Mice, especially the red mouse, or Sorex araneus, sometimes penetrate a hive in the winter time, either from the entrance being left too wide, or by gnawing a hole for themselves in the straw. They eat the honey, and even the bees, when clustered together on the side of the hive, in which position they are unable to defend themselves, and scarcely even see the enemy. I have frequently seen a mouse's nest inside of a hive in spring, seemingly unperceived by the inhabitants.
Wasps are also reckoned among the numerous enemies of bees. I have, however, seldom seen a hive destroyed by wasps: although they are larger, stronger, and armed with a formidable sting, and an impenetrable cuirass, they seldom dare enter a well stocked hive. Once attacked, they soon fall beneath the united efforts of these brave citizens, who sacrifice themselves to defend the place of their nativity. Wasps only appear in great numbers when the fruit is ripening, and then they range unceasingly round the hives, and enter the weak ones, or those of which the too spacious lodging hears no proportion to the number of its inhabitants. There are three ways of providing against the attacks of wasps. The first, is to unite weak hives by doubling or tripling the population, thereby enabling them to defend themselves. The second, is to contract the entrances as soon as the swarming time is over, after the massacre of the drones: and the third is, to destroy their nests.
The bees are continually fighting between themselves, and robbing each other; avarice, not necessity, leads them to do so, it being almost always the strongest and best provisioned hives that pillage the weak ones. When once a bee has been able to introduce herself into a hive, and carry away a load of honey without being arrested, she will return a hundred times the same day; and, making it known to her companions, they will then come in hordes, nor cease their pillage until there is nothing left to take. In one day the whole of the honey will be carried off, and with a determination which one can scarcely have an idea of without seeing it. This kind of pillage is most frequent in the spring and autumn, and it is easier to prevent than to stop it; and, for this purpose, the entrance of the hives ought to be straitened in proportion to the population. Four soldiers, as I have already said, will more easily guard a narrow pass than thirty or forty would defend a great one. Whenever the bees cluster themselves in front of the hive, it is a proof that the whole of the interior is filled, and there is then no fear of pillage, excepting in a very rare case, when they happen not to observe the thieves, and of which I shall speak presently. In proportion as the cluster increases, the entrance should be widened, even opened entirely, and contracted again in the autumn after the destruction of the drones. When these precautions are not sufficient, and the pillage has commenced, it is not easy to stop it. It may succeed, however, in spring or autumn, by entirely closing the entrance of the besieged hive for one or two days, and putting a large cape upon it, or an empty hive, plastering it all round to prevent the bees getting out. This affords them a volume of air sufficient to prevent them from being suffocated, and they go up and down at pleasure through the hole in the top of the hive from which the stopper must have been previously withdrawn; every evening the entrance must be opened to give them air, and carefully shut up again in the morning. I have always found the two days seclusion sufficient to put a stop to the pillage. But this means is not practicable during the hot weather, for then the bees would infallibly be suffocated, if they were to be shut up but one hour. In this case, I have saved several by covering them with a wet table-cloth, and extending it over the front of the hive. The thieves, who were arriving in hundreds, threw themselves into the neighbouring hives, where they were arrested and killed; for all theft, even suspicion of theft, is invariably punished with death in these republics. Some of the thieves that happen to escape, regain their own dwellings, and warn their companions to beware of returning, and next day there will be no more thieving. I have never been obliged to spread the wet table-cloth a second time. True, many of the bees of the hive I was defending were sacrificed, returning from the fields, and being unable to gain admittance, they perished in some way or other: it was a small sacrifice, to avert a greater evil, but my hive was saved, and that was my object. It is a cure that does not always succeed, however, and is quite useless when the besieged hive is a weak one, or if much of the honey has been carried away.
I shall not speak of toads, lizards, and all kinds of reptiles, that are ranked among the enemies of the bees, for I have never seen that they did them much harm.
CHAPTER XXV.
DISEASES OF THE BEES.
Bees have no real disease. Dysentery, about which so much noise has been made, and for which so many remedies are prescribed, never attacks the bees of a well-stocked hive, that is left open at all seasons, but only those that are too long and too closely confined. They are always in good health as long as they are at liberty, when they are warm enough, and have plenty of food. All their pretended diseases are the result of hunger, cold, or the infection produced by a too close and long confinement during the winter.
Some intelligent people have erroneously thought that the honey gathered from the flowers of the lime-tree caused dysentery, but experience convinced me to the contrary; for my hives were never in better condition than when the lime-tree flowers supplied them with honey in abundance.