Let us suppose you have a particularly irritable colony in one of the modern hives, from which you desire to obtain the honey. The treatment must vary a trifle according to the particular design and arrangement of the hive, but the following directions, with very slight modifications, will answer for all. First confine the bees in the hive, and rap on the side of it with the palms of your hands or a small stick. The first efforts of the bees will be to escape from the hive; finding this impossible they will rush to their stores and fill themselves with honey. Should the rapping prove insufficient to frighten them and cause them to fill themselves with honey, smoke from rotten wood, which is the best, cotton rags, or tobacco, may be made to enter the hive which will have the desired effect. Bees will never sting of their own accord when gorged with food, and in this condition may be handled with impunity.
When swarming, or out of the hive for any reason, they may be “tamed” by placing water well sweetened with sugar within their reach. Bees can never resist the temptation and after they have gorged themselves with this preparation they are as harmless as when their sacks are filled with honey.
CHAPTER XIX.
“HAPPY FAMILIES”—ENEMIES BY NATURE MADE FRIENDS BY ART.
One of the most entertaining and popular features of Barnum’s Museum, during the many years of its existence, was that miscellaneous collection of minor birds, beasts, and reptiles, denominated the Happy Family. Here in a huge cage are mingled many varieties of the animal kingdom which are, in a state of nature, deadly enemies to one another. Exhibitions of this kind are very rare in this country, though more common in Europe. Probably the first one ever seen here was that imported by Barnum in 1847, and which was the foundation of the present collection; though, like the boy’s jack-knife which first had a new blade and then a new handle, and then a new blade again, it would be difficult to find any of the original importation in the collection of the present day. It seems that Barnum, at about the date we have mentioned, was in Scotland “working” Tom Thumb, who was then on a grand exhibition tour. In the neighborhood of Edinburgh he accidentally stumbled across the Happy Family, which was then, though an excellent collection of animals, a rather one-horse affair as an exhibition by itself. The shrewd showman, ever on the lookout for novelties or curiosities, genuine or otherwise, fancied he saw a good speculation and bought the whole concern for $2,500, and brought it in triumph to his museum in New York.
THE “HAPPY FAMILY” AT BARNUM’S OLD MUSEUM.
Curious and wonderful as this peaceable living together of animals of such diverse natures appears, there is really very little mystery in it. Many persons, noticing the sleepy and listless appearance of most of the animals, have quite naturally come to the conclusion that they were under the influence of some drug, which stupified them and rendered them harmless. We believe that in no case is this the fact, because it is not necessary. The main secret is to feed the animals to satiety; never allowing them to feel the pangs of hunger, the great incentive for preying upon other animals is taken away. Animals, unlike men, will never eat unless they are really hungry. We have frequently observed boa constrictors at public exhibitions, in whose cages rabbits or pigeons had been placed to gratify the public with the sight of the huge snake swallowing his food alive. Unless the snake is hungry the miserable little victims remain for days cooped up with the hideous monsters without the latter taking the slightest notice of them. It is a well known fact that cats which are fed plentifully cease to be good mousers, however excellent in that respect they have previously been, and will permit a house to be overrun with these pests without molesting them. Besides the plentiful feeding there is one other thing requisite to make the animals live together peaceably. Many animals have an instinctive desire to worry or kill others which are smaller or weaker than themselves. Between many particular animals a kind of natural antipathy exists. So natural does it seem that a dog should torment a cat that “a cat and dog life” has become typical of a very uncomfortable state of existence. There is on the part of all animals a feeling of suspicion and antagonism toward strange animals, even if they are of their own species. We are almost every day witnesses of exhibitions on a smaller scale almost as wonderful as the Happy Family, were it not that their frequency renders them common place. In thousands of households cats and dogs live together, not only without quarreling but on really friendly terms. Frequently have we seen cats and dogs feeding from the same dish, and recollect one instance where a diminutive kitten, in the innocence of feline infancy, seized upon one end of a bone which a monstrous watch dog was busily gnawing, without being molested by the dog. It is just as natural for cats to devour birds as for any beast or bird of prey to devour its victims, and yet we have been familiar with more than one instance of canary birds being allowed to fly around a room in which was the household cat, without the cat showing the least disposition to attack them. Had a strange bird came within her reach we doubt not that same cat would have indulged in a feast at his expense without hesitation. City dogs would make sad havoc among the inhabitants of any poultry yard if allowed admission therein, but let any one of those same dogs become a resident on a farm, let him understand that chickens and turkeys are sacred from his touch and he will soon walk among them as unconsciously as though there were no such things in existence. An instance is on record of a cat who had been deprived of her kittens, capturing a brood of young rats and suckling them with all the tenderness of a mother. In this case, however, it would appear that affection for the baby rats was not the motive for this strange act, for as soon as the cat was eased of the inconvenience of her milk, she disposed of her adopted family in a pleasant and effective manner—she ate them up.
In preparing animals for Happy Families it is usual to keep them in small cages, in the vicinity of each other. Occasionally two animals of different dispositions are placed together, the keeper preventing any fighting and punishing any symptoms of it. When the keeper thinks they may be safely left together he retires to a short distance to wait results. On the least sign of a quarrel he is down upon them, poking and punching and stirring them up generally. If they show no disposition to quarrel they are treated kindly, fed plentifully and permitted to enjoy themselves as much as their restricted quarters will permit. When an animal has thus learned to keep within the bounds of politeness and good breeding he is introduced into the large cage with the grand collection. In this large cage the principal disturbing elements are the monkeys, who frequently obstinately insist upon not being happy, and slinging the mice around by their tails, pulling out the birds’ feathers and other little acts of playfulness. The stout wire very soon reduces them to quietness, and it very seldom happens that any serious disturbance occurs. Doves and vultures roost calmly side by side, mice nestle confidingly in the cat’s soft, warm fur, and so natural does it all seem, that, for a moment one scarcely realizes of what incongruous elements the whole is made up.
The origin of this novel idea of the Happy Family was probably this: Francesco Michelo was the only son of a carpenter who resided in Tempio, a town in the island of Sardinia. He had two sisters younger than himself, and he had only attained his tenth year when a fire reduced his father’s house to ruins, and at the same time caused the death of the carpenter himself. The family were thus reduced to beggary, and the boy in order to provide for the necessities of his mother and sisters took up the occupation of catching birds for sale. Constructing a cage of considerable dimensions from laths he proceeded to the woods to secure the nests of young birds. Being active and industrious he succeeded tolerably well, but the prices he obtained were not adequate to the maintenance of the family. In this dilemma the boy conceived a new and original method for increasing his income; necessity is the mother of invention, and he meditated no less a project than to train a young Angora cat to live harmlessly in the midst of his favorite songsters. Such is the force of habit, such the power of education, that by slow degrees he taught the martial enemy of his winged pets to live, to eat, to drink, and to sleep in the midst of his little charges without once attempting to devour or injure them. The cat, whom he called Bianca, suffered the little birds to play all manner of tricks with her; and never did she extend her talons or harm them in any way.
He went even farther, and taught the cat and the birds to play a kind of game, in which each had to learn its own part. Puss was instructed to curl herself into a circle, with her head between her paws, as though asleep. The cage was then opened and the birds rushed out upon her and endeavored to awaken her with repeated strokes of their beaks; then dividing into two parties they attacked her head and her whiskers, without the gentle animal appearing to take the least notice of their gambols. At other times she would seat herself in the middle of the cage, and begin to smooth her fur; the birds would then settle upon her back, or sit like a crown upon her head, chirruping and singing as if in all the security of a shady wood.