The Insect World / Being a Popular Account of the Orders of Insects; Together with a Description of the Habits and Economy of Some of the Most Interesting Species

by Louis Figuier

At the moment which precedes their exit, the buzzing increases in the hive. Some of the workers go out first, as if to ascertain the state of the atmosphere. The moment the queen has passed the threshold, the emigrants follow in a cloud behind her; in an instant the air is darkened with bees, which crowd together and form a thick cloud. The swarm rises, whirling round about in the air; it poises itself for a few minutes over the hive, to allow time to reconnoitre, and for the laggards to join, and then goes off at full speed.

The queen does not make choice of the place where the company shall find shelter. When a branch of a tree has been selected by a certain number, they fix themselves on it. Many others follow them. When a great many have collected, the queen joins the throng, and brings in her train the rest of the troop. The group already formed becomes larger and larger every instant. Those which are still scattered about in the air hasten to join the majority, and very soon all together compose one solid mass or clump of bees clinging to each other by their legs. This cluster ([Fig. 322]) is sometimes spherical, sometimes pyramidal, and occasionally attains a weight of nine pounds, and may contain as many as 40,000 bees. From this moment, although they are uncovered, they remain still. In a quarter of an hour everything becomes quiet, and the bees cease to hover about the cluster more than round an ordinary hive. Now is the moment to take possession of the swarm in a hive prepared beforehand to receive it. If delayed too long, the troop flies off, and establishes itself in some natural cavity, as the hollow of a tree, &c. The bees then return to their wild state.

Under a warm climate, where flowers abound, the hives may cast several times in succession. The first swarm, however, is always the best. It is more numerous, and has before it more time to provision itself. If the weather remains favourable, it is not rare to see it send out a swarm itself three weeks after leaving the old hive. The old queen then leads the emigration of the second swarm, abandoning the colony she had lately founded. If the original hive sends forth several swarms, the interval between the first and the second is from seven to ten days; the third and the fourth follow at shorter intervals. But these late casts have rarely vitality enough to exist long.

Fig. 322.—Cluster of Bees hanging to a branch.

A swarm never returns to a hive it has once left. It is surprising then that a hive can furnish a second swarm after the interval of a few days, without being too much weakened. But the old queen, in quitting her domain, leaves behind her a considerable quantity of brood. These larvæ are not long in re-peopling the hive, so as to furnish a second swarm. The third and the fourth casts weaken the population more perceptibly; but there remain still enough workers to continue operations. In some cases the agitation of the cast is so great as to cause all the bees to quit the hive together, leaving it deserted; but this desertion only lasts an instant, one part of the swarm wisely returning to their home.

All those which start away become members of the new colony. When the general delirium we have spoken of has taken possession of them, they precipitate themselves together, they pile themselves up all at the same time by the door of the hive, and get so hot as to perspire freely. Those which are in the midst of the mêlée bear the weight of the whole crowd, and seem bathed in sweat. Their wings become damp, and they are no longer able to fly, and even if they manage to escape, they get no further than the stand, and are not long in re-entering the hive, instead of following the main body of the emigrants. We must not forget that a part of the population is always out at those hours of the day when the swarms take place, engaged in collecting provisions; and having collected the spoil, these workers return to the hive abandoned by the greater part of their companions, and betake themselves to their usual occupations, as if nothing had happened. They form the nucleus of the new population, which is soon enlarged by the hatching of the pupæ. We have already said that the first swarm is always led by the old queen or mother, and that it starts before the hatching of the young females. If she had not gone out before their birth she would have destroyed them, and the new hive would have been unable to re-organise itself for the want of a chief.

The first swarm having set out, those bees which remain in the hive pay particular attention to the royal cells. If the young queens make efforts to escape from them, their guardians watch them narrowly, and as the prisoners destroy their covers of wax the guards restore them; but as they do not desire the death of the inmates, they pass in some honey through the opening before they close it, so as to ameliorate their captivity. At the appointed moment, the issue of the first egg laid quits her cradle. Very soon she yields to the murderous instinct which impels her to destroy her rivals, so that she may reign with individual sway over the community. She searches for the cells in which these are shut up, but the moment she approaches them the workers pinch her, pull her about, drive her away, and oblige her to move on, and, as the royal cells are numerous, she finds with difficulty any corner in her hive where she may be at rest. Incessantly tormented by the desire of attacking the other females, and incessantly driven back by the guard, she becomes very much excited, passes through the different groups of workers at a run, and communicates to them her agitation. She leads the inmates of the hive the same sort of dance frequently in the course of the day.

Sometimes the young queen at the end of her attempts utters a shrill song, analogous to that of the grasshopper. This song, so unusual among these insects, has the effect of petrifying the bees. So says Francis Huber, speaking of a queen which had just been hatched, and which was trying in vain to satisfy her jealous instincts. "She sang," says he, "twice. When we saw her producing this sound, she was motionless, her thorax rested against the honeycomb, her wings being crossed on her back, and she moved them about without un-crossing them, and without opening them. Whatever cause it was that made her choose this attitude, the bees seemed affected by it, all of them now lowered their heads and remained motionless. Next day the hive presented the same appearances, there remained still twenty-three royal cells, which were all assiduously guarded by a great number of bees. The moment the queen approached these, all the guards were in a state of agitation, surrounded her, bit her, hustled her in every way, and generally finished by driving her off; sometimes when this happened she sang, resuming the attitude which I just now described; from that moment the bees became motionless." [91] But the fever which had seized on the young queen ended by communicating itself to her subjects, and, at a particular moment, a new swarm set out under her guidance.