzag course in passing from wicket to wicket. In some cases these walls or curtains were wrought into a series of arcades, but so that the intervening columns of one corresponded to the arcades of the other.
"The bees never constructed these works of defence without urgent necessity. Thus, in seasons or in localities where the death's-head moth did not prevail, no such expedients were resorted to. Nor were they used against enemies which were open to attack by their sting. The bee, therefore, understands not merely the art of offensive war, and can play the part of the common soldier, but is also a consummate military engineer; and it is not against the death's-head moth alone that it shows itself capable of erecting such defences."
A correspondent of The Times, writing on naval guns, who signs himself "Z," alluded to my letters, and drew a happy illustration from them. Let me here inform the Admiralty of a new arm which in extremity—for otherwise it would be the sacrifice of too many bee combatants—may be used in naval warfare. But perhaps Lord Clarence Paget may find some difficulty in securing its adoption. It is related in "The Naturalist's Library:"—
"A small privateer with forty or fifty men, having on board some hives made of earthenware full of bees, was pursued by a Turkish galley manned by five hundred seamen and soldiers. As soon as the latter came alongside, the crew of the privateer mounted the rigging with their hives, and hurled them down on the deck of the galley. The Turks, astonished at this novel mode of warfare, and unable to defend themselves from the stings of the enraged bees, became so terrified that they thought of nothing but how to escape their fury; while the crew of the small vessel, defended by masks and gloves, flew upon their enemies sword in hand, and captured the vessel almost without resistance."
But as many of my recent correspondents in The Times were clergymen, I can recommend to the ministers of Belfast an admirable prescription for the extreme case of a Belfast mob sacking their rectories and manses. The Mayor of Belfast also might take it into his grave consideration, should the citizens, instead of trying to convert each other by arguments or Scripture, have recourse to those fashionable weapons which they lately wielded with so much effect:—