The working bees are the people, the crowd, the servum pecus, the living force, the bee community. They are recognised by their small size, reddish brown colour, and, above all, by the palettes and brushes with which the hind legs are furnished.
The three pairs of legs which are inserted in its thorax are its tools. The two hind-legs are longer than the other pairs, and present on the exterior a triangular depression, resembling a palette, which is surrounded by stiff hairs, forming, as it were, the borders of a sort of basket, in which the insect deposits the pollen of flowers. The broadest part of the leg articulates with the tarsus, which is of a square form, smooth on the exterior, and having hairs on its interior surface, which has caused it to be named the brush. The joint is used for gathering the pollen; it folds back on the leg ([Fig. 310]), and forms with it a sort of small pair of pincers; and, finally, the leg is terminated by four smaller articulations, the last of which is armed with hooks. The other tools of the working bee consist of a pair of movable mandibles, which close the mouth on its two sides, and of a trunk or proboscis ([Fig. 311]), which may be considered as a sort of tongue.
| Fig. 310.—Leg of a Bee (magnified). | Fig. 311.—Trunk of a Bee (magnified). |
With its mandibles the working bee seizes any hard substance. The trunk serves it to collect the juice lying on the surface of the petals, or at the bottom of the corolla of the flower. When a bee has settled on a full-blown flower, it is seen immediately to make for the interior of the corolla, to put out its trunk, and apply it to the petals; it lengthens, shortens, and twists and bends it in all directions. When the hairy surface of this organ is covered with vegetable juice, the bee returns it to its mouth, and deposits the booty in a conduit, whence the juice passes into the first stomach. This trunk is then, in all respects, a tongue, with which the bee sucks, licks, and pumps up the honey of flowers. But it also gathers the pollen. When it enters a flower the bee covers itself with pollen from head to foot, and then passing its brushes carefully over its whole body, removes the dust which adheres to it in every part, and piles it up on the triangular palettes of its hind-legs, in such a manner as to form balls of greater or less size. If the flower is not quite full blown, the bee makes use of its mandibles to open the anthers, in which case the front pair of legs transmit the booty to the second pair, which stores them in the baskets of the third. When it has gathered as much as it can carry, the bee returns to the hive, its legs laden with pollen.
| Fig. 312.—Male, or Drone (Apis mellifica). | Fig. 313.—Female, or Queen (Apis mellifica). |
This complete set of tools which we have just described is only to be met with among the working bees. The males, or drones ([Fig. 312]), larger and more hairy than the working bees, emitting a sonorous and buzzing sound, have no palettes on their legs, the hairs on their tarsi are not appropriated to the work of gathering, their mandibles are shorter, and they have no aculeus, or sting, which is the working bee's weapon.
The female, or queen ([Fig. 313]), is smaller than the male, and has a longer body than the working bees, and the wings, shorter in proportion, cover only the half of its body, whereas with the other bees they cover it entirely. The only part she has to play is that of laying eggs, and so she has no palettes and brushes. The sovereign is, as suits her supreme rank, exempted from all work. She is always escorted by a certain number of working bees, who brush her, lick her, present honey to her with their trunks, save her every kind of fatigue, and compose a train worthy of her feminine majesty. One very remarkable fact is that only one queen lives in each hive. Perfect sovereign of this tiny state, she rules over a people of some thousands of workers. It is not rare to find 20,000 working bees in a hive, and all submissively obey their sovereign. The number of males is scarcely one-tenth part of that of the working bees; and they only live about three months. The workers represent the active life of the community.
"The exterior of a hive," says M. Victor Rendre, "gives the best idea of this people, essentially laborious. From sunrise to sunset, all is movement, diligence, bustle; it is an incessant series of goings and comings, of various operations which begin, continue, and end, to be recommenced. Hundreds of bees arrive from the fields, laden with materials and provisions; others cross them and go in their turn into the country. Here, cautious sentinels scrutinise every fresh arrival; there, purveyors, in a hurry to be back at work again, stop at the entrance to the hive, where other bees unload them of their burdens; elsewhere it is a working bee which engages in a hand-to-hand encounter with a rash stranger; farther on the surveyors of the hive clear it of everything which might interfere with the traffic or be prejudicial to health; at another point the workers are occupied in drawing out the dead body of one of their companions; all the outlets are besieged by a crowd of bees coming in and going out, the doors hardly suffice for this hurrying, busy multitude. All appears disorder and confusion at the approaches to the hive, but this tumult is only so in appearance; an admirable order presides over this emulation in their work, which is the distinctive feature in bees." [82] A very simple calculation may serve to give us an idea of this prodigious activity. The opening of a well-stocked hive gives passage to one hundred bees a minute, which makes, from five o'clock in the morning till seven o'clock in the evening, eighty thousand re-entrances, or four excursions for each bee, supposing there is a population of twenty thousand workers.
Let us now follow their occupations from the moment in which they establish themselves in a hive. The workers begin by stopping up all the openings except one door, which is always to remain open. A certain number set out to look for a resinous and sweet-scented substance, known under the name of propolis, which is destined to cover the inner surface of the hive, as its name shows, which is derived from a Greek word signifying outskirts, or suburb. Huber asserts that it is gathered from the buds of plants. This substance has not yet been employed in the arts, although it possesses the same qualities as wax, as M. de Frarière remarks in his work "On Bees and Bee-keeping."[83] The propolis is employed in Italy for making blisters. This gum is viscous and very adherent. The bee works it up into balls, and carries it in this form to the hive, where other labourers take possession of it. They seize the pellet with their mandibles, and apply it to cracks which they have to make air-tight. They use the propolis for another purpose still, which deserves to be mentioned.
It happens sometimes that an enemy penetrates into their hive, and that the bees are not strong enough to cast this intruder out of their dwelling. What do they do? As soon as they have discovered the invasion of their domicile, they set upon the impudent intruder, and sting him to death. But how can they drag out the dead body, which is often very heavy? such, for instance, as a slug. On the other hand, it would be dangerous to abandon its carcase in the midst of the hive. A Roman Emperor said that the dead bodies of our enemies always smelt good. This is not the opinion of the bees. They know that if they abandon the carcase in the hive it would infect the place, to the great danger of their health. They therefore embalm it. They encase it in propolis, which preserves it from putrefaction. It is said that the art of embalming was practised for the first time by the ancient Egyptians. It is an error: the first inventors of this art were bees.