The working bee is about thirty-six hours in spinning and weaving its cocoon or covering. It thus spends about three days, during which a wonderful change is going on. While in the larva state, the creature has no tail, wings or legs; it is a simple worm. But while it is in its swaddling clothes, the legs and wings are gradually formed, and, at the end of twenty-one days from the laying of the egg, it gnaws through its covering and comes forth a winged insect, destined to sport in the air and hold a joyous revel among the flowers. As if impatient for sport, the insect goes forth soon after its birth, and it is said that it may be seen returning to the hive, loaded with wax, the same day that it became a bee!
While the young bees are in the larva state, the utmost care is taken of them. If any member of the hive is rude or careless toward the egg, or worm, or the yet unhatched pupa, the nurses are very angry. But when the pupa has gnawed his way through his covering, he seems to be regarded as of age, and able to take care of himself. The tender care of the nurse now ceases altogether; and the working bees scramble over his head, without scruple. While he is still weak, and scarcely strong enough to get out of his cell, as if for the very purpose of making him acquainted with the hardships of life, the rude multitude of bees rush headlong by, often knocking him down, and sometimes giving him a severe poke in the side, or a thump on his skull. How much like human creatures the bees are!
I have told you how the working bee nymphs are hatched; the complete bee is formed in twenty-one days. The process is nearly the same, in respect to the queen bees and the drones; the former, however, are hatched in sixteen days, and the latter in twenty-five, from the laying of the eggs. There is one thing in respect to the royal bees, or queens, too curious to be omitted. When they are nearly ready to emerge from their cells, the bees gnaw the covering so as to make it very thin. They then eat a small hole through it, and feed the pupas for a few days. They are thus kept as prisoners, and during this time they begin to sing a faint song, called piping. This is so droll, that I can’t help writing a song, which I shall call the
LAY OF THE INFANT QUEEN BEE.
Oh let me out,
My masters—pray.
Oh let me out
To-day—to-day!
Oh let me out
To try my wing,