CHAPTER XXIII.
SAGACITY OF BEES.
ARE NOT BEES DIRECTED ALONE BY INSTINCT?
On this subject I have but little to say, as I have failed to discover anything uncommonly remarkable, separate and distinct in one swarm, that another would not exhibit. I have found one swarm guided alone by instinct, doing just what another would under the same circumstances.
Writers, not contented with the astonishing results of instinct, with their love of the marvellous, must add a good share of reason to their other faculties,—"an adaptation of means to ends, that reason alone could produce." It is very true, without close inspection, and comparing the results of different swarms in similar cases, one might arrive at such conclusion. It is difficult, as all will admit, "to tell where instinct ends, and reason begins." Instances of sagacity, like the following, have been mentioned. "When the weather is warm, and the heat inside is somewhat oppressive, a number of bees may be seen stationed around the entrance, vibrating their wings. Those inside will turn their heads towards the passage, while those outside will turn theirs the other way. A constant agitation of air is thus created, thereby ventilating the hive more effectually." All full stocks do this in hot weather.
WHAT THEY DO WITH PROPOLIS.
"A snail had entered the hive and fixed itself against the glass side. The bees, unable to penetrate it with their stings, the cunning economists fixed it immovably, by cementing merely the edge of the orifice of the shell to the glass with resin, (propolis), and thus it became a prisoner for life." Now the instinct that prompts the gathering of propolis in August, and filling every crack, flaw, or inequality about the hive, would cement the edges of the snail-shell to the glass, and a small stone, block of wood, chip, or any substance that they are unable to remove, would be fastened with it in the same manner. The edges or bottom of the hive, when in close proximity to the bottom, is joined to it with this substance. Whatever the obstacle may be, it is pretty sure to receive a coating of this. The stoppers for the holes at the top are held in their places on the same principle; and the unaccountable sagacity that once fastened a little door, might possibly be nothing more than the same instinct.
Another principle, I think, will be found to be universal with them, instead of sagacious reasoning.
Whenever the combs in a hive have been broken, or when combs have been added, as was mentioned in the chapter on fall management, the first duty of the bees appears to be to fasten them as they are; when the edges are near the side of the hive, or two combs in contact, a portion of wax is detached and used for joining them together, or to the side.