It might seem highly presumptuous for me, at this early date, to lay claim to them, but I beg leave to enroll myself among the list of honorable candidates, and I cheerfully submit my pretensions to the suffrages of all intelligent keepers of bees.
In the chapter on Requisites, I have spoken of the ravages of the mouse, and have there described the way in which my hives are guarded against its intrusion. That some kinds of birds are fond of bees, every Apiarian knows, to his cost; still, I cannot advise that any should, on this account, be destroyed. It has been stated to me, by an intelligent observer, that the King-bird, which devours them by scores, confines himself always, in the season of drones, to those fat and lazy gentlemen of leisure. I fear however, that this, as the children say, "is too good news to be true," and that not only the industrious portion of the busy community fall a prey to his fatal snap, but that the luxurious gourmand can distinguish perfectly well, between an empty bee in search of food, and one which is returning full laden to its fragrant home, and whose honey-bag sweetens the delicious tit-bit, as the crushed unfortunate, all ready sugared, glides daintily down his voracious maw! Still, I have never yet been willing to destroy a bird, because of its fondness for bees; and I advise all lovers of bees to have nothing to do with such foolish practices. Unless we can check among our people, the stupid, as well as inhuman custom of destroying so wantonly, on any pretence, and often on none at all, the insectivorous birds, we shall soon, not only be deprived of their aerial melody, among the leafy branches, but shall lament over the ever increasing horde of destructive insects, which ravage our fields and desolate our orchards, and from whose successful inroads, nothing but the birds can ever protect us. Think of it, ye who can enjoy no music made by these winged choristers of the skies, except that of their agonizing screams, as they fall before your well-aimed weapons, and flutter out their innocent lives before your heartless gaze! Drive away as fast and as far as you please, from your cruel premises, all the little birds that you cannot destroy, and then find, if you can, those who will sympathize with you, when the caterpillars weave their destroying webs over your leafless trees, and insects of all kinds riot in glee, upon your blasted harvests! I hope that such a healthy public opinion will soon prevail, that the man or boy who is armed with a gun to shoot the little birds, will be scouted from all humane and civilized society, and if he should be caught about such contemptible business, will be too much ashamed even to look an honest man in the face. I shall close what I have to say about the birds, with the following beautiful translation of an old Greek poet's address to the swallow.
"Attic maiden, honey fed,
Chirping warbler, bear'st away,
Thou the busy buzzing bee,
To thy callow brood a prey?
Warbler, thou a warbler seize?
Winged, one with lovely wings?
Guest thyself, by Summer brought,
Yellow guest whom Summer brings?
Wilt not quickly let it drop?
'Tis not fair, indeed 'tis wrong,
That the ceaseless warbler should
Die by mouth of ceaseless song."
Merivale's Translation.
I have not the space to speak at length of the other enemies of the honied race: nor indeed is it at all necessary. If the Apiarian only succeeds in keeping his stocks strong, they will be their own best protectors, and if he does not succeed in this, they would be of little value, even if they had no enemies ever vigilant, to watch for their halting. Nations which are both rich and feeble, invite attack, as well as unfit themselves for vigorous resistance. Just so with the commonwealth of bees. Unless amply guarded by thousands ready to die in its defence, it is ever liable to fall a prey to some one of its many enemies, which are all agreed in this one opinion, at least, that stolen honey is much more sweet than the slow accumulations of patient industry.
In the Chapters on Protection and Ventilation, I have spoken of the fatal effects of dysentery. This disease can always be prevented by proper caution on the part of the bee-keeper. Let him be careful not to feed his bees, late in the season, on liquid honey, (see Chapter on [Feeding],) and let him keep them in dry and thoroughly protected hives. If his situation is at all damp, and there is danger that water will settle under his Protector, let him build it entirely above ground; otherwise it may be as bad as a damp cellar, and incomparably worse than nothing at all.
There is one disease, called by the Germans, "foul brood," of which I know nothing, by my own observation, but which is, of all others, the most fatal in its effects. The brood appear to die in the cells, after they are sealed over by the bees, and the stench from their decaying bodies infects the hive, and seems to paralyze the bees. This disease is, in two instances, attributed by Dzierzon, to feeding bees on "American Honey," or, as we call it, Southern Honey, which is brought from Cuba, and other West India Islands. That such honey is not ordinarily poisonous, is well known: probably that used by him, was taken from diseased colonies. It is well known that if any honey or combs are taken from a hive in which this pestilence is raging, it will most surely infect the colonies to which they may be given. No foreign honey ought therefore to be extensively used, until its quality has been thoroughly tested. The extreme violence of this disease may be inferred from the fact, that Dzierzon in one season, lost by it, between four and five hundred colonies! As at present advised, if my colonies were attacked by it, I should burn up the bees, combs, honey, frames, and all, from every diseased hive; and then thoroughly scald and smoke with sulphur, all such hives, and replenish them with bees from a healthy stock.
There is a peculiar kind of dysentery which does not seem to affect a whole colony, but confines its ravages to a small number of the bees. In the early stages of this disease, those attacked are excessively irritable, and will attempt to sting any one who comes near the hives. If dissected, their stomachs are found to be already discolored by the disease. In the latter stages of this complaint, they not only lose all their irascibility, but seem very stupid, and may often be seen crawling upon the ground unable to fly. Their abdomens are now unnaturally swollen, and of a much lighter color than usual, owing to their being filled with a yellow matter exceedingly offensive to the smell. I have not yet ascertained the cause of this disease.
CHAPTER XII.
LOSS OF THE QUEEN.
That the queen of a hive is often lost, and that the ruin of the whole colony soon follows, unless such a loss is seasonably remedied, are facts which ought to be well known to every observing bee-keeper.
Some queens appear to die of old age or disease, and at a time when there are no worker-eggs, or larvæ of a suitable age, to enable the bees to supply their loss. It is evident, however, that no very large proportion of the queens which perish, are lost under such circumstances. Either the bees are aware of the approaching end of their aged mother, and take seasonable precautions to rear a successor; or else she dies very suddenly, so as to leave behind her, brood of a suitable age. It is seldom that a queen in a hive that is strong in numbers and stores, dies either at a period of the year when there is no brood from which another can be reared, or when there are no drones to impregnate the one reared in her place. In speaking of the age of bees, it has already been stated that queens commonly die in their fourth year, while none of the workers live to be a year old. Not only is the queen much longer lived than the other bees, but she seems to be possessed of greater tenacity of life, so that when any disease overtakes the colony, she is usually among the last to perish. By a most admirable provision, their death ordinarily takes place under circumstances the most favorable to their bereaved family. If it were otherwise, the number of colonies which would annually perish, would be very much greater than it now is; for as a number of superannuated queens must die every year, many, or even most of them might die at a season when their loss would necessarily involve the ruin of their whole colony. In non-swarming hives, I have found cells in which queens were reared, not to lead out a new swarm, but to supply the place of the old one which had died in the hive. There are a few well authenticated instances, in which a young queen has been matured before the death of the old one, but after she had become quite aged and infirm. Still, there are cases where old queens die, either so suddenly as to leave no young brood behind them, or at a season when there are no drones to impregnate the young queens.