Robert Merry's Museum, Volumes V-VI (1843)

by Various

The hunting of wild bees is very common in the western states of this country. In some parts they are so abundant, that some persons become regular bee-hunters. Their mode of finding the hives is curious and interesting.

I must tell you that, when a bee sets off from a flower, to return to the hive, it always flies home in a straight line. It is one of the amazing instincts of this little creature, that, wherever it may be, it has the power of going to its home without deviation from a direct course. It may wander in the woods, it may sport amid the mazes of the flowery meadow, yet still the little creature never gets its head turned, never gets lost. The moment that its honey-bags are filled, it mounts upward on the breeze, and, without hesitation, speeds like an arrow to its mark.

The bee-hunter takes advantage of this curious trait in the bee. He sees in what direction the insect flies, and, by following on, is able, at last, to discover the hive. A practised bee-hunter often adopts this method. He notices the direction in which a bee flies from one flower, and sets down two or three sticks to mark the route. He then goes to a little distance, and starts another bee, and marks the route he takes. If the two lines tend toward each other, he concludes that the angle at which they meet is the point where the hive is to be found. Judging of the distance by the skill acquired by practice, the hunter proceeds to the spot, and seldom fails of finding the honey which he seeks pretty near the place which his calculations have indicated.

The scientific bee-hunter sometimes adopts the following method: he places some bee-bread, in order to tempt the bees, on a flat board or tile, and draws a circle round it with white paint. The bee always settles upon the edge of anything flat; so she must travel through the paint to reach the edge. When she flies away, the white paint on her body enables the hunter to observe her flight, and her course is marked down with a pocket compass. The same thing is done at another spot, some distance from the first, and, by comparing the direction of the two lines, the situation of the nest is easily found, as it must be at the point where the lines would meet.

We are told that, in Africa, there is a curious little hunter of the wild bee. This is a quadruped, about as large as a woodchuck, called the honey-ratel. This cunning little fellow seems to understand optics; for, when he wishes to get a distinct view of the bees, he holds up one of his fore paws, as you would your hand, in order to shade his eyes, and thus exclude from the pupil of the eye an excess of light. He watches the bees, particularly at sunset, for he knows that, like other working people, they are then retiring to their homes. Following the route they take, he is able to find out the vicinity of the hive, and, when he has come pretty near, his keen scent directs him to the honey which he seeks.

There is, also, in the wilds of Africa, a little bird called the honey-guide. This creature has the faculty of finding out where the honey is stored, and it is said that, when he meets a traveller in the wilderness, he will flutter along before him, from branch to branch, and from tree to tree, and, at last, guide him to the hive.

I remember to have read a story, of this kind, a great many years ago, when I was a boy. It was in the beautiful tale of Alphonso and Dalinda, told by Madame de Genlis, in her Tales of the Castle. I have never forgotten it; and no story, that I have since heard, has seemed half so pleasing. Does it not seem, indeed, almost like an incident of fairy land, that travellers, wandering in the wilds of Africa, should find a little bird, who becomes their guide to a feast of honey?

If I were to repeat all that Aunt Betsey Piper told her nephew about bees, I am afraid that I should fill a book. So I may as well bring this chapter to an end, after saying a few words about other kinds of bees.

I might talk a long time about the humble-bee, or, as some of my little readers call him, the bumble-bee. He is very large, and goes about with an air of importance, like some fat, bustling people that we know of. He has one habit which it is well not to imitate, and that is, of always humming a tune as he roams about. This bee makes his nest of moss, in the hayfield, usually beneath a heap of stones, or in some excavation of the earth. Two or three dozen usually assemble together, and carry on the various operations of the little community.

The mason bee builds her nest in the hole of an old wall, of little pieces of clay. She makes four or five cells, of the size of a thimble, in each of which she lays an egg. The carpenter bee makes a nest in an old post, by boring a hole, twelve inches long, with her teeth. In these holes she lays her eggs.