An Introduction to Entomology: Vol. 2 / or Elements of the Natural History of the Insects

by William Kirby; William Spence

On some occasions bees, in consequence of Huber's arrangements in the interior of their habitations, have begun to build a comb nearer to the adjoining one than the usual interval; but they soon appeared to perceive their error, and corrected it by giving to the comb a gradual curvature, so as to resume the ordinary distance[779].

In another instance, in which various irregularities had taken place in the form of the combs, the bees, in prolonging one of them, had, contrary to their usual custom, begun two separate and distant continuations, which in approaching instead of joining would have interfered with each other, had not the bees, apparently foreseeing the difficulty, gradually bent their edges so as to make them join with such exactness that they could afterwards continue them conjointly[780].

In constructing their combs, bees, as you have been before told, in my letter on the habitations of insects, form the first range of cells—that by which the comb is attached to the top of the hive—of a different shape from the rest. Each cell instead of being hexagonal is pentagonal, having the fifth broadest side fixed to the top of the hive, whence the comb is much more securely cemented to that part, than if the first range of cells had been of the ordinary construction. For some time after their fabrication, the combs remain in this state; but at a certain period the bees attack the first range of cells as if in fury, gnaw away the sides without touching the lozenge-shaped bottoms; and having mixed the wax with propolis, they form a cement well known to the ancients under the names of Mitys, Commosis and Pissoceros, which they substitute in the place of the removed sides of the cells, forming of it thick and massive walls and heavy and shapeless pillars, which they introduce between the comb and the top of the hive so as to agglutinate them firmly together. Huber, who first in modern times witnessed this remarkable modification of the architecture of bees, observed, that not only are they careful not to touch the bottoms of the cells, but that they do not remove at once the cells on both sides of the comb, which in that case might fall down; but they work alternately, first on one side and then on the other, replacing the demolished cells as they proceed, with mitys, which firmly fixes the comb to its support.

The object of this substitution of mitys for wax seems clear. While the combs are new and only partially filled with honey, the first range of cells, originally established as the base and the guide for the pyramidal bottoms of the subsequent ones, serves as a sufficient support for them. But when they contain a store of several pounds, the bees seem to foresee the danger of such a weight proving too heavy for the thin waxen walls by which the combs are suspended, and providently hasten to substitute for them thicker walls, and pillars of a more compact and viscid material.

But their foresight does not stop here. When they have sufficient wax, they make their combs of such a breadth as to extend to the sides of the hive, to which they cement them by constructions approaching more or less to the shape of cells. But when a scarcity of wax happens before they have been able to give to their combs the requisite diameter, a large vacant space is left between the edges of these combs, which are only fixed by their upper part, and the sides of the hive; and they might be pulled down by the weight of the honey, did not the bees ensure their stability by introducing large irregular masses of wax between their edges and the sides of the hive.—A striking instance of this art of securing their magazines occurred to Huber. A comb, not having been originally well fastened to the top of his glass hive, fell down during the winter amongst the other combs, preserving, however, its parallelism with them. The bees could not fill up the space between its upper edge and the top of the hive, because they never construct combs of old wax, and they had not then an opportunity of procuring new: at a more favourable season they would not have hesitated to build a new comb upon the old one; but it being inexpedient at that period to expend their provision of honey in the elaboration of wax, they provided for the stability of the fallen comb by another process. They furnished themselves with wax from the other combs, by gnawing away the rims of the cells more elongated than the rest, and then betook themselves in crowds, some upon the edges of the fallen comb, others between its sides and those of the adjoining combs; and there securely fixed it, by constructing several ties of different shapes between it and the glass of the hive; some were pillars, others buttresses, and others beams artfully disposed and adapted to the localities of the surfaces joined. Nor did they content themselves with repairing the accidents which their masonry had experienced; they provided against those which might happen, and appeared to profit by the warning given by the fall of one of the combs to consolidate the others and prevent a second accident of the same nature. These last had not been displaced, and appeared solidly attached by their base; whence Huber was not a little surprised to see the bees strengthen their principal points of connexion by making them much thicker than before with old wax, and forming numerous ties and braces to unite them more closely to each other and to the walls of their habitation.—What was still more extraordinary, all this happened in the middle of January, at a period when the bees ordinarily cluster at the top of the hive, and do not engage in labours of this kind[781].

You will admit, I think, that these proofs of the resources of the architectural instinct of bees are truly admirable. If, in the case of the substitution of mitys for the first range of waxen cells, this procedure invariably took place in every bee-hive at a fixed period—when, for example, the combs are two-thirds filled with honey—it would be less surprising: but there is nothing of this invariable character about it. It does not, as Huber expressly informs us[782], occur at any marked and regular period, but appears to depend on several circumstances not always combined. Sometimes the bees content themselves with bordering the sides of the upper cells with propolis alone, without altering their form or giving them greater thickness. And it is not less remarkable that, from the instances last cited, it appears that they are not confined to one kind of cement for strengthening and supporting their combs, but avail themselves of propolis, wax, or a mixture of both, as circumstances direct.

Not to weary you with examples of the modifications of instinct we are considering, I shall introduce but three more:—the first, of the mode in which bees extend the dimensions of an old comb; the second, of that which they adopt in constructing the male cells and connecting them with the smaller cells of workers; and the last, of the plan pursued by them when it becomes necessary to bend their combs.

You must have observed that a comb newly made becomes gradually thinner at its edges, the cells there, on each side, progressively decreasing in length: but in time these marginal cells, as they are wanted for the purposes of the hive, are elongated to the depth of the rest. Now suppose bees, from an augmentation of the size of their hive, to have occasion to extend their combs either in length or breadth, the process which they adopt is this: They gnaw away the tops of the marginal cells until the combs have resumed their original lenticular form, and then construct upon their edges the pyramidal lozenge-shaped bottoms of cells, upon which the hexagonal sides are subsequently raised, as in their operation of cell-building. This course of proceeding is invariable: they never extend a comb in any direction whatever, without having first made its edges thinner, diminishing its thickness in a portion sufficiently large to leave no angular projection.—Huber observes, and with reason, in relating this surprising law which obliges bees partially to demolish the cells situated upon the edges of the combs, that it deserves a more close examination than he found himself competent to give it: for, if we may to a certain point form a conception of the instinct which leads these animals to employ their art of building cells, yet how can we conceive of that which in particular circumstances forces them to act in an opposite direction, and determines them to demolish what they have so laboriously constructed[783]?

Drones, or male bees, are more bulky than the workers; and you have been told, in speaking of the habitations of insects, that the cells which bees construct for rearing the larvæ of the former, are larger than those destined for the education of the larvæ of the latter. The diameter of the cells of drones is always 3-1/3 lines (or twelfths of an inch); that of those of workers 2-2/5 lines: and these dimensions are so constant in their ordinary cells, that some authors have thought they might be adopted as an universal and invariable scale of measure, which would have the great recommendation of being every where at hand, and at all events would be preferable to our barley-corns. Several ranges of male cells, sometimes from thirty to forty, are usually found in each comb, generally situated about the middle. Now as these cells are not isolated, but form a part of the entire comb, corresponding on its two faces—by what art is it that the bees unite hexagonal cells of a small, with others of a larger diameter, without leaving any void spaces, and without destroying the uniformity and regularity of the comb? This problem would puzzle an ordinary artist, but is easily solved by the resources of the instinct of our little workmen.

When they are desirous of constructing the cells of males below those of workers, they form several ranges of intermediate or transition cells, of which the diameter augments progressively, until they have reached that range where the male cells commence; and in the same manner, when they wish to revert to the modelling of the cells of workers, they pass by a gradually decreasing gradation to the ordinary diameter of the cells of this class.—We commonly meet with three or four ranges of intermediate cells before coming to those of males; the first ranges of which participate in some measure in the irregularity of the former.