MENDING BROKEN COMBS.
Where two combs do not touch, and yet are close together, a small bar is constructed from one to the other, preventing any nearer approach. (This may be illustrated by turning the hive a few inches from the perpendicular after being filled with combs in warm weather.)
MAKING PASSAGES TO EVERY PART OF THEIR COMBS.
Should nearly all the combs in the hive become detached from any cause, and lie on the bottom in one "grand smash of ruin," their first steps are, as just described, pillars from one to the other to keep them as they are. In a few days, in warm weather, they will have made passages by biting away combs where they are in contact, throughout every part of the mass; little columns of wax below, supporting the combs above,—irregular, to be sure, but as well as circumstances admit. Not a single piece can be removed without breaking it from the others, and the whole will be firmly cemented together. A piece of comb filled with honey, and sealed up, may be put in a glass box with the ends of these cells so sealed, touching the glass. The principle of allowing no part of their tenement to be in a situation inaccessible, is soon manifested. They immediately bite off the ends of the cells, remove the honey that is in the way, and make a passage next to the glass, leaving a few bars from it to the comb, to steady and keep it in its position. A single sheet of comb lying flat on the bottom-board of a populous swarm is cut away under side, for a passage in every direction, numerous little pillars of wax being left for its support. How any person in the habit of watching their proceedings, with any degree of attention, could come at the conclusion that the bees raised such comb by mechanical means and then put under the props for its support, is somewhat singular. Their efforts united for such a purpose like reasonable beings, I never witnessed.
These things, considered as the effect of instinct, are none the less wonderful on that account. I am not sure but the display of wisdom is even greater than if the power of planning their own operations had been given them.
I have mentioned these, to show that a course of action called forth by the peculiar situation of one family, would be copied by another in a similar emergency, without being aware of its ever being done before. Were I engaged in a work of fiction, I might let fancy reign and endeavor to amuse, but this is not the object. Let us endeavor then to be content with truth, and not murmur with its reality. When we take a survey of the astonishing regularity with which they construct their combs without a teacher, and remember that the waxen material is formed in the rings of their body, that for the first time in life, without an experienced leader's direction, they apply a claw to detach it, that they go forth to the fields and gather stores unbidden by a tyrant's mandate, and throughout the whole cycle of their operations, one law and power governs. Whoever would seek mind as the directing power, must look beyond the sensorium of the bee for the source of all we behold in them!
CHAPTER XXIV.
STRAINING HONEY AND WAX.
When about to remove the contents of a hive, I have never found it necessary to use all the precautions often recommended to prevent the access of bees. I have seen it stated that a room in which there was a chimney open, would be unsuitable, as the bees would scent the honey, and thus find their way down into the room. I never was thus troubled by their perpendicular travelling. It is true, if the day was warm, and a door or window was standing open, the bees would find their way in during a scarcity of honey. But with doors and windows closed no difficulty need be apprehended.