THE “SHOWN TO THE
  CHILDREN” SERIES


1. BEASTS

  With 48 Coloured Plates by PERCY J. BILLINGHURST. Letterpress by LENA
  DALKEITH.

2. FLOWERS

  With 48 Coloured Plates showing 150 flowers, by JANET HARVEY KELMAN.
  Letterpress by C. E. SMITH.

3. BIRDS

  With 48 Coloured Plates by M. K. C. SCOTT. Letterpress by J. A.
  HENDERSON.

4. THE SEA-SHORE

  With 48 Coloured Plates by JANET HARVEY KELMAN. Letterpress by Rev.
  THEODORE WOOD.

5. THE FARM

  With 48 Coloured Plates by F. M. B. and A. H. BLAIKIE. Letterpress by
  FOSTER MEADOW.

6. TREES

  With 32 Coloured Plates by JANET HARVEY KELMAN. Letterpress by C. E.
  SMITH.

7. NESTS AND EGGS

  With 48 Coloured Plates by A. H. BLAIKIE. Letterpress by J. A.
  HENDERSON.

8. BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS

  With 48 Coloured Plates by JANET HARVEY KELMAN. Letterpress by Rev.
  THEODORE WOOD.

9. STARS

  By ELLISON HAWKS.

10. GARDENS

  With 32 Coloured Plates by J. H. KELMAN. Letterpress by J. A.
  HENDERSON.

11. BEES

  By ELLISON HAWKS. Illustrated in Colour and Black and White.




  THE “SHOWN TO THE CHILDREN” SERIES
  EDITED BY LOUEY CHISHOLM


  BEES


[Illustration: Pollen gathers on Buttercups]




  BEES
  SHOWN TO THE CHILDREN

  BY
  ELLISON HAWKS

  Member of the British Bee Keepers’ Association, etc., etc.
  Author of “Stars”

  [Illustration]

  ILLUSTRATED

  LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK
  NEW YORK: THE PLATT & PECK CO.




  TO
  MY TWO LITTLE FRIENDS
  ANNIE AND KATIE
  THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED




ABOUT THIS BOOK


Dear Annie and Katie,--When I was a little boy I often wished that my
soldiers would come to life. I used to think how grand it would be if
only I could have a city of little people on the dining-room table. Of
course my dreams never came true, even though one day I had a brilliant
idea, and wrapped a whole regiment of soldiers in flannel and put them
in the oven, hoping that in this way I should find them really alive
next morning!

But nowadays I have a wonderful city of tiny workers, that can be put
on a table. In it there are soldiers, food gatherers, bread-makers,
undertakers, and a host of others. It is ruled over by a queen, and
each day the gates of the city are crowded with the workers, who pass
in and out in hundreds.

Have you guessed that my wonderful city is really a bee-hive? Although
I cannot command my little friends to do this thing or that, to come
here or go there, yet I am quite content to leave them to their own
ways, and just to watch them in their daily life, and to study their
customs and laws.

In this little book I intend to tell you something about my bees. I
hope that you will be interested to read what I have written, and then
perhaps, later on, when you grow up, you may keep bees, and you will be
able to study their wonderful ways for yourselves.

I am sure you will join me in giving our best thanks to my friends who
have so kindly helped me in the preparation of some of the pictures: to
Mr. W. Barker, Mr. D. Ingham, Mr. H. Mackie, Mr. G. W. Stephenson; and
to Mr. J. Lambert for permission to use Plates Nos. XIV., XV., XXVII.,
XXIX. and XXX.

My thanks are due also to Mr. W. H. McCormick for his kindness in
reading over the proofs.

                                         Yours truly,

                                                          ELLISON HAWKS.

  10 GRANGE TERRACE,
  LEEDS, 1912.




CONTENTS


     CHAP.                                      PAGE

        I. ABOUT THE BEE                           1

       II. THE QUEEN BEE                           3

      III. THE DRONE                               5

       IV. THE WORKER BEE                          7

        V. THE MICROSCOPE                          8

       VI. THE HEAD                               10

      VII. THE WONDERFUL ANTENNÆ                  12

     VIII. THE EYES                               16

       IX. THE TONGUE AND MOUTH PARTS             20

        X. THE JAWS                               23

       XI. THE THORAX                             25

      XII. THE LEGS                               27

     XIII. THE FIRST PAIR OF LEGS                 29

      XIV. THE SECOND AND THIRD PAIR OF LEGS      31

       XV. THE WINGS                              33

      XVI. THE ABDOMEN                            36

     XVII. THE BREATHING APPARATUS                39

    XVIII. THE STING                              41

      XIX. THE ANCIENTS AND BEES                  44

       XX. THE HIVE                               49

      XXI. A VISIT TO A HIVE                      52

     XXII. THE CITY GATE                          54

    XXIII. THE GUARD BEES                         58

     XXIV. WORKERS IN THE CITY                    60

      XXV. THE COMB BUILDERS                      63

     XXVI. THE LIFE OF THE BEE                    68

    XXVII. THE STORY OF THE QUEEN                 72

   XXVIII. THE POLLEN GATHERERS                   74

     XXIX. THE VARNISH MAKERS                     77

      XXX. THE NECTAR GATHERERS                   79

     XXXI. THE WINTER SLEEP                       82

    XXXII. THE SWARM                              84

   XXXIII. TAKING THE SWARM                       87

    XXXIV. THE OLD HIVE AFTER A SWARM             89

     XXXV. THE MASSACRE OF THE DRONES             91

    XXXVI. HONEY                                  93

   XXXVII. MODERN BEE-KEEPING                     96

  XXXVIII. THE BEES’ ENEMIES                      99

    XXXIX. POWERS OF COMMUNICATION               101

       XL. BEE FLOWERS                           104

      XLI. POLLEN                                107

     XLII. BEES AND FLOWERS                      110

    XLIII. HOW FLOWERS PROTECT THEIR NECTAR      113

     XLIV. HOW FLOWERS ARE FERTILISED            115

      XLV. CONCLUSION                            118




[Illustration: PLATE I

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Drone      Queen      Worker

  The Three Kinds of Bees]




BEES




CHAPTER I

ABOUT THE BEE


No matter how small an insect may be, it is sure to teach us something
interesting if we study its habits, and try to find out how the various
parts of its body are used. Perhaps of all the thousands of different
insects upon the earth, the most wonderful of all are Bees. When we
speak of bees we generally think of those which live in the white hives
we sometimes see in gardens; these are the bees kept by a man to make
honey for him. You will perhaps be surprised, therefore, to learn that
there are over 2000 different kinds of bees known at the present time,
and that over 200 of these species are found in Great Britain. These
include the different kinds of hive bees and also the wild bees, for
there are races of bees just as there are races of mankind. In this
little book I hope to tell you about the hive bee, or, as it is called
by its Latin name, _Apis mellifica_ (“the honey bee”). In the first few
chapters we shall learn something about the body of the bee, and its
different limbs and organs. Later on we shall consider the construction
of the hive, and the habits of the bees which dwell therein.

The word insect comes from the Latin, and means “divided into parts.”
If you look at the body of a bee, or of any other insect, you will
find that it is divided into three parts. These three divisions are
respectively known as the Head, the Thorax, and the Abdomen. The head
carries the _antennæ_ or feelers, as they may be called; the thorax,
or chest, has the wings and legs joined to it; whilst the abdomen, or
hindermost part of the body, contains the stomach and internal organs.

There are three kinds of bees in a hive--the Queen, the Drone, and the
Worker, and a picture of these is seen in Plate I. Only one queen bee
is found in each hive, though there may be several hundred drones and
perhaps 50,000 or 60,000 workers. The number of the workers and drones
varies according to the size of the hive and the time of the year.

The races of bees are many, but the best known is the British bee,
sometimes called the Black Bee. Why it should be called “black” no one
seems to know, for, as a matter of fact, it is of a beautiful rich
brown colour. Then there is the Ligurian bee, which is of a lighter
shade, and has three golden bands around its abdomen, by which you
will easily recognise it. The Carniolian bees are natives of Carniolia
in Austria, and they also have rings, but of a lighter yellow colour,
while the bee itself is not such a dark brown as the Ligurian.
Carniolian bees are supposed to be very sweet-tempered, and are
therefore sometimes called “the lady’s bees.” Whether they really are
better-tempered than other races is a question, for the temper of the
little insects depends a great deal upon circumstances. For instance,
if spiders have been trying to get into the hive, the bees are often
very cross, and it is dangerous to go anywhere near them. But should
there be no trouble of this kind to worry them, the hive may be opened
and the bees handled without fear.

[Illustration: PLATE II

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Queen]




CHAPTER II

THE QUEEN BEE


Let us now look at Plate II., where an illustration of a queen bee is
to be seen. It will be noticed that her abdomen is much longer than
that of the worker or of the drone. Her head and thorax are about the
same size as those of the others, but her legs are slightly longer and
differently shaped.

This then is the queen of the hive, and she has, as we have seen, many
thousands of subjects. We might imagine that, such being the case, she
would lead a life of pleasure and enjoyment; but this is not so. In
fact she is wrongly named the queen, for she does not rule over the
other bees in the way we are accustomed to think of a king or queen
doing. She would be better called the mother of the hive, for she is
the parent of all the other bees. She never leaves the bee-city, except
perhaps on one or two state occasions, so that she spends the greater
part of her life in the darkness of the hive. She is waited upon and
fed by her royal attendants, who also clean her and guide her over the
combs. Perhaps, some time or other, if you have the opportunity of
doing so, you may see the queen of some friend’s hive. You will see
her on the comb, no doubt, and you will notice a circle of six or more
bees around her. These are her attendants, who face her and do not
turn their backs to her if it can be avoided. In Plate III. is shown
the queen surrounded by her attendants. They are within the circle
which has been drawn on the photograph, and the arrow points to the
queen. Great care is taken of the queen, for on her depends the future
of the race, and so she is closely guarded as well as being tended and
fed. Every one of the little workers would willingly lay down her life
for the sake of the queen, were this necessary.

[Illustration: PLATE III

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  The Queen Bee surrounded by her Attendants]




CHAPTER III

THE DRONE


Now a few words about the drone, or male bee, and a picture of him is
shown in Plate IV. He is not so big as the queen, though he possesses a
more burly appearance. Unlike the queen or the worker bees, the drone
has no sting, and so you may let him crawl over your hand without fear
of being hurt, even though he should become angry.

The life of the drone is a life of luxury and ease, for he does not
work in the hive, neither does he gather any nectar or pollen. He is
fed by the workers, and he also takes good care to help himself from
the storehouses, whenever he thinks he would like a little more food.
He generally finds some snug corner in the hive, away from the bustle
of the city, and there sleeps till perhaps mid-day. Then at this hour,
after a good meal, he sallies forth, pushes his way through the crowd
of workers, and with a loud, droning noise flies away to some far-off
flower, perchance, and there basks in the sun. Before the afternoon
wanes, he returns to the bee-city, has another meal, and then sleeps
until next day. A very lazy life is this, you will say, and I agree
with you. But this life, like all good things, comes to an end, and
little though the drones know it, before the winter comes they will be
killed by executioners duly appointed by the other bees, and so their
life of luxury will be cut short.

In appearance the drones are very beautiful, and if we watch the door
of a hive, some summer day, we may see them come out to take their
daily outing. Their eyes are like enormous black pearls on each side of
their head, while the silky antennæ look like beautiful plumes. Their
thoraxes are covered with many golden hairs, which make them look as
though they were clothed in the finest yellow velvet.

As they leave the hive, they create quite a stir amongst the other
bees. They care not for the sentries, and rushing out, overturn the
foragers who are coming in from the fields. No notice is taken of their
rudeness, but the workers go on with their various duties, no doubt
thinking that ere long the day of execution will come, and that then
they will be avenged.

[Illustration: PLATE V

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Worker]




CHAPTER IV

THE WORKER BEE


On Plate V. is shown an illustration of the worker bee, which is the
smallest inhabitant of the hive, but, nevertheless, does the greatest
amount of work. We have already seen that there are many thousands of
workers in a hive, and that each one has certain duties assigned to
her. All are busy, and they work as though the future of the whole hive
depended on their labours--as indeed it does. Each worker seems to
be trying to outdo the others, in the endeavour to see how much work
she can crowd into her little life. Laziness is unknown, and should a
bee become so badly injured from any cause as not to be able to work,
she is put to death, for the government of the bee-city has plenty of
mouths to fill, without any useless ones. To us this may seem cruel,
but we must admit that it is economical.

The duties of the workers are numerous. There are the water carriers,
to supply the hive with water; the nurse bees, to look after the young
ones; the foragers, who gather nectar and pollen. Then there are the
builders, architects, undertakers, scavengers, chemists, and soldiers.
Lastly there are the house bees and the ventilating bees.

Each bee is allocated to one or another of these trades, and each one
seems to know exactly how to do the work, and always seems to be doing
it! There is no quarrelling as to who shall gather pollen, or who shall
guard the city, for all is arranged by some mysterious law.




CHAPTER V

THE MICROSCOPE


By the aid of a wonderful instrument called the Microscope we are able
to learn a good deal about the construction of the different parts of
the bee’s body.

A microscope, as perhaps you already know, is a sort of strong
magnifying glass, being something like a telescope, but on a smaller
scale altogether. You may see an illustration of a microscope in (_a_)
Plate VI. The tube of the microscope is generally about six or eight
inches in length, made of metal and holding two sets of lenses. The
one through which we look is at the top of the tube, and is called the
eyepiece. The lens at the bottom is called the objective, for it is the
lens that is nearest to the object that is to be examined. If you have
a microscope of your own, or know any one who has one, you will be able
to see for yourselves many of the things about which I am going to tell
you. For the sake of convenience the parts of insects to be examined
in the microscope are generally mounted on little slips of glass, and
if you place a dead bee on a piece of glass, you will find that it is
more easily handled in this manner. Some of you, however, may not have
this opportunity, and so I have photographed several different parts
of the bee, by the aid of the microscope, so that you will be able to
understand what you will read about them.

[Illustration: PLATE VI

(_a_)

  From a photograph by]     [E. Hawks

  A Microscope

(_b_)

  From a photo-micrograph by]     [E. Hawks

  Head of Bee]

Just as the telescope has taught its users a great deal about the
stars, which otherwise could not have been known, so too has the
microscope shown us wonders such as we never before thought existed.

Before we consider the habits of the bees, it will be well for us
to examine, and to understand, the various limbs and parts of their
bodies, in order that we may the more easily trace out the manner in
which the little workers accomplish their tasks.




CHAPTER VI

THE HEAD


Just as the head of an animal is the most important part of its body,
so too is it in the case of an insect.

A bee’s head, as seen with the aid of a microscope, looks very
peculiar, but nevertheless it is exceedingly interesting. A photograph
of it is shown (_b_) on Plate VI. The head is something like a split
pea in shape, with the rounded part turned to the front; it is joined
to the thorax by a thin neck.

The bee has five eyes, two compound and three simple. The compound
eyes are placed one on each side of the head, like the eyes of the
house-fly, and the simple eyes are to be found on the top of the head.
In Plate VII. the position of the eyes is shown, but only one of the
simple eyes is to be seen. In addition to the eyes, the head carries
the antennæ, which are two in number, and the whole of the head is
covered with a multitude of tiny hairs of a light golden colour.

The bee has, of course, a brain in the proper sense of the word; it
is, however, very minute, though all the more wonderful for being so.
The nervous system consists of a number of “nerve centres,” which
are situated in the body. The chief nerve centre, or _ganglion_ as
it is called, is in the head, and from this point multitudes of
nerves run to all parts of the body. The word ganglion comes from
the Greek, and means a knot, and it is really a knot of nerves. The
nerves resemble underground telegraph wires, which perhaps you have
seen; and like them, they run in bundles, which in turn are enclosed
in a pipe or sheath. Each telegraph wire sends a message to some part
of the country, and the nerves of the bee, in like manner, transmit
messages to different parts of its body. Other ganglia are situated
in the thorax and in the abdomen, but the largest one is, as I have
said, in the head. You will easily understand from this, that the
ganglia are almost like little brains, distributed in the body of the
bee. Now here is a most remarkable fact, but perfectly simple when you
understand what I have just told you. Sometimes a bee may have a fight
with another bee, and perhaps she will be unfortunate enough to have
her head cut off. You might imagine that this would be at once fatal to
the bee, but it is not so. She is still able to walk about the hive in
quite an important fashion! Of course she cannot see, nor can she feel
her way about with her antennæ, and she is therefore of no use. Soon
she will die, but the fact remains that a bee can live for a time even
when its head is cut off. In the same way, if a bee is feeding on honey
and her abdomen is cut off at the waist, she will still go on sucking
up the honey, in blissful ignorance of the fact that her body has been
cut in half! Then if the abdomen is picked up and placed in the palm of
the hand, it will probably start twisting round, in the attempt to bury
its sting in the flesh!




CHAPTER VII

THE WONDERFUL ANTENNÆ


Wonderful as all the parts of the bee are, there are none so wonderful
as the _antennæ_. This word comes from the Latin, and means horns or
feelers, and the antennæ serve many purposes. In the hive, although all
is dark, the bees are able to find their way about by means of them;
they build the combs by their aid, and with them they communicate one
with another. The antennæ are used, too, for the purpose of smelling,
and curious to relate, the ears of the bee are situated in them. We
generally expect to find the ears of living creatures in their heads,
but in the insect world ears are found in many queer places. For
instance, who would look for the ears of the cricket in one of its
legs? yet this is where they are situated. This is not the only insect
which has its ears in its legs, for those of the grasshopper are found
in a similar position. Then there is a kind of shrimp, called the
_Mysis_, and this creature actually has its hearing apparatus in its
tail! And so, when we remember these peculiarities, the fact that the
bee’s ears are situated in its antennæ is not so strange as it at first
seemed. In (_b_) Plate VI. you will see the position the antennæ occupy
on the worker bee’s head, whilst (_a_) Plate VII. will show you the
feeler in detail. The antennæ of the worker bee each consist of a
single long joint, and eleven small joints. The long joint is called
the “scape,” meaning a shaft or stem, whilst the small ones are called
the _flagellum_, a Latin word meaning “a little whip.” In (_a_) Plate
VII. they have been numbered 1 to 11, as you will see. The antennæ of
the drone, while resembling those of the worker, have one more small
joint in the flagellum, thus making the total number twelve.

[Illustration: PLATE VII

(_a_)

  Photo-micro. by]      [E. Hawks

  Antenna of Bee

(_b_)

  Photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Tongue of Bee]

The construction and movements of the antennæ closely resemble those
of our own arms, the flagellum corresponding to the forearm, whilst
the scape is like the upper part of the arm, between the elbow and the
shoulder. Further than this, the antennæ are fixed to the head in much
the same way as our arms are joined to our shoulders. This joint is
called a cup-and-ball joint, and it enables the antennæ to be moved in
practically every direction. In addition, each of the eleven joints
of the flagellum is able to be moved separately; so you will see that
a bee can very easily and quickly place its antennæ in almost any
position.

On again looking at the plate, you will observe that the scape is
covered by numerous hairs, which are both long and fine. The first
three joints of the flagellum are also covered with hairs, which,
however, are not like those of the scape, for they are much shorter
and thicker. They look more like bristles, and all point in a downward
direction. The remaining eight joints are covered with multitudes of
still smaller hairs, and these again differ in their construction. To
give you some idea of the complicated nature of the antennæ, I may
tell you that the drone possesses over 2000 of these hairs on each
one, whilst the worker has about 14,000. Each hair is connected with a
nerve which is so delicate that the faintest touch of anything would
be easily felt. The nerves are contained in the central part of the
antennæ, which is hollow, and from there they lead to the ganglia. The
bee can tell instantly the shape, height, and nature of any object by
simply passing the antennæ over it. You know that if a person comes
noiselessly behind you, say whilst you are reading, and lightly touches
one of your hairs, you can feel the touch instantly. That is because
each hair, like those of the bee, is connected with a nerve. You will
easily understand, however, that the hairs and nerves of the bee are
infinitely more sensitive than ours. It is necessary that the tiny
workers should be provided with some means of doing things in the dark,
for all the work of the hive has to be done under these conditions. The
antennæ serve this purpose perfectly.

In a very powerful microscope it is found that the places between the
hairs, in most of the antennæ joints at any rate, are covered with tiny
oval-shaped holes and depressions. The nature and use of these holes
are most difficult for us to understand, and it is not yet properly
known for what they are really intended. In the first place, they are
so very tiny that we can hardly imagine their size. They measure only
about 1/10,000th part of an inch across, and each is surrounded by a
minute ring of a bright orange colour. It is supposed, and I think it
is quite probable, that by the aid of these holes the bee hears. There
is not the slightest doubt that bees can hear, though at one time
people had quite decided that they were perfectly deaf!

In addition to these little hearing holes, there are others called the
“smell hollows”; they too are exceedingly numerous and minute. Each of
the last eight joints of the worker bee’s antennæ is stated to have
fifteen rows, and twenty smell hollows in each row! That is to say,
there are over 2400 in each antenna. The queen has not quite so many,
having, as a matter of fact, about 1600 on each; but the drone is
possessed of the most of all, and his number reaches the astonishing
figure of 37,000 hollows on each antenna. Every one of those hollows
is a little nose, so that the bee’s power of smell must be very keen.
What with the different kinds of hairs, so numerous and yet each with
a separate nerve, the hearing holes, and lastly the smell hollows, you
will, I feel sure, agree that the antennæ are most complicated, and you
will understand why I call this chapter “The Wonderful Antennæ.”




CHAPTER VIII

THE EYES


The same tiny head, which carries the marvelous antennæ, is provided
with two large “compound” eyes, as they are called. If you are able to
examine these eyes with a magnifying glass, you will at once see that
they are lovely objects. The eye itself is of a deep purplish-black
colour, and has an appearance which is rather difficult to describe.
It seems almost as though it is covered with the finest satin, for it
glistens in the sunlight.

The microscope shows that this appearance is due to the eye being
composed of multitudes of six-sided cells, resembling, in fact, nothing
so much as a piece of honeycomb. These cells are called _facets_,
which means “little faces,” and each one measures about 1/1000th part
of an inch in diameter. Over the surface of the eye are distributed
numerous long, straight hairs; the chief purpose of these hairs is to
protect the delicate facets, just as the eyelashes of our own eyes
protect them. Bees have no eyelids, as we have, and so they have to
rely upon these hairs to protect their eyes from dust and other such
foreign bodies. The construction of the eye itself is wonderful to a
degree, but it is also very difficult to understand, because it is so
complicated and minute.

Each eye consists of a great number of facets, which are really smaller
eyes, and this is the reason the eye is called compound. The eye of the
worker contains over 6000 of them, and each one points in a slightly
different direction. Large as this number may appear, it is less than
half that possessed by the drone, whose facets actually number 13,000
in each eye. As a matter of interest, I may tell you that the queen
bee has the least number of all, having but 5000. Each facet acts as a
tiny lens. A lens, as you perhaps know, is something so shaped as to
throw an image of the object to which it is directed. A camera has a
lens of glass, and by the aid of this lens a picture can be taken of
any object to which the camera is pointed. In that case the image of
the object is thrown upon what is called a photographic plate. Our own
eyes act as lenses, and throw an image of whatever we look at, not upon
a photographic plate, but upon a sensitive surface called the _retina_.
This word comes from the Latin, and means a “small net,” and it is a
very good name, for the retina catches the picture from the pupil of
the eye, and passes it on to the brain.

Although we might imagine that these compound eyes were sufficient for
any purpose, yet we find that the bee has three more eyes; these are
called the “simple” eyes. They are situated on the top of the head, and
you may see one of them in (_b_) Plate VI. The other two are over the
top of the head, for the three eyes are arranged in this manner ∵ so
as to form a triangle. You will remember that the drone is furnished
with a far greater number of facets than the worker. Consequently the
compound eyes of the drone are much larger, and they not only take
up the whole of the space at the sides of the head, but also extend
right over the top, covering the position occupied by the simple eyes
in the worker. Owing to this fact, the drone’s simple eyes are placed
lower down, on the front of his head, their position corresponding
pretty closely to the place our own eyes occupy. The simple eyes are so
called because they do not seem to be nearly so complicated in their
construction as the compound eyes, but the microscope shows that they
also have an elaborate structure. If we were to cut open the front of a
bee’s head, we should find that the simple eyes are set like this:--

[Illustration]

You will notice that the two top ones (marked L. E. left eye and R. E.
right eye) point in an outward direction, and it is by their aid that
the bee can see sideways. The lower eye (F. E. front eye) is directed
forwards, and with it things in front can be seen. The simple eyes are
surrounded with tufts of hair (marked e. b. eyebrows), which are so
placed that they do not interfere with the range of vision.

I must just tell you something of the uses of the five eyes. At one
time it was supposed that _each_ facet of the compound eyes made a
separate image of the object to which it was directed. But this is very
improbable, for what possible use could there be in the insect seeing,
instead of the one flower at which it was looking, several thousands
of flowers each exactly like the other? It is much more likely that
every facet forms a picture of only that part of the object which is
exactly in front of it, all the pictures combining to form a single
image. No doubt the compound eyes are used for seeing things at a
distance, and the simple eyes for objects near at hand.

It has been proved that bees can distinguish between colours, and even
that they prefer certain colours to others; one of their favourite
colours is pale blue. An experiment, which is both interesting and
instructive, has often been performed, and it shows us that not only
is the bee able to tell one colour from another, but also that it
possesses a memory. Pieces of blue, yellow, and red paper are obtained,
and upon each is placed a slip of glass. A little honey is placed upon
the slip of glass which is over the blue paper, and all three are put
near a hive. A bee is caught and placed on the honey. After sucking
some of it she flies to the hive to store her treasure and quickly
returns for more. She is allowed to make several journeys between the
honey and the hive, so as to impress upon her memory that the honey is
to be found on the blue paper. Then while she is away at the hive, the
slip of glass is placed upon the yellow paper. She returns, as before,
to the blue paper, and seems puzzled at not finding the honey there,
but after a careful search, she discovers the honey on the yellow
paper. The fact that the bee came back to the blue paper proves that
she has a memory and that she is able to distinguish one colour from
another.




CHAPTER IX

THE TONGUE AND MOUTH PARTS


The tongue of an insect is called the _proboscis_, a Greek word meaning
a front feeder, or trunk, and indeed the bee’s tongue is not unlike the
trunk of an elephant. Let us glance at Plate VIII., where a picture
of the mouth parts of the bee is shown. The tongue itself is in the
centre, and it appears long and hairy, tapering to a fine point. On
each side of the tongue are the _Labial palpi_, which are part of the
case in which the tongue is kept, when not in use. Beyond these are the
_Maxillæ_, or inner jaws, which form the other part of the case.

Each labial palpus consists of four joints, the upper two (Nos. 1 and
2 on the picture) being much larger and broader than the lower ones,
which are quite tiny in comparison. They have several hairs growing
upon them, and these hairs are used for feeling. The importance of
hairs to the bee is very great, and we find them all over the body.
They are of different shapes and sizes, and we shall read more about
them as we come to consider each kind in turn. When the labial palpi
are closed, they protect the back part of the tongue, the front part
being protected by the maxillæ. These four parts, when closed, make
a kind of tube, in which the tongue rests. Although this protecting
case cannot be drawn up into the mouth, the bee is able to draw up the
tongue at will.

[Illustration: PLATE VIII

  From a photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Tongue and Mouth Parts of Bee]

(_b_) Plate VII. shows a good view of the tongue itself, as seen with
a high magnifying power. It is composed of a number of ring-like
structures, and is covered with hairs which are regularly placed and
point in a downward direction. The tongue of the worker bee, it is
interesting to note, is nearly twice as long as that of the queen or
of the drone. This is because neither of the latter gather nectar, and
so they do not need such long tongues as the worker. Her tongue being
longer, she is the more easily able to reach the nectar, which, in
some flowers, is only to be found at the bottom of a long corolla. The
tongue of the worker has from 90 to 100 rows of hairs, but those of the
queen and the drone have only from 60 to 65 rows each.

The tongue is extremely elastic, and is capable of being moved in any
direction at will. Some of the hairs with which the tongue is clothed
are of use for feeling, but most of them are for a different purpose
altogether. When a bee pushes her head into the corolla of a flower,
her tongue sweeps from side to side. If there is any nectar there, it
sticks to the hairs of the tongue in tiny droplets, and in this way it
is collected. Later on we shall find how it is dealt with after it has
been gathered.

On (_b_) Plate VII., at the very tip of the tongue, there is to be seen
a small object like a spoon. This is indeed its name, and it is used
for collecting the most minute quantities of nectar. It is covered
with a number of tiny hairs, some of which are split into several
branches.

From this description you will see that a bee’s tongue is very fully
equipped for gathering small, as well as large, quantities of nectar.
Even the tiniest drop is carefully treasured, for the bees know that
“every little helps.”




CHAPTER X

THE JAWS


We have seen that the bee possesses maxillæ, or inner jaws, and we are
now to consider the outer jaws. On (_a_) Plate IX. is a photograph
showing these jaws, which have been separated from the mouth in order
to show them better. They are very hard, and have extremely sharp
edges, like a joiner’s chisel. If you have ever watched a caterpillar
feeding, you will know that its jaws work sideways. It places itself
upon the edge of a leaf, and moves its jaws from left to right, one on
each side of the leaf. This action therefore resembles the opening and
shutting of a pair of scissors, placed flat upon the table, and the
jaws of all insects work in a similar manner.

The jaws of the bee are very powerful, and this is necessary, for it is
by their aid that the wax, which forms the comb, is cut up or thinned
out. Sometimes the bee may come to a flower which is too long for its
tongue to reach the bottom. It does not waste time trying, but simply
bites through the flower, inserts its tongue through the hole, and in
this way obtains the nectar.

A short time ago I imprisoned a wild bee in a cardboard box. Soon
afterwards I heard a great noise coming from the inside of the box, and
found that the little captive was hard at work, endeavouring to bite a
way through the cardboard. The noise made by its tiny jaws, as it tore
away shred after shred of cardboard, was like a mouse gnawing a plank.
I fed the bee with honey, and the next day found the floor of the box
covered with pieces of cardboard, whilst quite an appreciable amount
had been bitten away. In four days the bee had cut a way through the
side, making a hole large enough for herself to pass through. Seeing
that she had worked so hard, for the box was really a very substantial
one, I rewarded the little worker by setting her free.

[Illustration: PLATE IX

(_a_)

  Photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  The Jaws

(_b_)

  Photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Claws, showing Hooks and Feeling Hairs]




CHAPTER XI

THE THORAX


Having now fully considered the head of the bee, we will turn our
attention to the _thorax_; this name comes from a Latin word meaning
the chest. It is the second, or middle division, of the bee’s body, and
to it the head is joined by a thin neck. The _thorax_ is the centre of
movement, for it is to this part that the wing and legs are joined.
Accordingly we find that it contains several large muscles, for the bee
is a very powerful flier.

If we examine a bee we notice that the head seems almost black, the
abdomen smooth and shiny, and that the thorax has a beautiful downy
appearance. This is due to its being thickly covered with fine hairs
which, when examined with the microscope, are seen to have many tiny
spikes branching from them which are used for collecting the pollen
grains. When a bee enters a flower the hairs are sure to come into
contact with the pollen, and by means of the spikes the grains are
entangled and held secure. The hairs of the queen and the drone are not
so numerous as those of the worker, because these bees do not gather
pollen.

If we wish to see exactly the construction of the thorax we shall
have to remove these downy hairs, for they are so thick that it is
impossible to see beneath them. How are we to remove them, without
injuring the parts which lie below? An ingenious way of doing this is
to fasten a piece of cotton around the body of the dead bee, and to
hang it downwards in the hive, between the combs. In the course of a
few days we shall find that every hair has vanished and that the body
is beautifully polished. This has been done by the thousands of worker
bees, walking over the combs of the hive. They are so busy that they
have no time to stop and inquire how their sister died; and so they
brush past, intent only on the fulfilment of some particular duty. In
their haste they knock against the body of the bee, which is buffeted
this way and that, as the busy streams of bees cross and recross the
combs. After a few days of this treatment all the hairs will have
been removed from it, and we shall then be able to see the actual
construction of the thorax, and also the manner in which wings and legs
are attached.

The thorax, we find, is divided into three distinct parts. The division
nearest the head is called the pro-thorax or forward division; the
second is the meso-thorax or middle division; and the third the
meta-thorax or after division.




CHAPTER XII

THE LEGS


The legs of the bee are not only used for walking but they have also to
take the place of hands and arms. They are divided into three pairs,
one attached to each division of the thorax. Each leg has nine joints,
which have separate names. The last joint, which is really the foot,
has two claws and a kind of soft pad. The claws, a picture of which is
shown in (_b_) Plate IX., are useful for walking over rough surfaces,
and also serve as little hooks. When the bees are wax-making they hook
their feet together, just as we take hold of hands, and they are thus
able to hang in long festoons from the roof of the hive.

The pad is called the “pulvillus,” and is close to the claws. We all
know how easily a fly can walk upside down on the ceiling, or run up
a window pane. It is able to do this by means of pads which it also
possesses. These pads are covered with a kind of gummy liquid, and
by their aid a fly or a bee can walk up, or perhaps it would be more
correct to say stick to, a window pane or other smooth surface. The
fly, however, can beat the bee when walking on such surfaces, because
it has two pads on each foot, whereas the bee has only one. On the
other hand, the claws of the fly have no hooks, therefore flies cannot
cling to each other as bees do.

It is very interesting to understand how the pads are brought into use
by the bee. You must remember that they are placed just above the claw
itself; when the bee is walking over an uneven surface the claw catches
on the roughnesses, and then the pad remains in its ordinary position.
When the bee comes to a slippery surface, however, the claw is not able
to obtain a grip, and so it slips down under the foot, its place being
taken by the pad. This presses against the smooth surface and adheres
to it by means of the sticky moisture with which it is covered. Here is
a sketch showing the pad just coming into action.

[Illustration]

The pads hold very tightly on to a smooth surface when they are pulled
_downwards_, as it were, by the weight of the bee. But they are very
easily loosened if the sides are lifted up, and in this manner they may
be peeled off the smooth surface, just as we take a stamp off a letter.
So beautiful is this arrangement, and so perfect in its action, that it
is stated a bee can put down and lift up each foot at least 1200 times
a minute!




CHAPTER XIII

THE FIRST PAIR OF LEGS


The first pair of legs, or those nearest the head, are the shortest
of all. The most interesting feature about these legs is a little
semi-circular notch, and I have made this sketch of it.

[Illustration]

Under the microscope we see that around the semi-circular opening is
a row of about eighty teeth. These are not biting teeth, but are more
like the teeth of a comb, and indeed this notch is a comb which is
used for cleaning the antennæ. You may sometimes see a bee bring up
its front leg to its head, and then move the leg outwards. By this
movement the antenna is drawn into, and through the comb, the teeth of
which soon remove any dirt or pollen which may be sticking to it. Just
above the antenna comb, there is a kind of little hinge or lid. This is
called the “velum,” and its name comes from a Latin word meaning “to
cover,” for the lid covers the antenna when it is drawn into the comb,
and holds it there whilst it is being pulled through. When we know that
each antenna is only 1/125th of an inch in diameter, we can understand
what a wonderful little tool the comb is.

When we mention a comb, we generally think of a brush too, so it is
interesting to find that the front leg of a bee has two brushes, which
are shown in the sketch. The first of these is used for cleaning the
comb after the antenna has been passed through it. The other keeps the
hairs of the eye free from pollen.

[Illustration: PLATE X

(_a_)

  From a photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Hind Leg of Bee (showing Wax Pincers)

(_b_)

  From a photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Wax Pincers on Hind Leg]




CHAPTER XIV

THE SECOND AND THIRD PAIR OF LEGS


The second pair of legs is slightly longer than the front ones. Each is
furnished with a kind of stiff spike with which the wings are cleaned.

The third pair of legs are perhaps the most interesting of all. They
are the longest, and the hairs for pollen gathering are far more
numerous upon them than on the other legs. If we look at (_a_) Plate X.
we see that there is an opening in the leg around which is set a row
of spikes. This is shown more plainly in (_b_) Plate X. As the joints
work on a kind of hinge, these spikes act like pincers; they are known
as the wax-pincers and will be mentioned later. Another interesting
feature is the _corbicula_, or pollen basket, which is the receptacle
in which the pollen is carried from the flowers to the hive. You will
see from the picture of the worker bee, in Plate V., that the large
joints of the hind legs are much broader than the others. They are
also hollowed out, and around each edge are numbers of spike-like
hairs, which curl inwards over the hollow. These make a sort of basket,
and I am sorry that I am not able to show you a photograph of this
interesting feature, but it is a most difficult subject of which to
obtain a picture. However, I have made this little drawing, which
perhaps will help to give you some idea of its nature.

[Illustration: POLLEN BASKET]

I should tell you that the pollen basket is situated on the outside
of the leg, that is, the side which is away from the bee’s body. On
the inside are several combs, which are made up of rows of spike-like
hairs. When the thorax has become covered with pollen the bee uses
these hairs to comb it out; this it does by crossing its legs below the
body. It is interesting to notice that neither the queen nor the drone
has pollen baskets.

[Illustration: PLATE XI

(_a_)

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Wing

(_b_)

  From a photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Fine Needle compared with Sting]




CHAPTER XV

THE WINGS


Bees belong to a class of insects known as _Hymenoptera_, which means
with membranous wings; the wings of the bee are found to be composed
of beautifully fine membranes. They are four in number, and, like the
legs, are joined to the thorax. The front ones are called the anterior
wings, and the back ones, which you will notice are smaller, are called
the posterior wings, because they are behind the others. The membranes
are strengthened by a kind of framework, just as a kite is strengthened
by a framework of light sticks. The ribs of the framework are called
“nervures,” and, as you will see from (_a_) Plate XI., there are
divisions of transparent membrane in between; these are called cells.
The nervures are hollow, and like our veins, they contain blood.

We have seen that the bee possesses two pairs of wings, and we may
wonder why this should be so, when we know that one large pair is much
more powerful for flying purposes than two small pairs. You have no
doubt noticed that when a bee is at rest on a flower the wings are
neatly folded over the back. Now if the bee had only one pair of large
wings it would not be able to fold them so compactly--the wings would,
in fact, stand out on each side of the body. We shall presently see
that the bees, in the course of their duties, have to clean out the
cells of the comb, and in order that they may do this it is necessary
for them to be able to crawl right into the cell itself. The cells in
which the young worker bees are raised are only 1/5th inch in diameter,
and if the wings projected when in the folded position, the bee would
not be able to enter the cell. The wings therefore have been divided,
so that when folded they may lie one over the other on the bee’s back,
and we find that the wings, when folded, take up only 1/6th inch of
room. This leaves just sufficient space for their owner to enter a
cell. You will notice that a blue-bottle fly has only one pair of large
wings, for it does not need to fold them closely over its back, as it
has no cells to clean.

Remembering what I have told you about the greater flying power of one
pair of large wings, you might imagine that the division into two pairs
which we have seen to be necessary would handicap the bee in flying.
The difficulty is overcome by a most ingenious device, by which the
bee, when flying, is able to fasten together the wings on each side, so
as to form one pair of broad wings.

Let us now turn to (_a_) Plate XII., which shows part of the wings on
one side of a bee’s body. Along the top edge of the lower wing there
is a row of tiny hooks, and the lower edge of the upper wing is curled
over, thus forming a kind of ridge. When the bee takes to flight the
front wing is stretched out from over the back, and during this action
it passes over the upper surface of the back wing. When the ridge
reaches the hooks it catches upon them and is held fast. In this manner
the two wings are locked together. (_b_) Plate XII. shows the wings
hooked together ready for flying. When the bee comes to rest she folds
her wings, and in doing this they are automatically separated, for the
ridge slips away from the hooks that hold it.

[Illustration: PLATE XII

(_a_)

  From a photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Wing unhooked, showing Hooklets and Ridge

(_b_)

  From a photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Wing hooked, as in Flying]

The number of hooks varies, and there are sometimes more on one side of
the body than on the other. As a general rule it is found that a worker
bee has from eighteen to twenty-three of them, the one shown in (_a_)
Plate XII. having nineteen, as you will be able to count. The queen
does very little flying, and so her wings are not large, in proportion
to her size. Therefore she has not usually so many hooks, and sometimes
they are found to number as few as thirteen. The drone has large and
powerful wings, and his hooks vary between twenty-one and twenty-six in
number.

Bees are able to move their wings very quickly, and you will agree with
me in this when I tell you that it has been shown that the vibrations
number at least 190 per second! The flight of the bee is greatly
assisted by a number of air-sacs called _tracheæ_, contained in the
thorax. These fill with air and make the body more buoyant, just as a
lifeboat is made more buoyant by its air-chambers. When a bee has been
at rest for a little time it cannot begin to fly straight away, for the
air-sacs are empty. It therefore runs along the ground to get a start,
as an aeroplane does, and by vibrating its wings fills the tracheæ.




CHAPTER XVI

THE ABDOMEN


The hinder part of the bee’s body is called the abdomen, and it is
here that the stomach is situated. The abdomen is larger than either
the head or the thorax, and is joined to this latter by a thin waist.
Insects do not possess skeletons, at least not internal skeletons of
bones, such as we have. Their skeletons are outside the body, and
take the form of a hard outer layer which protects the soft inner
organs. This layer, or outer skin, is made of a horny substance, called
_chitine_ (pronounced “ki-tin”), which comes from a Greek word meaning
a tunic or outer dress.

Chitine is indeed a wonderful substance, and is found in all forms
and shapes, having a variety of appearances. The hard black bodies of
beetles are composed of it, and, wonderful to relate, of this substance
the downy wings of the butterfly are made. You will remember that
in the chapter on the eye of the bee we saw that the facets have a
beautiful appearance; they too are made of chitine, as are the tendons,
legs, hairs, membranes, and many other parts of the body.

The abdomen of the queen and of the worker is divided into six rings
or belts, but the drone, having a somewhat larger body, has seven.
Each ring is divided again into two parts which are known as the
_scelerites_, which are joined one to another by delicate membranes of
very fine skin. You may have noticed that the leg of a crab is jointed,
and that the hard outer case of shell gives place to a fine, but tough
membrane at the joints. By means of this arrangement the crab can move
its leg with ease. The joints of the abdomen of the bee are arranged
in a similar manner, although in this case the membranes are of course
much finer and more delicate than those of the crab.

The organs inside the outer case of chitine are of most wonderful and
delicate construction. You may be surprised and interested to learn
that a bee has two stomachs, and these are perhaps the most important
parts of the abdomen. It is not because the bee is a greedy insect that
it is provided with two stomachs, but each serves a separate and useful
purpose. One is called the honey-sac, and the other is the stomach
proper. As a bee sips the nectar from a flower, it is passed down a
tube through the thorax into the honey-sac, which acts as a kind of
store-chamber. Here it is kept until the bee flies back to the hive, or
until the little worker may need it for its own food. Leading from the
honey-sac to the stomach is a very fine tube, and at the honey-sac end
of it there is a kind of stopper, called the “stomach mouth.” Just as
we can open or close our mouths at will, so can the bee open or close
the stomach mouth, and so either allow honey to flow into its true
stomach or keep it stored in the honey-sac. The latter is very tiny,
and when quite full contains little more than a third of an ordinary
drop of honey. The tube which leads from the one to the other is lined
with fine hairs, all pointing in a downward direction, away from the
honey-sac. When the bee sips the nectar it often happens that some
of the pollen grains from the flower are taken in also. Now the bee
desires to gather only the pure nectar, and so it passes the nectar
from the honey-sac to the stomach by means of the tube. It then makes
the honey return from the stomach to the honey-sac, but this time the
hairs in the tube act as a strainer, and prevent the pollen grains from
returning with the nectar. By this clever little apparatus you will
see that the bee is able to strain the nectar when flying from one
flower to another, or when travelling back to the hive. Besides the two
stomachs, the abdomen contains certain glands to which we shall refer
when we come to speak of honey.




CHAPTER XVII

THE BREATHING APPARATUS


Insects do not breathe by means of lungs as we do but through tiny
air-holes, called “spiracles.” This name comes from the Latin
_spiraculum_, meaning an air-hole, which in turn is derived from
_spirare_, to breathe.

Crawling insects do not need nearly so much air as flying insects, and
so their breathing apparatus is not so large. In the bee the breathing
tubes spread over almost the whole body, two of the largest extending
along each side of the abdomen. The rings of the abdomen slightly
overlap one another, and if you watch a bee carefully you will notice
that they are constantly slipping in and out, like the joints of a
folding telescope which is being opened and closed. This is really the
action of breathing, and the bee draws in and then drives out air. If
you have ever rescued a fly which has fallen into the milk, you will
remember that it at once commences to clean itself vigorously with its
legs. It does not do this to make itself tidy, but to clean out the
milk which clogs its air-tubes and is thus choking it.

It is interesting to notice that the mouth of each air-tube has a
number of tiny hairs; these serve to keep out dust, which would
interfere with the breathing. The air-tubes branch off one from
another like the roots of a tree, and in order to give you some idea
of how very small they are, I may tell you that it has been found that
a bundle of a quarter of a million of them would hardly be any bigger
than an ordinary human hair!

[Illustration: PLATE XIII

(_a_)

  Photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Sting of Bee

(_b_)

  Photo-micro. by]      [E. H.

  Sting, showing Barbs]




CHAPTER XVIII

THE STING


We have now only the sting left to consider. I need not tell you what
it feels like to be stung, as no doubt a good many of you have had that
interesting operation performed upon you by some bee or wasp which you
have annoyed!

How very frightened every one is of the sting of a bee, and those
people who have never been stung are perhaps the most frightened of
all. After all, the sting is not so painful, and it is very interesting
to watch the angry little worker drive its sharp weapon into our hand;
besides which it is actually good for us to be stung, and the reason of
this I shall presently tell you. The sting is situated at the very tip
of the abdomen. It would take up too much space to fully describe all
the details of its construction, and therefore I shall simply tell you
about the chief parts, and also how it works.

Let us look at the picture of a sting given on (_a_) Plate XIII., where
is seen a sharp-pointed object surrounded by fleshy matter. This is
the sting proper, and it is very smooth and hard, as well as being
finely pointed. In order to give you some idea of this, I have mounted
alongside a sting, one of the finest needles obtainable for comparison,
and you will see the picture in (_b_) Plate XI. The needle is at the
top, and looks like a great crowbar compared with the beautifully fine
and tapering sting.

This sting is really a sheath, or kind of case, in which are enclosed
two needle-like darts. Its purpose is to protect the darts and also to
make the actual wound. Outside the end of the sheath are two rows of
three, or sometimes more barbs, which point backwards. Many of you, no
doubt, have seen in our museums the spears and arrows used by savages,
which have ugly barbs at their points. When the warrior runs the spear
into an enemy, it does not slip out as it would do were the shaft just
a plain one. The barbs on the outside of the sheath are used for this
purpose, that is, to prevent the sheath from slipping out of the hole
it has pierced, until the operation of stinging is completed.

The darts enclosed in the sheath are capable of being moved up and
down in it, by a powerful and complicated set of muscles. They act
like drills, and when the sheath has made the first hole and, as it
were, opened the way for them, the darts commence to travel up and down
at a great rate. Every time they come down they go further into the
flesh, and so make the hole deeper. They, too, have barbs which are
more pronounced than those on the outside of the sheath, and so take a
firmer hold on the flesh. You will clearly see these barbs on one of
the darts in (_b_) Plate XIII.

The darts themselves are hollow, and near each barb there is a tiny
hole, which leads into the central hollow, down which the poison is
poured. The hole made by the sharp little darts is not deep enough to
cause the pain we feel when stung; this is due to the poison which is
sent into the wound. This poison consists chiefly of formic acid, and
is stored in the poison-bag which is shown on (_a_) Plate XIII. The
poison is forced through the holes by two little pumps situated at the
base of the sheath, and which are worked by the same muscles which move
the darts.

You will see from this that stinging is quite an elaborate process.
First the sharp point of the sheath enters the flesh and is held there
by its barbs. Then the darts work up and down, making the wound deeper
and deeper, while the tiny pumps are forcing in the poison. So quickly
does all this take place that the sheath is driven in up to the hilt
and the wound filled with poison, long before we have time to knock the
angry little insect away.

When a bee stings our arm or leg we naturally try to brush or shake it
off. We have seen that the sheath of the sting has barbs, and when we
shake our arm the sting is so fast in the flesh that the jerk causes it
to be pulled out by the roots from the bee’s body. When this occurs it
generally happens that a large part of the bee’s bowel is pulled out
also, and this causes the death of the bee in an hour or so. If we let
the bee alone, however, we shall find that after the darts have been
driven in as far as ever they will go, and after the full amount of
poison has been pumped in, she will commence to turn slowly round and
round, and in this manner will extract the sting, as a corkscrew is
taken out of a cork.

The sting of a worker is quite straight, but that of the queen is
curved like a scimitar. The workers sometimes sting bees from other
hives, but the queen will never sting any bee but a rival queen. The
sting of one bee is immediately fatal to another.




CHAPTER XIX

THE ANCIENTS AND BEES


Before we go on to consider the habits of the bees, I think you will be
interested to hear something about their early history, and how they
used to be kept in bygone ages. Thus we shall be able to trace the
progress of bee-keeping from its earliest sources to the present day,
and to realise the wonderful improvements of modern methods upon those
of the ancients.

It is not possible for us to tell with any certainty when bee-keeping
actually commenced, but it has a very ancient origin. No doubt for ages
past it has been the custom of men to obtain honey from the store of
wild bees. For instance, we read in the Bible that John the Baptist
lived for some time in the wilderness on locusts and wild honey. The
earliest records in existence show us that the Egyptians kept bees in
some kind of hive, and that they carefully studied their habits. If
you visit the Egyptian rooms at the British Museum, you may perhaps
see the sarcophagus which contains the mummified remains of a great
king, called Mykernos. This coffin dates back to 3633 years B.C., and
Mykernos was at that time the King of Lower Egypt. On the outside of
the coffin is a peculiar drawing, or hieroglyphic as it is called. It
is something like this:--

[Illustration]

This funny little figure represents a bee, for at that time it was
thought that the bees were ruled over by a king-bee, which the
Egyptians knew to be larger than all the others. Because the bees
always appeared to be so happy under their king, the Egyptians thought
it would be a good symbol to place on the coffin of their ruler. This
is the very earliest known record relating to bees, but we know now, of
course, that the large bee, which seemed to the Egyptians to rule the
others, is not a king but a queen.

Those of you who learn Latin may some day have to translate some books
called the _Georgics_. They were written by a clever man called Virgil,
and although schoolboys do not always like them, yet they are most
interesting, especially the Fourth Book, which tells us a great deal
about bees. Virgil lived in a town called Parthenope, which we now know
as Naples. He was a great bee-keeper, and was never tired of watching
his bees at their work, and moreover he left very accurate accounts of
his observations. Hives in those days were dome-shaped, and made from
pieces of bark stitched together, or sometimes of osiers or plaited
willows. We can imagine the learned Virgil walking in his garden,
surrounded by sweet-smelling flowers and herbs, and by his quaint
bee-hives. Below, down the mountain side, lay “sweet Parthenope,” as
he called it, with its orange and lemon groves. Beyond the town lay
the most beautiful bay in the world, the Bay of Naples, whose water,
as blue as turquoise, shimmered in the summer sun. Over all stood the
crater of mighty Vesuvius, from the cone of which a thin wisp of smoke
hung lazily in the atmosphere. In this way Virgil spent many happy
days, and in the book I have mentioned we may read of his doings, and
of his bees. Most of his ideas about bees were false, but some of the
rules which he laid down for bee-keeping hold good even at the present
time.

Up to the time of Virgil, and even later, the duties of the workers in
the hive were not properly understood. It was not known even that the
largest bee was really the mother of them all, and that the workers
looked after and tended the eggs, which later on would develop into
young bees. In the days of Virgil it was supposed that bees were born
in flowers, or that if an ox was killed and left to decay, a swarm of
bees would be formed in its body and could then be put into a hive.
In the Fourth Georgic very careful instructions are given by Virgil
as to how to prepare an ox for this purpose. Many years ago this was
translated into our language by a bee-keeper, and the wording is so
quaint that I think you will be interested to read the following
extract from the curious directions. We are told that we must find
“a two-year-old bull calf, whose crooked horns be just beginning to
bud. The beaste, his nose-holes and breathing are stopped, in spite
of his much kicking! After he hath been thumped to death, he is left
in the place, and under his sides are put bits of boughs and thyme
and fresh-plucked rosemarie. In time the warm humor beginneth to
ferment inside the soft bones of the carcase, and wonderful to tell
there appear creatures, footless at first, but which soon getting unto
themselves wings, mingle together and buzz about, joying more and more
in their airy life. At last they burst forth, thick as raindroppes from
a summer cloude....”

The supposition that bees were obtained from a dead ox lasted right
down to the seventeenth century, and there is no doubt that the
Egyptians believed in this too, for in some of their records we find
that they buried the body of an ox, leaving the horn-tips just above
the soil. After it had been left so for about a week, the tips of the
horns were sawn off, and a swarm of bees issued, like smoke from a
chimney. What a foolish idea this was, just as though the body of an
ox could, in any manner imaginable, change into a swarm of bees! It
probably originated in the fact that the decaying body of an ox or
other animal quickly becomes surrounded by swarms of flies, wasps, and
other insects.

Up to the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the people had no other
substance than honey with which to sweeten their food, for the mode
of extracting the sweet juice contained in the sugar-cane was not
known till later. Sugar-cane was actually discovered somewhere about
the first century A.D. and a learned writer, Strabo by name, has told
how the chief admiral of the fleet of Alexander the Great found what
he called “a wonderful honey-bearing reed,” whilst on a voyage of
discovery to India. It was not until the fifteenth century, however,
that the Spaniards set up a sugar plantation in Madeira, and extracted
the juice from the cane: even then it was only the rich people who
could afford the new luxury, and others had still to use honey. From
these remarks, then, we can easily understand how necessary bees were
to the people, and how much depended on a good honey year.

Besides using honey for sweetening purposes, the Anglo-Saxons made from
it a drink called Mead. You have no doubt read of this in your history
books, but perhaps you did not know that it was made principally from
honey. Sometimes the juice of mulberries was added to it, to give the
drink a flavour, and it was then called Morat. People who could afford
to do so flavoured it with spices, or sometimes even added wine, and
in this form it was used in the royal palace. In some country places
old-fashioned people still make and drink mead, but it is very rarely
heard of nowadays.

Bees also provided the ancients with wax, from which a sort of candle
was made, for in those times there was no electricity or even gas, and
so the people were very glad to be able to use the wax for lighting
purposes. Nowadays, beeswax, mixed with a little turpentine, is used
for polishing furniture and oilcloth.

[Illustration: PLATE XIV

  The New and the Old]




CHAPTER XX

THE HIVE


A hive may with all truth be called a bee-city, for in it there live
thousands upon thousands of little workers. In this chapter I hope to
tell you about the actual construction of this wonderful city, so that
you may understand more easily the chapters that will follow.

Hives used to be made of straw, and were called “skeps.” Some of these
skeps may still be seen in country places, but they are rapidly being
superseded by the more convenient wooden hive. The two kinds are shown
in Plate XIV. The wooden hive is a kind of box made in a special way,
and it is usually painted white, for this not only looks clean but
also keeps out the heat of the summer sun. You will notice that, like
one of our own houses, it is divided into three storeys. Close to the
floor of the hive, at the bottom of the lowest storey, is the door, and
this is made by cutting a slit in the wooden wall. Two little slips of
wood slide in front of it, so that it can be made narrower, or even
completely closed at the wish of the bee-keeper. If the bees themselves
wish to close up the entrance for any reason, they are able to do so
by blocking it up with wax. The top chamber of all is the roof, which
is empty, and serves to protect the hive from the rain. It must, of
course, be lifted off by the bee-keeper each time he wishes to look
into the hive. The second chamber is a sort of extra storehouse, and it
is used by the bees to store honey when the third chamber is full. This
third chamber is the most important of all, for it is here that the
bees live. It consists of rows upon rows of combs, some of which are
storeplaces for honey, but the greater part form the nurseries where
the young bees are brought up.

All the cells are built of wax, no matter whether they be honey cells
or cradles, and they are constructed in wooden frames which the
bee-keeper places in the hive for the purpose. In Plate XV. we see the
roof and the second chamber removed, exposing the inside of the bottom
chamber. The bee-man in the picture is lifting out one of these frames
of combs in order to examine it. The frames are simply four pieces of
wood, and are used so that the bees may not fasten their combs to the
walls of the hive, for if this were done it would not be possible for
us to remove them from the hive. The number of frames a hive contains
depends on the size and prosperity of the bee-city, and also on the
particular time of the year. If the city is a large one, and the
inhabitants numerous, there may be twelve or fourteen frames, each
containing thousands of separate cells. On the other hand, if the bees
are few, or suffering from any disease, the frames may be reduced to
half this number. Of course, the more numerous the frames, the greater
is the amount of work to be done, and the more workers will be required
to attend to the young bees, and to the duties of the hive. When
all the frames are in position, they look something like the picture in
Plate XVI.

[Illustration: PLATE XV

  Lifting out a Frame of Comb]


[Illustration: PLATE XVI

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Showing the Frames in Position]

When we are examining a frame, we generally cover the others over with
a cloth, for the bees do not like the light to penetrate their city.
The frame having been replaced and the second chamber put on, we cover
all over with thick pieces of felt to keep the hive warm, and on top
is placed the roof. The hive stands on four legs, a few inches above
the level of the ground, and the door is generally sheltered by a kind
of porch. In front of the door there is a board which projects a few
inches, and this is called the alighting-board. On it the bees settle
when returning from the fields, and from it they commence their flight
when leaving the hive.




CHAPTER XXI

A VISIT TO A HIVE


Let us now imagine that we are to pay a visit to a hive. If we are
afraid of stings we may put on thick leather gloves and tie our sleeves
around the wrists, to prevent any curious bee from investigating our
arms. Then over our hats we may place a veil, to keep the bees from our
face, for a sting in the eye would be a serious matter. The bee-man in
Plate XVII. is wearing a veil, as you will see, and the brim of his
straw hat is useful to keep it at a little distance from his face, so
that the bees are not able to sting through it. Before we approach the
hive I must tell you one thing; if a bee flies around you and comes
rather closer to your face than you care about, do not on any account
hit it away. Bees, like some human beings, are very curious by nature,
and they like to investigate anything strange that comes under their
notice. Never mind if one of them comes crawling over your hand, or
even if it steps inside your ear! It will not hurt you if you keep
still, but should you knock it away with your hand, it will become
angry, and probably you will be stung there and then.

[Illustration: PLATE XVII

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Examining a Comb]

Bees are very brave little creatures, and are frightened of nothing
in the world except smoke and the smell of carbolic acid. When we
wish to open the hive and to examine the combs, we must first puff in a
little smoke at the door. Ordinary tobacco smoke would do quite well,
but we more often use a rolled-up piece of brown paper, or some old
rag, which are allowed to smoulder. They are placed inside a tin, which
is fixed to a pair of bellows, and by working the bellows with our hand
we are able to puff out any quantity of smoke from the nozzle with
which the tin is fitted. This is done to frighten the bees, and not to
stupefy them, as most people think. As soon as the smoke reaches them
they rush to the storehouses in order to take in provisions, for they
think some terrible calamity is about to occur. They know that they
would starve if they were forced to leave the hive without a supply
of food, and so by filling their honey-sacs they provide themselves
with food to last at least a day or two. Though the bees are greatly
frightened by the smoke, they have no intention of deserting the city
that they have built with so much labour, unless it is absolutely
necessary; so after taking in supplies they wait to see what is going
to happen. While all this is going on we may look into the hive and
examine the combs, and after doing so the roof is replaced, the smell
of smoke leaves the hive, and the bees settle down again. The honey in
their honey-sacs is put back into the storehouses, and work goes on as
usual throughout the bee-city.




CHAPTER XXII

THE CITY GATE


The door of the hive, or the city gate as it may be called, always
presents a busy spectacle, and Plate XVIII. is a photograph of one.
Bees are constantly alighting on the board, coming so quickly that they
appear to spring from nowhere. Other bees come out of the gates, and
fly away quite as rapidly. Some even are in such a hurry that they do
not wait to crawl on to the board, before taking to flight, but fly
straight out of the door and away into the blue. Then, again, others
do not seem to be in such a hurry, for they come out of the gates, and
stand on the board brushing down their wings, seeming almost as though
they were blinking in the bright light of the morning sun. These are
the young bees, who are on their first expedition to gather honey;
probably they have never been outside the dark hive before, and so they
are unaccustomed to the strong light. They must take careful survey of
the position and surroundings of the hive, so that they will be able
to find it again when returning laden with honey. The bees which dart
straight off from the hive door are the older workers, who have made
many a journey to and fro, and so know very accurately the position of
the hive.

[Illustration: PLATE XVIII

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  The City Gate]

All these are the foragers, or honey gatherers, and it is their
business to visit hundreds of flowers over the country side, and to
extract from them, by the aid of their wonderful tongues, the tiny
drops of nectar. When their honey-sac is full, they return to the hive
with all speed, and rushing inside, hand over the fruits of their
labours to the house bees. You will be surprised to hear that a bee has
to visit over 100 flowers before her honey-sac is filled, and we must
not forget that this tiny sac when full holds only one-third of a drop.
Now you will understand what a great number of bees are required, and
how hard they have to work, in order to make 1 lb. of honey. Yet some
hives give more than 200 lbs. of honey in a season! Just think of the
vast amount of labour and the incessant toil required for this result.
But the bees are always busy, and the proverb, “Go to the ant, thou
sluggard,” might be quite well changed to “bee,” for I question whether
the ant really works harder than the bee. From the time that the first
ray of the morning sun strikes the dewy fields, until the sunset merges
into misty twilight, all is bustle and hurry in the bee-city. So hard
do the foragers work that instead of living three or four years like
the queen, they often live only two or three weeks in the summer. In
this short time their wings become quite worn away, and their poor
little bodies are covered with wounds.

If we look carefully at the door of a hive on a warm summer’s day, we
shall no doubt see some of these poor worn-out creatures. They can no
longer take part in the great work of the hive, and so for a short time
they come out into the sunshine and dodder about the alighting-board.
Their mission in life being over, no doubt they will summon up all
their remaining strength to fly away to some quiet spot where they will
die, unheeded and unknown. Their last thought is to die somewhere away
from the hive, so that their bodies may not interfere with the work of
the city, and will not need others to carry them to a burial-place.
How sad it is to think of these noble little workers, thousands upon
thousands of which out of each hive willingly give up their lives for
the great work of their race.

Besides the ever-busy foragers, there are other bees coming and going
who do not appear to be in such a hurry. Each has two bright-coloured
spots on her hind legs. These bees are the pollen gatherers, who
collect the “bee-flour”; we might rightly call them the millers of the
hive, and a picture of them is shown in Plate XIX.

Some of the bees at the city gates are employed in quite a different
manner; they do not fly afar in search of honey or pollen, but stand
still, with heads pointing to the hive door. They are using their
wings so vigorously that we cannot see them, just as the propeller of
an aeroplane is invisible, because it is turning so quickly. These
are the ventilating bees, whose duty it is to keep the hive cool on
hot days. The quick fanning of their wings draws out the heated air
from the hive, and if we were able to peep inside the door we should
see other bees also engaged in the same occupation. These, too, stand
with their heads towards the hive door, but instead of fanning out the
hot air, as the outside bees do, they draw a stream of pure, cool air
into the hive. By this simple and wonderful arrangement the bees are
able to regulate the temperature to a nicety, for if it grows too
warm, they have only to set more fanners to work, to expel the hot air.
The temperature of the hive is a very important matter, for should
it become too high the young ones would be suffocated, whilst if it
dropped too low they would be starved to death.

[Illustration: PLATE XIX

  Pollen gathers at Hive Door]

The fanning is very hard work, and so, if we watch, we see that as
a bee grows tired her place is taken by a fresh worker, and so the
ventilating is constantly kept up.

During the hot nights of summer, in the busiest time, the hive is
thronged with workers who have come home from the fields to shelter
from the dew and cold of the night. The city then becomes very crowded
and hot, and a large army of bees must be kept at work ventilating.
If, on such a night, we were to steal down to the hive with a lighted
candle and place it a few inches from the door, the draught caused by
the fanners would be quite strong enough to blow out the flame!




CHAPTER XXIII

THE GUARD BEES


If we watch for a short time at the city gates, we shall very likely
see two bees apparently fighting desperately. If we look closely we
may see that one of the bees has hold of the other by the wing, and is
dragging it away from the door. To and fro the fight rages, and the
bee which is held struggles fiercely, but without avail, for the other
has her in a firm grip. The captive bee is really a robber, which has
been caught whilst trying to slip into the hive to steal honey. It may
be that the robber is from another hive, or perhaps is a wild bee,
for there are communities of bees which are really like pirates. They
have their homes in some hollow tree, and live either by robbing other
cities, or by waylaying workers on their return from the fields, and
taking from them the honey which they have so laboriously gathered. The
bees, therefore, have found it very necessary that there should be a
guard at the gates of their cities, and there are always some soldier
bees on sentry-go.

To us, no doubt, one bee looks very much like another, and it is a
mystery how the guards are able to recognise a strange bee. It is
probable that the sense of smell has a great deal to do with this,
for it is thought that all the bees of one hive smell alike, but
differently from those of another hive, and that by this means the
guards may detect a robber. A strange bee is never allowed to cross the
threshold unless it is perhaps in the busy season, when the bees are
“working overtime” as we might say, straining every nerve and muscle
to gather in as much honey as they can before the summer goes and the
flowers die. Then if a stranger comes to the hive, with her honey-sac
full of the precious fluid, she may be allowed to pass in. Wasps often
try to gain an entrance, as also do many other insects of one sort or
another. If we watch the door for quite a short time in summer, it is
pretty certain that we shall see several struggles. Sometimes it takes
two or even three bees to expel the intruder.

On one occasion I witnessed a fight which lasted well over half-an-hour
between a robber bee and a guard bee. They rolled over and over on the
board, this way and that, each trying to get the better of the other.
At last they fell on to the ground below, but even then they did not
stop the fight, and the struggle continued on the grass. Eventually
the guard bee won the day, and by what appeared to be a final effort,
she managed to pierce the abdomen of the robber bee with her sting.
Instantly the robber bee was killed, and the brave little soldier bee
returned to the hive in triumph.

It is not easy for one bee to sting another, for the abdomen and thorax
are so hard that it can only be done through one of the rings of the
abdomen, where the skin is thin.




CHAPTER XXIV

WORKERS IN THE CITY


Besides the fanners, the foragers, and the guards, there are other
classes of bees at work in the hive. There are, for instance, the
scavengers and cleaners-up, whose duty it is to keep the city and the
combs spotlessly clean. Little twigs, dead leaves, and bits of gravel
are all removed by these bees. Sometimes a mouse or a snail enters
the hive, and then indeed there is great excitement. Imagine a great
elephant-like creature, thirty or forty feet high, with a tail thirty
feet long, to come walking into one of our cities, and you will have
some idea what it seems like to the bees when a mouse is foolish enough
to poke its head into the hive! But the bees are not frightened; the
guards are promptly called out, and the poor mouse is soon put to death
by hundreds of stings. Having made sure that the intruder is quite
dead, the bees leave his body to the scavengers, who are confronted
with the problem of disposing of it. If it were left it would cause
disease and pestilence throughout the city, and it is too big and heavy
for them to move. It is true that they might bite it into tiny pieces
and thus carry it outside the hive, but this would take too much of
the bees’ valuable time. A better plan is thought of, and the body is
soon covered over with a thin coating of wax. It is thus embalmed in
a beautiful white tomb, which is made perfectly air-tight. If the tomb
is near to the door, and interferes with the passing in and out of the
workers, tunnels are cut through it. Sometimes when we look inside a
hive, we may see two or three of these little mounds of wax, and we may
be sure that each one is the grave of some intruder who had no right to
be there.

Then there are the undertakers, who have a grim duty to perform. They
carry away the bodies of workers who may have died within the hive,
and in winter they have a busy time. It has been said, with what truth
we do not know, that each hive has a burial-ground where the bodies of
its workers are placed. It may be behind some bush in a corner of the
garden, or perhaps down by the willows which fringe the banks of the
stream. Whether this is so or not, it is certain that the undertakers
carry the bodies of the dead bees away from the hive, so that they
shall not pollute the pure air of the city and so cause disease. Now
and then as we watch we may see one of these undertakers carrying what
looks like the ghost of a bee! It is a bee in form, but its wings are
folded, and its body is not a beautiful brown, but pearly white. This
is a young bee, which has died before its birth, in the cell which
has been both its cradle and its tomb. In winter, when it is too cold
for the undertakers to journey far with their gruesome burdens, they
will drop them just over the alighting-board, and so we sometimes see
the ground near a hive strewn with dead bees, for many die during the
colder months.

The water carriers are the bees who fly backwards and forwards between
some neighbouring stream and the hive, supplying it with the water
necessary to the workers. A hive should be placed near a stream or
river, so that the bees may have as much water as they want, and they
are helped in this if the stream be a shallow one in which there are
little pebbles and rocks so that they can easily sip up the water.
Another class of workers are the chemists, whose duty it is to place
a tiny drop of acid, from their poison-bag, into each cell of honey,
before it is finally sealed over. The acid supplied is chiefly what is
called formic acid, and this is a very good preservative; it serves to
keep the honey fresh and sweet until it is wanted.

You will remember that we said that it was actually good for us to be
stung. This is because the formic acid which is pumped into the wound
by the bee mixes with our blood, and prevents rheumatism. You will
hardly ever find that a bee-keeper is troubled with this complaint.




CHAPTER XXV

THE COMB BUILDERS


In order to trace the history of a hive, and to learn about the round
of work which goes on day by day, we will suppose that a swarm of bees
has been placed in an empty hive. We shall then be able to follow them
as they commence with the first necessary work of building the combs.
Our later chapters will lead us through the whole cycle of hive life.

We have already seen how the frames are placed within the hive, but we
have yet to learn how the combs are built in them. Before the builders
can set to work, however, it is necessary that the wax, of which the
combs are constructed, should be made.

When a swarm of bees first enters the empty hive, numbers of them climb
to the roof, and fasten themselves, by means of their tiny claws, to
points of vantage. Other bees then join them, each hooking its claws
in the claws of another, and in this manner chains of living bees hang
from the roof in festoons. As time goes on these chains become more
numerous, until the hanging bees look like a large cluster, for the
chains cross and intertwine. All the bees do not form themselves into
chains, for guards are posted at the hive door, while others examine
every corner of their new home. The scavengers have to clean the floor
and carry away twigs or gravel, so that everything shall be perfectly
tidy for the builders to start work.

Now commences that wonderful and mysterious process of wax forming,
which is carried on in perfect silence by the cluster of hanging bees.
You will remember that the abdomen of the worker is composed of six
rings; underneath these are the eight wax-pockets. There are two in
each ring except in the first and last. It is perhaps interesting to
note that the queen and the drone have no wax-pockets because they do
not take part in the making of wax. For a similar reason their legs
are not furnished with wax-pincers, like those of the worker. As the
bees hang from the roof of the hive, in solemn and impressive silence,
tiny scales are to be seen protruding from the wax-pockets. They look
almost like a letter which has been pushed half-way into the slot of
a pillar-box. A wax-pocket produces one wax scale, and so the workers
each make eight tiny pieces of wax. In order that wax may be made in
this manner it is necessary for the bees to consume a large quantity of
honey, 10 or 15 lbs. of which produces only 1 lb. of wax.

We have already seen that the hind leg of the worker is provided with
a set of wax-pincers (see Plate X.), and when the tiny scale of wax
has been formed, these pincers take hold of it and remove it from the
pocket. By means of the front legs it is then passed to the mouth, and
here the strong little jaws come in useful. In its present state the
wax is hard and rough, and it must be made smooth and pliable. It is
mixed with juices supplied by glands in the bee’s mouth, and worked by
the jaws until it is so soft that it can be moulded into any desired
shape. Often, when wax is being made, the floor of the hive becomes
covered with wax plates which have fallen from the cluster above. When
the wax has been kneaded to the correct degree of softness, the worker
will leave the cluster of hanging bees, and crawl to the highest part
of the roof of the hive. This is the foundation-stone of the combs,
for they are not built upwards from the ground as our houses are, but
downwards from the roof.

[Illustration: PLATE XX

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Queen Cells on Comb]

When the first plate of wax is in position, the little worker will take
the other plates one by one from her wax-pockets, and knead them as
she did the first. Each in turn will be placed on the foundation, and
then the bee will again join the cluster. Immediately she disappears,
however, her place will be taken by another, who goes through exactly
the same process. She in turn will be followed by another, and so on,
until a small piece of beautiful white wax hangs from the roof. At this
stage it is time for the architects to plan out the position and shape
of the first cells, which are to be sculptured out of the wax. If we
watch, we may see one of these bees appear, and it is evident that she
knows exactly what to do, and just what shape the first cell is to be.
She moulds the unformed wax by means of her jaws, and very soon the
outline of the cell is seen. It is hollowed out, and the wax removed in
this process is carefully placed so as to form the walls. Meanwhile,
another architect has been doing a similar thing on the opposite side
of the piece of wax, for the cells are built back to back, as by this
arrangement there is a saving of material. The wax-makers continue to
add more and more wax, the sculptors go on with their work, and soon
the form of the comb becomes apparent.

I suppose every one knows that bee cells are hexagonal, or six-sided.
If they were made circular, you can easily understand that there would
be a great deal of space and material wasted, for the spaces between
the cells would need to be filled up. Then, again, if they were made
diamond-shaped, there would still be places to fill in. It is true they
might be made four-sided, but apart from the fact that such cells would
not be strong enough, it is not possible for them to be made thus, for
the angles would be too great for the bees to get their jaws into the
corners. It has been found that six-sided cells are the strongest and
the most economical, but how the bees found this out, too, is a mystery.

[Illustration: CRADLE CELLS.]

There are three kinds of bee cells: firstly the cradle cells, in which
the young bees are reared. They are 1/2 inch deep and 1/5th inch in
diameter. There will therefore be about twenty-eight in a square inch
of comb, but as the drone is slightly larger than the worker, his
cradle must be bigger. We find accordingly that the drone cells are
1/4th inch in diameter, or about eighteen to the square inch.

Then there are the royal cells, which are altogether different. In them
the young queens are reared, and in appearance they are something like
acorn cups. In Plate XX. you see a picture of a frame of comb, taken
from the hive with the bees still on it. The bee-man is pointing to
two of these queen cells, and you will see that they hang downwards, in
a place where the ordinary comb has been cut away to make room for them.

Lastly there are the honey cells, which are of the same size as the
cradle cells, but instead of being built horizontal they are made
sloping upwards. By constructing them in this way honey stored in them
is prevented from running out over the combs.

[Illustration: HONEY CELLS.]

The back of the cells, or the dividing wall between the two sets, is
not flat, as we might imagine. If you look at the sketches you will see
that the cells are fitted into one another so cleverly that the bottom
of one cell forms half of the bottoms of two cells of the other side of
the comb. All the cells of one sort, say for instance the honey cells,
are made exactly the same size, and do not differ by the fraction of
an inch. How the bees are able to measure the width when building them
is a mystery. Perhaps the antennæ have some important part to play in
this matter, but if so it has yet to be discovered. Another thing which
is as curious as it is mysterious is how the sculptors on each side of
the comb are able to fit in the cells so neatly that each one is in its
right place with regard to the cells on the other side of the dividing
wall. It is certain that the workers cannot see through the wall of
wax, and yet the two lots of cells correspond exactly.




CHAPTER XXVI

THE LIFE OF THE BEE


All the time the cells are being built the queen wanders about the
hive in a distracted fashion, because there are no cells ready for
her to fill. Now that some are ready, however, her movements change.
Surrounded by her councillors, or ladies-in-waiting, as we might call
them, she clambers over the comb and selects a cell in which to lay the
first egg. She very carefully examines the cell by placing her head
in it and feeling the sides with her antennæ. Being satisfied that it
is in a fit state to become the cradle of a young bee, she withdraws
her head and then the egg is laid. All this time the ladies-in-waiting
stand round, and in the season for egg-laying you may quickly pick out
the queen by the circle of bees about her (see Plate III.). They guide
her over the comb, feed and clean her; sometimes, too, we may see them
stroking her very tenderly with their antennæ. After the first egg
is deposited in the cell, the queen moves to the next, and so on all
through the summer. During this time she lays day and night, and does
not appear to sleep.

The eggs are little pearly-looking objects something like tiny rice
grains, and each one is fastened to its cell by a drop of gummy liquid.

In the meantime the bees are at work building combs with all haste,
for the queen is close on their heels, demanding more and more cells.
She does not rest until the whole of the ten or twelve frames have been
completely filled with cells and eggs. By this time the first eggs
which were laid will have hatched out into young bees, who will leave
their cradles to take part in the duties of the hive. These first cells
will then be cleaned out by the scavengers, and the queen will lay more
eggs in them. In this way the queen goes on all the summer, and as a
matter of fact, if the hive be a prosperous one, she may lay as many as
3000 eggs each day! After the eggs have been laid the queen does not
appear to take the slightest interest in what may become of them. On
the other hand, the worker bees do, for they know that on these tiny
little eggs depends the future of the hive.

In three or four days an egg will hatch into a tiny white grub, which
the nurse bees immediately commence to feed. It is not fed upon honey,
though, for that would be like feeding a baby on roast beef! The nurse
bees have certain glands in their bodies by which they are able to turn
honey into a kind of bee-milk, and this is called “chyle food.” For
three days the little grub is carefully fed upon this preparation, and
then it is given “modified chyle food,” as it is called, which is also
bee-milk, but richer than before. During these few days the grub casts
its skin and grows very quickly, until on the fifth day it turns into a
chrysalis, just as a caterpillar does before becoming a butterfly. The
bee-grub spins a soft silken cocoon, and the sculptor bees come along
and seal over the mouth of the cell with a cover, which admits air so
that the grub may breathe.

The grub then commences what is called its _metamorphosis_--a Greek
word meaning “a change of form”--and a wonderful change it is. In
sixteen days from the time that the cell was closed up, the fat little
grub turns into a perfect worker, just like a caterpillar changes into
a butterfly. The young bee is now ready to emerge from her cell, and
the porous capping is the only barrier. The little prisoner, however,
finds that she has a sharp pair of jaws and so begins to bite the
capping. Slowly it is all snipped away, and we see a tiny hole appear,
which grows larger and larger. In a few moments out comes one of the
antennæ, and waves about as though to explore the world beyond the
cell. It seems to give a good report to the little bee, for the biting
of the cap is redoubled, and before long, assisted perhaps by some of
the nurse bees, the youngster slowly emerges. She is, however, very
pale and weak as yet, and so the nurse bees commence to clean and feed
her. She soon gains sufficient strength to take an interest in what is
going on around, and we may imagine that she is somewhat surprised to
find how busy is the city into which she has stepped--every one rushing
here, there, and all over, none seeming to take any notice of the young
bee, and everybody apparently having something to do, and to be in a
great hurry to do it!

A fortunate insect is the little bee, none the less; for she has no
need to attend school or to have any lessons. She knows all that she
need know as soon as she is born. In a few hours’ time, for instance,
she will be feeding grubs, just as she was fed by other bees some days
before. She will know all about the city, the duties which she has
to perform, and the respect which she must pay to the queen, her
mother. After perhaps a fortnight or so of nurses’ work she will join
the ranks of the foragers, and seek the nectar of the sweet-scented
flowers.

[Illustration: PLATE XXI

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Queen Cells]

This, then, is the history of the birth of a worker bee, of which a
prosperous hive may contain anything from 30,000 to 60,000. The history
of the birth of a drone is practically the same, except that in his
case it takes twenty-five days for the egg to change into the complete
insect.




CHAPTER XXVII

THE STORY OF THE QUEEN


Among most nations it is customary for the kingship to be handed down
from father to son, but no such rule exists in the bee-city. Although
we call one of the bees the Queen, she is not really a queen in the
ordinary sense of the word. She does not rule the hive, nor can she
command the bees to do this thing or that, and a far better name for
her would be the Mother bee.

Up to the seventeenth century it was thought that a hive was ruled
over by a king-bee, and it was not known that this large bee was the
mother of all the other bees, and yet this is so, as we have already
seen. Whether or not a queen shall be born depends on the wish of the
workers, and it is surprising to find that a queen is developed from
an ordinary egg, which, if it were not subjected to certain different
processes, would turn into a worker bee.

[Illustration: PLATE XXII

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  An Empty Queen Cell]

When the bees desire that a queen shall be born, the builders and
sculptors are first consulted. They set to work to make three or four
queen cells, or, as we might call them, royal cradles; in one of them
the future queen will be reared. We have already seen that queen cells
are different from the ordinary cells, and that for their accommodation
a part of the comb is cut away. This gives better ventilation, and
the royal cells hang downwards from the comb as seen in Plate XXI. The
nurse bees now place in the first an egg from one of the worker cells,
but this egg must not be more than three days old, otherwise a queen
would not be produced, no matter what efforts the bees might make.
Eggs are placed in the other cells at intervals of three days. On the
fourth day the first egg hatches into a grub, just as it did in the
case of the worker bee, whose career it resembles up to this stage. But
now the nurse bees, instead of feeding it upon chyle food, commence
to supply it with “royal jelly” as it is called. This is a very rich
form of food, and is only given to those grubs which it is intended
shall become queens. The nurse bees continue to pay special attention
to the little grub, and give it as much of the royal jelly as it can
take. This goes on until the ninth day, when the grub spins a cocoon
and the cell is closed up. On the sixteenth day from the time the egg
was laid the young princess will be ready to leave her cell; she will
then commence to gnaw the floor in order that she may get out. In Plate
XXII. there is shown an empty queen cell, the floor of which has been
cut away in this manner.

Thus we see that the making of the queen rests entirely with the
workers themselves, and depends simply on an egg being placed in
a certain kind of cell, and having special food and plenty of
ventilation. After the queen has been hatched, the royal cell is cut
away, and its place filled with honey cells. The wax of the cell is not
wasted, but used in the construction of new comb.




CHAPTER XXVIII

THE POLLEN GATHERERS


Let us now follow one of the pollen-gathering bees on her quest of
bee-flour, which is so necessary for feeding the inhabitants of the
hive. Having first taken a careful survey of the position of the hive
and its surroundings, our little worker flies off at top speed to the
hillside or the orchards where, it may be, the fruit trees are in full
bloom. On her way, perhaps, she will decide what kind of pollen is to
be gathered, for different kinds of pollen are kept quite separate,
just as our own flours are separated. It remains a mystery why bees
should keep the different pollens apart, as it seems to us that it
would not matter much if they were mixed, but no doubt the bees know
better than we do. Although buttercups may be scarce, and though the
hedges are laden with hawthorn blossom, yet if the gathering bee has
started to collect buttercup pollen, she will pass by the hawthorn and
search diligently for buttercups in the adjoining meadows.

[Illustration: PLATE XXIII

  Storing the pollen in cells]

Arriving at the flower, the little worker alights and moves about it,
so that very soon her hairy body becomes covered with pollen, as shown
in the _frontispiece_. Although she was a brown bee when she alighted
on the flower, now she is all golden yellow, and looks like a dusty
miller. It is here that the brushes and combs with which the legs are
furnished come in useful, and after two or three flowers have been
visited, we may see her brushing down her body, and combing the pollen
grains out of the hairs in which they are entangled. The collected
pollen is then moistened with a tiny drop of honey, and kneaded into
little round pellets, which are placed in the pollen baskets. This
being done, the bee flies on and on, visiting other flowers, until
her baskets are quite full. Sometimes the bee gathers more than can
be carried in her baskets, so she returns to the hive with her body
smothered in gaily-coloured pollen.

Though her wings are strong, yet the load of pollen is heavy, and all
her strength is needed to reach the hive in safety. It may be that she
is almost exhausted before she can alight on the board at the city
gates. So she will settle on a leaf or some flower, like a ship coming
to anchor, in the harbour of the garden, and here for a few seconds she
will rest, to gain fresh strength for the final flight. Some of the
bees seem to act as inspectors, or general helpers as it were, always
on the lookout to do somebody a good turn or to lend a helping hand
wherever it may be required. And now, as the pollen gatherer makes a
final flight to the board, these bees come forward and help her to drag
her load safely within the city. Once inside the door, the worker makes
straight for the cells which might be called the flour bins, for here
the pollen is stored. A picture of them is to be seen in Plate XXIII.,
and you will notice that the different kinds of pollen are still kept
separate. Arrived here, the gatherer levers the pellets out of the
baskets by means of the spurs on each of her middle legs. These act as
little crowbars, and the pollen is then placed in the cells. If it is
not intended for immediate use, some of the house bees will cover it
over with a layer of honey, for it would not keep if left exposed to
the air. We should imagine that the pollen gatherer would now take a
rest, or at any rate some refreshment. This, however, is not the case,
for no sooner has she got rid of her load than she darts towards the
door, and before we have time to follow her she is off to the fields
again for another load. From morning to night she continues to travel
backwards and forwards between the flowers and the hive. Is it any
wonder, then, that at the end of a few weeks’ time the brave little
worker will have completely worn away her wings, and will lie down and
die?

When watching the alighting-board, you will remember that we remarked
on the pollen gatherers entering the hive, each with the little
baskets filled with bright-coloured pollen; from the colour of the
pollen we may tell from what flowers the bees have brought it. The
deep golden-brown comes from the gorse bloom, away on the hill; the
snow-white from the hawthorn, and the vivid yellow from the buttercup,
or perhaps the dandelion. The pale green is from the gooseberry bushes,
whilst the pollen of the charlock is golden and clover pollen is
russet-brown. Sometimes, when the poppies are growing among the corn,
the little gatherers will return with loads of jet-black pollen, while
the orchards give many delicate hues, the most beautiful of which is
the light yellow from the apple blossom. On rare occasions, we may see
a worker come laden with pollen of deep crimson, but the source of this
wonderfully coloured stuff is a mystery, for we do not know from what
flower it is obtained.




CHAPTER XXIX

THE VARNISH MAKERS


Some people think that bees gather only honey and pollen, but there is
another substance which they collect, and this is called “propolis.”
The poplar and pine trees have, as perhaps you know, a resinous kind of
matter covering their new shoots, whilst the horse-chestnut protects
its leaf buds with a similar sticky substance. This the bees gather,
and they draw it off the trees in thin strings, just as sometimes you
see children playing with a piece of sticky toffee, by pulling it into
two pieces. The bees then roll these strings into balls, and pack them
in their pollen baskets, and return to the hive. The other bees help to
unload as soon as the gatherers arrive, for the sticky substance soon
hardens, and must therefore be got out of the pollen baskets as quickly
as possible, and for the same reason it must be used at once. The bees
then knead it with their jaws and mix with it some liquid from their
mouths, until it is quite soft and pliable.

With this preparation, which is really like varnish, the bees coat the
whole of the inside walls if the hive is a new one. Should there be
any cracks in the walls or floor, they are carefully filled up to keep
out the cold and damp. Then again the propolis, in a stronger form, is
used for fastening the combs to the frames, and for any other objects
which the little engineers may think need firmly fixing. When we open
a hive we find that the felts, which cover the combs and keep them
warm, are firmly fastened down to the frames, and sometimes we have to
use considerable force to get them off. The frames holding the combs
are fastened into position, too, with propolis, and a mixture of this
substance and wax is used to cover over the bodies of any intruders
who have entered the hive and have been stung to death. The combs
containing sealed cells of honey are subjected to a coating of very
thin propolis to keep them sweet and clean. Plate XXIV. is a photograph
of a frame of comb just removed from the hive. Towards the top you will
see bees busy capping the honey cells, and others are varnishing them
over with propolis. The cells inside the white lines are pollen cells,
and you may see pollen-pellets in them.

[Illustration: PLATE XXIV

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  A Frame of Comb, showing Bees at Work storing Honey and Pollen]




CHAPTER XXX

THE NECTAR GATHERERS


In this chapter I propose to relate to you the day’s work of a nectar
gatherer, or forager. These are perhaps the most important workers
in the hive. If you look it up in your dictionary you will find that
nectar is described as being “any pleasant liquid.” I want you to
understand that the bees do not actually gather what we call honey.
What the bees gather, and what the flowers secrete, is nectar, which is
a thin watery liquid, containing among other things a large proportion
of cane sugar.

Arrived at the meadow the forager alights on the first suitable flower
she comes to, and dips her tongue down to the nectaries. Even the
tiniest droplet of nectar can be collected by means of the spoon at
the tip of the proboscis. She visits flower after flower until her
honey-sac is filled, and then she sets out on the return journey to
the hive. Whilst she flies a change takes place within the honey-sac.
First of all the nectar is strained, to separate the pollen, and in the
manner we have already seen. Then some juices are added to it which are
supplied by glands in the bee’s body. The cane sugar is changed into
another form, called grape sugar.

Cane sugar is not good for either us or animals to eat, but on the
other hand grape sugar is beneficial. You will know that we cannot
derive any nourishment from our food until it has been acted upon by
the saliva of the mouth and by certain juices in the stomach. The food
is then said to be digested. Practically the same change is carried
out in the bee’s body, the nectar being converted into honey. In her
case, however, the change is not made only upon the food she consumes
herself, but also on that contained in the honey-sac. Many people think
that the honey they eat is just in the same state as it is in the
nectaries of the flowers from which it has been gathered, but now you
will know that this is not so. The reason that honey is good for us is
that it has already been partly digested by the bees, and therefore our
stomach is saved a certain amount of work.

Our bee has now arrived at the hive, and as she passes the guard bees
she is recognised as being one of themselves, and her entry to the
hive is not delayed. The guards may salute her as she passes, with a
wave of their antennæ, and she hurries off to the storehouses. Here
the warehouse bees are kept busy storing away the honey brought in by
the foragers, and to one of these bees our little friend hands over
her load. At least she does not “hand” it over, but passes it from her
tongue to that of the other bee, who in turn swallows it. This bee then
climbs to the cell she is filling, and placing her tongue therein,
empties the honey into it. No sooner has the forager been relieved
of her load than she makes her way to the hive door, pushing and
struggling, butting with her head here, or crawling over her sisters
there, until she at last forces her way through the crowd and flies off
to gather further supplies. A bee that is one day gathering nectar
will probably collect pollen the next day, and _vice versa_. By this
arrangement the organs which change the nectar into honey are given a
rest.

We cannot tell how bees are able to find their way home to the hive so
cleverly. They may fly two, three, four, or even more miles away to
the flowers, but they are always able to return. If a forager bee is
imprisoned in a box, and carried a couple of miles away and released,
she will reach the hive long before we could; in this respect you will
see that bees are something like homing pigeons.




CHAPTER XXXI

THE WINTER SLEEP


During the summer the bees work only with the idea of storing away
sufficient honey to last them during the dark days of winter, when
there are no flowers. In the tropics, where perpetual summer reigns,
the bees live as it were from hand to mouth, and do not store nearly
so much honey as those bees which live in climes where the summer is
followed by a long winter.

When autumn comes, and the flowers vanish, the bees gather round the
queen on the combs of the hive; we see some of them in Plate XXV. The
builders block up the doorway with wax until only a narrow passage is
left, just large enough to allow them to travel in and out. This is
done to keep out the cold of winter, for then it is necessary for the
temperature inside the hive to be as high as possible.

In this cluster the bees pass the winter in a kind of sleep. They eat
the honey which they have stored, and wait for the arrival of spring.
The outermost bees of the cluster are of course the coldest, and so
that each may take a turn at being on the outside, they constantly
change places. They only leave the hive on a few occasions during this
time, and then it is to take a short flight for exercise.

[Illustration: PLATE XXV

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Bees clustering in Winter]

When the bright sunshine comes, and the crocuses tell of the coming of
spring, the bees begin to bestir themselves. Sometimes when it has been
snowing, and the snow is lying on the ground, the bees are deceived
by the glare into thinking that spring has come; they fly out to look
for flowers, but many of them are killed by the cold. When spring is
actually at hand, however, the pollen gatherers are despatched to the
crocuses and other early flowers. They come back laden with pollen, and
as soon as the queen bee sees this she commences to lay. These eggs
will develop into the bees which will carry on the work of the hive
during the summer. The bees which have slept through the winter only
live long enough to look after these eggs, and to bring the young bees
safely into the world.

It is interesting to note that the amount of nectar and pollen gathered
will, to a certain extent, regulate the number of eggs that the queen
will lay. If food is scarce she will not lay many, for if she did
a great number would have no food and all would die of starvation.
If, on the other hand, honey and pollen are abundant, hundreds or
even thousands of eggs will be laid in a single day. The number is
increased, too, as spring merges into summer, and for a fortnight or
three weeks in May or June, the hive is at its busiest. During this
period the fields are white with clover, and the flowers are at their
best. This time is known as the honey flow, and if the hive be a
prosperous one, the honey does literally flow into the combs.




CHAPTER XXXII

THE SWARM


It is not known exactly why bees swarm, and it has been said that
it is because the hive becomes overpopulated. When the hive becomes
crowded early in the summer, the bees build queen cells, and in them
royal princesses are reared, as we have already seen. When the time
approaches for them to leave the cells, the old queen begins to get
very excited, for she seems to know that a rival is about to be born.
She would like to rush to the cells and put the young princesses to
death, and indeed she would do this, were not the cells guarded by the
other bees, who anticipate trouble with the old queen. So, though she
may make the attempt, after being repulsed time after time she will
give up, and adopt another procedure. She seems to realise that her
rule in the hive is at an end, and so she determines to leave it on
the first fine day, with as many of the other bees as will accompany
her, and to fly to pastures new. All is then commotion with the bees
that will go with her, and they seem to eagerly await the signal to
be off. No one knows how it is decided which bees shall go, or which
shall remain, for old or young, builders or foragers, may go or stay.
All who are going, however, take in supplies of honey, and when the
appointed time has arrived the swarm issues from the door of the hive
in a thick black stream. The old queen will be among them, and they
generally fly to some tree close at hand. A suitable spot is chosen, on
one of the branches perhaps, and the leading bees settle there. These
are quickly joined by the others, so that in a few seconds the cluster
is as large as an orange. It grows larger and larger, until after a few
minutes from the time the bees left the hive in a mad throng, they will
all be quietly hanging in a pear-shaped mass like those in Plate XXVI.

[Illustration: PLATE XXVI

  From a photograph by]      [W. Dixon

  A Swarm]

A swarm is a wonderful sight, for the bees are almost perfectly still,
and hang in a glistening mass, clinging to one another by their tiny
hooked claws. Sometimes the leading bees of a swarm choose queer places
in which to cluster: one lot, for instance, swarmed on to the beard of
a gardener, whilst another found a resting-place on the neck of a horse
which was standing under some trees!

As soon as the bees have swarmed on the branch, or wherever they may
have settled, scouts are sent out to look for a suitable place for the
new home. They return with news of some spot which they think would
serve the purpose. This scout thinks that the hollow tree she has
found would be best, but another says that a little cave in the rocks
would be better. Meanwhile more scouts are despatched, and when all
the different proposals have been considered, and all possible places
discussed, it is finally settled where the future home shall be. Headed
by the scouts, who now act as guides, the swarm then takes to flight
once more, and will not stop until it reaches the chosen spot. Wherever
or whatever it may be matters not, for the bees will have to commence
at the very beginning of the cycle of home life, and as soon as they
are all inside the new home the wax-makers will climb to the highest
points, hang in chains, and begin to make the wax for the combs,
exactly as we saw in a previous chapter.

[Illustration: PLATE XXVII

  The Bees in their New Home]




CHAPTER XXXIII

TAKING THE SWARM


Bee-keepers watch for the issuing of the swarm, and when it occurs
they get ready to take it, so as to fill another hive with bees.
Having found where the bees are hanging, an empty hive is brought to
the spot and placed under the branch. The bees are then shaken into
it, or they may be even gathered in handfuls, or with a spoon, and
placed in the new hive (see Plate XXVII.). At the time of swarming
bees are practically harmless, for they have taken so much honey that
they do not feel disposed to sting. The old straw skeps are often used
for taking a swarm, for they may be more conveniently handled than
the larger and heavier wooden hives. The hive which is to be their
permanent home is placed close at hand too, with a clean white cloth
on a board leading to the door in front of it. After the bees have
been shaken into the skep they are emptied on to the cloth, and at
once commence to walk into their new home (Plate XXVIII.). There are
thousands upon thousands of bees in a swarm, and pictures of them going
into new hives are shown on Plates XXIX. and XXX. In order to show
how harmless the bees are at swarming time, the bee-man in the first
picture has taken a handful of them, as we may see.

There is an old rhyme which says:

  “A swarm in May, worth a load of hay,
  A swarm in June, worth a silver spoon,”

and the bee-keeper is pleased should his bees swarm in May, for then
he will be able to put them in a new hive, and they will gather a good
supply of honey before the summer is over. Should the swarm take place
a month or two later, however, the bees do not settle down in time to
gather sufficient honey for the winter, and they cause the bee-keeper
trouble, for he has to feed them with syrup.

After a swarm, the bees seem to forget all about their old life and
companions, for the hive containing the swarm may be placed quite close
to the old hive without either set of bees taking the slightest notice
of the other.

If a bee-keeper is not at hand to take the swarm, the bees will
probably make their home in some hollow tree. They will commence to
build combs, and young bees will be reared and honey stored just as in
a hive.

[Illustration: PLATE XXVIII

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Thousands of Bees walking into their New Home]




CHAPTER XXXIV

THE OLD HIVE AFTER A SWARM


After the old queen has left with the swarm, the bees have to decide
what to do about a new queen, and the eldest princess is, as we have
already seen, clamouring to be set free from her cell. Although she
gnaws away at the floor of her cell the bees keep her a prisoner, by
piling more wax on the outside of the cell. She is kept thus until
the old queen has got away with the swarm, otherwise there would be a
terrible fight between the rival queens.

However, the bees now decide to set the young princess at liberty, and
two courses are open to them. If the hive has got what is called the
“swarming fever,” the princess will lead a second swarm, for she knows
that in a few days another princess will be born. This second swarm is
called “the cast,” and unlike the first, flies away at once, no matter
what the weather may be, for there is no time to be lost. The cast does
not settle near the hive as the first swarm does, but flies quite away,
and is generally lost to the bee-keeper.

If, as is generally the case, the hive has not got swarming fever,
the bees adopt the princess as their queen. As soon as this course is
decided upon, the bees allow her to visit the cells containing her
rivals, and with savage anger she inserts her sting in each cell and
puts them to death.

During the next few days she wanders about the hive in a restless
fashion, constantly going to the door. After a while she leaves the
hive and flies high up into the air. She is not allowed to go alone,
however, but is followed by numbers of drones. In about an hour’s time
she returns, and the bees know that she is now mated and will remain
quietly in the hive. The hive then resumes its ordinary life, and the
young queen commences to enter upon her new duties. The queen cells are
no longer required, and so they are cut down; the builders set to work
to erect nursery cells in their place, for every available inch of room
will be required by the young queen for laying eggs.

[Illustration: PLATE XXIX

  Bees going into a Skep]




CHAPTER XXXV

THE MASSACRE OF THE DRONES


We have already seen that the drones do no work in the hive, nor
do they gather nectar or pollen. They live a life of ease, feeding
upon the honey gathered by the workers, and it has been said that
each drone eats as much food as can be provided by four workers. You
may understand from this that the drones would quickly eat up the
provisions which have been gathered for the winter. The workers know
this too, and when the summer begins to go and the flowers to fade, the
drones will meet their fate. They are always under the power of the
workers, for besides eating honey, they are given chyle food, and were
the workers not to give them this, at the end of three days the drones
would die, even though there was plenty of honey around them.

It is not by starvation that the drones die, however, for they are
massacred by the bees. Some time about August, perhaps, when the bees
find that the honey is not coming in as fast as it used to, the step
will be taken, for they have now to think about the winter months which
are close at hand. If there are any drone cells in the hive with eggs
or grubs in them, the workers tear them open, the young drones are
dragged out, and their bodies thrown out of the door of the hive.
Although the other drones may see these proceedings they take no heed
of them, but continue to live their lazy life, and to eat their fill
of honey. But in a few days the signal for the massacre is given, and
the workers commence to put them to death. Throughout the hive may
be seen the workers chasing the drones over the combs which, but a
few days before, supplied them with honey. The drones have no sting,
nor any means of defence, so that they are absolutely at the mercy of
their pursuers. The bee-city is alive with the terrible cries of the
victims, and as the workers catch the drones they commence to bite off
their wings. Sometimes, too, they will even gnaw off the legs or the
antennæ or cut through the drone’s slender waist, their one idea being
to disable him. Some of the drones perhaps are able to escape from the
hive, and may seek refuge in flight, but after a few hours they are
back again. They cannot live without food, and as they have never done
any work, they do not know how to gather it. When they return, the
guard at the gate, which is always doubled at this time, savagely fall
upon and kill them. Some do not return to the hive, but these speedily
perish of cold when the night air comes on. The bees never sting the
drones in the struggle, for the sting, being barbed, would soon be
pulled out by the roots were it once inserted in the drone’s body. The
bodies of those that have been killed are carried out of the hive by
the undertakers, and a busy time they have, as you may imagine.

[Illustration: PLATE XXX

  Half-an-hour after Plate XXIX]




CHAPTER XXXVI

HONEY


In the old days the people did not know where honey came from. Pliny,
the great Roman writer, says that it came from the air, and that the
stars helped to make it. He tells us, too, that it was much better at
the time of the rising of the bright star Sirius, and goes on to say
what a pity it is that it is mixed with “the juices of the flowers,”
for, little suspecting that they are really the nectar itself, he
actually thought they spoilt its essence! Others supposed that honey
gathered whilst Jupiter and Venus were in the sky with Sirius was able
to effect miracles, such as curing diseases and actually restoring the
dead to life! How curious and interesting are these old beliefs, and
yet how silly they seem to us. We know that honey is really “juices
of the flowers,” which have undergone a wonderful change in the bees’
stomachs; and that, although it is very pleasant to the taste, it is
not able to restore the dead to life, or to work any other miracles of
a like nature!

There are many different qualities of honey, each depending on the
flowers from which the nectar is gathered. There is, for instance, the
beautiful almond-flavoured honey from the apple blossom or the dark and
strong heather honey. But the honey which is perhaps the most common
and beautiful is that from clover. The white clover blooms for about
three weeks and then indeed are the bees busy. Red clover is of little
use, the florets being too long for the bees to reach the nectar. It
is true that this might be obtained by the bee biting through the base
of each one, but when red clover is in bloom the white is also to be
had, and so of the two the bees naturally prefer the white, where
their tongues can easily gather up the tiny drops of fluid. Later on,
perhaps, when the white clover is done, there will be a second crop of
red, and the bees are then glad to visit it, for the florets of the
second crop are shorter than those of the first. Clover honey is light
amber colour, and as clear as crystal. A bee-keeper can tell by the
taste of any honey from what flowers it has come, and perhaps, too,
from which part of the country.

After the bees have filled up their combs with honey, the bee-keeper
puts some smaller frames in the second chamber of the hive. These are
called sections, and as a rule they measure 4-1/4 in. × 4-1/4 in.
If honey is still plentiful the bees will then build combs in these
sections, and fill them with it, and so when this has been done the
bee-keeper may take away the sections, and it is in this manner that
honey is taken from the bees.

Each section contains about 1 lb. of honey, and you may often see them
for sale, at about one shilling each. Some people prefer honey when it
has been extracted from the sections and put into glass jars; myself,
I think it is far nicer to eat it from the comb. An average hive will
give about 30 or 40 lbs. of honey a season, but you can easily
imagine that a great deal depends upon the weather. The situation of
the hive counts, too, for hives in the south of England give more honey
than do those farther north. This is because the flowers in that part
are much finer and yield more nectar, and also because the climate is
warmer.

[Illustration: PLATE XXXI

  Bees on White Clover]




CHAPTER XXXVII

MODERN BEE-KEEPING


We have already seen that straw hives were formerly used to keep bees
in. They had many disadvantages, and perhaps the greatest was that
sections could not be put on to collect the extra honey. The only
way in which it could be obtained was to kill the bees and to take
the honey they had stored for themselves. The bees were generally
suffocated by the fumes of burning sulphur, and so you will see that
besides being inconvenient this method of bee-keeping was also very
cruel. The hives with the greatest number of bees were the healthiest,
and they were selected for treatment in this manner, for they had
more honey stored away than the weaker ones. In this way all the best
bees were killed off, and those that we have at the present time are
descended from poor ancestors. It will be many years before they have
been brought back to their former state of excellence.

After the bees had been suffocated, the old bee-keepers took out the
combs. These were not built in frames as are those of the present day,
but were just made inside the skep in any way the bees liked. The honey
was then extracted from them, but it was of very poor quality, for
pieces of broken comb, pollen, and even dead grubs, or parts of the
bees themselves, were mixed up with it. How different this is from the
beautifully clear honey obtained by the modern methods.

[Illustration: PLATE XXXII

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Sealing over the Honey Cells]

After the cells have been filled with honey the bees leave them
uncovered for a little time, so that the water in the honey may
evaporate. The honey then ripens, and the chemist bees place a tiny
drop of formic acid in each cell. When all is ready, the cells are
sealed over, and in Plate XXXII. we may see the bees at work doing
this. You will be interested to know that the English bees do not quite
fill the cells, and so the colour of the honey does not show. Foreign
bees, however, fill the cells quite to the brim, which gives the comb a
dark and dirty appearance.

Nowadays the straw skeps are very seldom seen, for their place is taken
by the wooden hives we have already considered. The frames containing
the combs are all of the same size, so that they may be transferred
from one hive to another. For instance, should a certain hive have
collected a large quantity of honey for winter use, and another hive
not have sufficient, the bee-keeper may take one or two frames of this
honeycomb from the rich hive and put it into the poor one, and in this
way both lots of bees will live throughout the winter. In many other
ways the frame hives are useful, besides being much more healthy. The
bees need not be killed in order to get the honey, as was necessary
with the skeps, for a puff or two of smoke is all that is required, and
while they are frightened we may remove the sections.

You will understand that the sooner the queen sees pollen coming into
the hive in the early spring, the sooner will she commence laying
eggs. The sooner the eggs are laid, the more bees will there be ready
for the summer flowers. So the bee-keeper sprinkles pea-flour in a box
of shavings near the hive in the early days of spring. The bees soon
find the flour, and, thinking it is pollen, they commence to carry it
into the hive. When the queen sees it coming in she is deceived, and
thinks summer is at hand; so she commences to lay eggs. This gives the
hive a start, so that when spring really comes, there are large numbers
of bees ready to gather honey from the early flowers.

We have already mentioned that a great quantity of honey has to be
consumed before wax can be made, and this is a serious loss to the
bee-keeper, for it not only reduces the stores, but also wastes
valuable time as well. So the bees are now provided with a thin sheet
of wax, a piece of which hangs downward in each frame. On it is stamped
the exact design of the cells, so that not only is material provided
for the bees, but the architects are saved the trouble of having to map
out where each cell shall be. A piece of this “foundation,” as it is
called, is shown in Plate XXXIII. The bees readily take to it, and as
soon as the work of building is to commence they knead the wax and draw
it out from the foundation, until it is a complete cell. In this way a
great deal of time is saved.

[Illustration: PLATE XXXIII

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Foundation, showing the Pattern for Cells]




CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE BEES’ ENEMIES


Bees have many enemies, apart from robber bees, who try to steal their
honey. In winter-time, when pressed by hunger, certain birds come to a
bee-hive and commence tapping on the alighting-board. Of course some
of the bees come to the door to see what is the matter, and no sooner
do they appear on the threshold than the sharp little birds grab them
in their beaks, and so make a meal. Birds often catch the bees as they
are gathering nectar in the fields, and no one knows how many perish in
this way.

Then there is the death’s-head moth, as it is called. You no doubt know
that this is an insect which bears on its back markings like a skull,
and hence its name. It sometimes enters a hive and makes a chirping
noise. It is supposed that this fascinates the bees, and the moth is
therefore able to take whatever it wants in the way of food.

Bees have fleas too, and though they are not very formidable enemies,
they are a nuisance. A picture of one of these tiny mites is found in
Plate XXXIV.

The worst enemies of the bees are diseases, of which there are several
kinds. The most dreaded are dysentery and what is called the “Isle of
Wight” disease. Many of our soldiers died of dysentery in the South
African War, caused through their drinking bad water, and it is the
same kind of illness which attacks the bees. The Isle of Wight disease
is as peculiar as it is mysterious. It resembles the dreaded sleeping
sickness from which natives of Africa suffer, and of which we have
heard so much these last few years. The bees seem to lose all power of
flying, and in a few days whole hives may die. It is called the Isle of
Wight disease because it first appeared in that island a few years ago.

[Illustration: PLATE XXXIV

  From a photo-micrograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Parasite of Bee]




CHAPTER XXXIX

POWERS OF COMMUNICATION


Bees have not, so far as we can tell, any system of language such as
we have, but it is quite certain that they are able to communicate
with one another. Not only can they communicate simple facts, but
they actually can, in their way, talk or tell each other things. How
this is accomplished without any voice we are not able to say, but it
is certain that in this connection the wondrous antennæ play a most
important part. If you watch bees on the board in front of the hive,
you will see them sometimes march up to one another and gently cross
the antennæ, as two duellists cross their swords before a fight. For a
fraction of a second one seems to lightly tap the antennæ of the other,
and it is evident that some communication is passing between them. It
may be some important piece of news, or perhaps it is just some hive
gossip, of interest to both the little insects. Who can tell?

An experiment which I have often tried with bees, to show that there
is the power of communication, is to put a few drops of honey on a
saucer, which must then be placed at some distance from the hive, or
there would soon be a crowd of bees round it. Next, a bee is entrapped
and placed on the honey. She will commence to sip it up, and as soon as
she has taken as much as she can carry will fly to the hive. When next
she comes back for honey she will probably be accompanied by a friend;
on the third or fourth visit, if the honey still lasts, several more
bees will also visit it, and all will be busy carrying it to the hive.
I should tell you, however, that it does not always happen that the
first bee will bring friends. I have tried the experiment many times,
and have come to the conclusion that there is no doubt the first bee
does often tell other bees of her find, and that they come to help her
to gather in the treasure. In this regard a still further experiment
may be of interest. Many of you no doubt have seen that beautiful fairy
play called _The Blue Bird_. This was written by an author called
Maurice Maeterlinck, who has also written a very interesting book, _The
Life of the Bee_. Mr. Maeterlinck has suggested for this experiment
that honey should be placed on a plate or saucer some distance from the
hive, as in the other case. Then a bee should be put to the honey and
allowed to take in a supply. While she is feeding she will be so deeply
interested that we are easily able to mark her by painting a tiny spot
of colour upon her back. Now away flies the bee to the hive, and hands
over the honey to the house bees. She will then leave the hive and fly
back to the plate for more honey. She must be trapped as she leaves
the hive, and kept in a little box. Now if bees have the power of
communicating, we might expect that the marked bee would have told some
of the other workers of her find. So far so good, but what we wish to
know from this experiment is whether or not the marked bee was able to
tell the other bees where to find the honey, or whether she only said
to them, “I know where there is some honey. Follow me, and I will show
you.” Now if the latter was the case, when we trapped the marked bee,
the others would not be able to find the honey, because they could not
follow her. But, on the other hand, if the marked bee had told her
friends how to find the honey, and had described to them exactly where
it was, it would not matter to these other bees whether she was with
them or not. Mr. Maeterlinck’s result of this ingenious experiment left
the question almost as undecided as before. He tried it twenty times,
but only one strange bee found the honey, which was placed in his study
in the house. He asks, “Was this mere chance, or had she followed
instructions received?” I have tried the same experiment a large
number of times, for it interests me very much. I am bound to say that
there appears to be some ground for believing that the marked bees do
actually give instructions to the others, for in my case the honey was
placed in a spot which was quite out of the way of the voyages of the
bees, and yet on several occasions friends of the marked bees found it;
and though the honey might be left in exactly the same position for a
week or more before the experiment was tried, yet not a single bee ever
came to it.




CHAPTER XL

BEE FLOWERS


Until quite recent times it was not thought that the bees’ visits to
flowers were for any other purpose than to gather food for themselves.
It is now known, however, that their visits are really necessary to
the flowers, and it is thought that flowers secrete nectar to attract
them. Some kinds of flowers contain more nectar than others, and it is
not always the largest which have the most. Small flowers are quite as
interesting to study, if not more so, than large ones, and there is a
great deal yet to be learned about even the tiniest flower. A primrose
or a snowdrop possesses wonders which even the greatest scientists of
the day cannot completely fathom. Lord Tennyson knew this when he wrote
these beautiful lines:--

  “Flower in the crannied wall,
  I pluck you out of the crannies;
  Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
  Little flower; but if I could understand
  What you are, root and all, and all in all,
  I should know what God and man is.”

[Illustration: PLATE XXXV

  Delphinium]

Nature has so arranged things that all plants do not flower at the same
time. Not only does this give us flowers nearly all the year round,
but it allows the bees to work many months to gather in the stores for
winter. Have you noticed that as soon as one kind of flower is over its
place is taken by something else? Even though this arrangement does
exist, it would be of but little value to the bees, unless the flowers
were “honey” flowers--that is to say, the sort which secrete good
supplies of nectar. Yet the bee-keeper knows that besides the ordinary
flowers, those kinds which are useful to bees also follow one another
from early spring to late autumn. There is thus a sort of calendar of
honey flowers all the year round.

The bees will wake from their winter sleep as soon as the fine days of
spring come, and it is then that the crocus is in flower. This flower
is rich in pollen, which the bees commence to carry into the hive.
In March there will be the daffodil and several other wild flowers,
among which we may mention the dandelion and colts-foot. In April the
blackthorn and palm will appear, whilst in May there will be a large
number of wild flowers ready, including the broom, hawthorn, and
foxglove. But June is the great bee month, for the fruit trees in the
orchards are covered with blossom, and the clover makes the fields
look white. Down in the south of England, too, there is the sainfoin,
a flower which gives a large amount of nectar. In July the heather
attracts those bees who are near the moors, while bramble flowers cover
the hedges. In August there is still the heather, but the flowers begin
to go, and the bees feel that winter is drawing near, and it is now
that they make preparations for their long sleep. The last flower of
the year is generally the ivy, which may be seen about October. This
flower gives a little nectar, but, as the days are now cold and wet,
the bees seldom leave the hives to gather it.

These are but a few of the best-known flowers, for there are hundreds
of other kinds, and it would be interesting for you to make a calendar
of your own. The two flowers from which the most nectar is obtained,
are the white clover and the heather. Some flowers are of no use to
the bee, although they store large quantities of nectar, for it is so
placed that the bee cannot get to it, such as the red clover.

We have seen that bees can distinguish between colours, and it is even
supposed that they have favourite colours, and that they prefer blue
to any other. If you are able to watch a flower called delphinium,
or larkspur (Plate XXXV.), which is light blue, and grows in parks
and gardens, you will be surprised to notice what a number of bees it
attracts, even though there may be many other kinds of flowers around.

[Illustration: PLATE XXXVI

  From a photograph by]      [E. Hawks

  Sectional View of Daffodil]




CHAPTER XLI

POLLEN


Whilst it is true that plants cannot speak or walk about, yet they
live a separate life of their own. They breathe and sleep, feed and
digest just as animals do, but in a different manner. In order that
we may understand more about this and the use that bees are to them,
we must first learn a little about the construction of the flowers
themselves. Let us choose a daffodil about which to speak, for it is
both interesting and easily obtainable.

You will know that it is made up of “flower leaves,” and that there is
no calyx like that of a primrose, for instance. The corolla is a deep
yellow tube, and to it the flower leaves are joined. If now we cut the
flower in half, we find that there is a long rod, called the style,
at the end of which is a kind of sticky knob, called the stigma; this
you will see on Plate XXXVI. There are six smaller rods grouped round
the style, and these are called the stamens. They are thickened at the
end near the stigma, and the thickenings are called the anthers. The
anthers are the pollen-bearing parts of the flower, and though their
position often varies, you will find both anthers and stigma in nearly
every kind of flower. Below the corolla of the daffodil is the ovary,
and this is where the seeds are formed. If we look in the ovary of
our daffodil, we shall see several tiny round objects of a transparent
nature. These are called the ovules, and in time they may become seeds.
There is a remarkable difference between an ovule and a seed, for if
we planted one of the former, it would simply wither and decay in the
ground. If, however, we set a seed, sooner or later a plant, like that
from which the seed was taken, will spring up.

An ovule only becomes a seed after it has been fertilised, and this
is accomplished by some pollen being placed on the stigma. The style
is a kind of tube, and is connected with the ovary, and when grains
of pollen fall on the stigma they send out long shoots, called pollen
tubes. These pollen tubes grow down the style till they reach the
ovary. Each pollen tube then finds an ovule, forces its way in,
and pours in nutrition from the pollen grain on the stigma above.
The ovules then undergo certain important changes, and are turned
into seeds. Pollen grains are of all sizes and shapes, but they are
generally very tiny indeed. When I tell you that hundreds of grains
of the kind would take up no more room than a pin-head, you will
understand how very minute and wonderful are these tiny pollen tubes.

The change in the ovules, which we have just read about, is called
fertilisation, and we know that this is necessary to a plant if its
ovules are to be changed into seeds. We might imagine that there is
no difficulty about this in the cases of flowers where there are both
anthers and stigma, but it is a law of Nature that it is not desirable
for flowers to be fertilised by their own pollen. Why this should be
we do not know, but it certainly is an actual fact. By this I do not
mean to say that flowers cannot be fertilised by their own pollen, but
that they produce healthier and more numerous seeds when fertilised by
pollen from another plant. Pollen from another flower of the same plant
will not do, but it should be from another plant altogether. Of course
the two plants must be of the same kind, for it would not do to expect
the pollen of a sweet-pea to fertilise a wallflower.

Some flowers will not be fertilised at all by pollen from their own
plant, and one of these is clover. Mr. Darwin, a scientist who has
taught us a great deal about this subject, tried an experiment in which
he fertilised twenty heads of clover by the pollen of other clover
plants. They produced no less than 2290 seeds, but when another twenty
heads of clover were kept from being fertilised by any but their own
pollen, not a single seed was produced.

No doubt you will be wondering why a flower is not fertilised when
anthers covered with pollen surround the stigma. The explanation is
very simple, for the stigma has to become ripe before it can receive
any pollen. In some plants the stigma is ripe before the anthers give
off pollen, whilst in others all the pollen is given from off the
anthers before the stigma becomes ripe. Thus we see how Nature prevents
a flower from fertilising itself.




CHAPTER XLII

BEES AND FLOWERS


From what you have read in the previous chapter you will see that for a
flower to be fertilised the pollen must come from another plant. How,
then, is this effected, for plants cannot walk to one another and ask
for each other’s pollen? There are two ways in which Nature’s law can
be fulfilled. The first is by the wind, for the pollen of some flowers,
such as the willow-catkin, may be blown on to the stigmas of other
catkins, and thus fertilise them. The stigmas of such plants are made
branched and hairy, so as to allow of their more easily catching the
flying pollen as it passes.

You will easily understand that it would not do for all plants to be
wind-fertilised, for the chances of pollen grains alighting on stigmas
would be very remote if that were the case. By far the greater number
of plants, therefore, are fertilised in the second manner, which is
by insects. The bees are the most useful of all, and we now see what
service they render to plants, for when a little worker dips into a
flower in search of nectar, her body becomes covered with pollen.
It may be that the next flower she comes to is one in which the
stigma is ripe, so that the bee, as she pushes her way in, rubs her
pollen-covered body against it, and thus the flower is fertilised by
pollen from another plant. When a bee is nectar-gathering, you will
notice that she always keeps to one kind of plant on each journey, just
as the pollen gatherers do. This arrangement fits in with Nature’s
plan, for it is thus that pollen of the sweet-pea is carried to another
sweet-pea, and not to a wallflower, and so with each kind of plant.

Many people think that the beautiful colours and scents of flowers
exist only to delight man, but this is quite a wrong idea. For
instance, just think of the gorgeous flowers which must grow and die in
places where no human eye ever sees them. The real state of affairs is
that man uses the flowers which already exist, and even if all men were
to die, flowers would still continue to blossom.

The more we study flowers, the more clearly does it become evident
that their rich colours, beautiful perfumes, and sweet nectar are
really baits to entice insects to visit them. More than this, even the
very marks in certain flowers point to where the insect will find the
nectar, just as signposts on country roads direct us to the place we
wish to find. Have you noticed that flowers which have gaudy colours,
like the tulip, foxglove, or hollyhock, often have no smell, whilst
insignificant flowers, as the mignonette, privet, or forget-me-not,
give off beautiful scents? The first kind attract insects by their
colour, but the second by their fragrance. Certain flowers have their
nectaries at the base of the corolla, as the geranium; others have tiny
little glands, or bags, on their petals, like the buttercup.

You will know that flowers open and close at different hours--in fact
it is almost possible to tell the time by watching them. The little
daisy is so called, for it is the “day’s eye,” and it closes at
sunset; but the evening primrose is only just waking when the daisy
is going to sleep. Who does not know that honeysuckle gives off its
sweet fragrance in the evening-time? The reason for these facts is
this. The daisy is open during the daytime, because it is visited and
fertilised by insects who come only during the hours of daylight. The
evening primrose is fertilised by moths which fly in the twilight and
evening, and so it has no need to be awake by day. We can easily see,
too, that the tube-like flower of the honeysuckle is far too long for
the tongue of the little bee to reach its nectar, and the corolla is
so narrow that she cannot creep down it. So the honeysuckle relies for
fertilisation on moths, who have far longer tongues than bees, and it
emits the lovely smell at evening-time to attract them.

[Illustration: PLATE XXXVII

  Nasturtiums]




CHAPTER XLIII

HOW FLOWERS PROTECT THEIR NECTAR


A whole volume could be written on the marvellous contrivances of
flowers, but we must be content to describe a few. It is a wonderful
subject, and one which you yourselves will be able to study quite
easily.

Have you ever wondered why cup-shaped flowers--the harebell, the
snowdrop, and many others--droop their heads? It is because they would
become filled with rain or dew if they did not do so, and thus their
nectar would be spoiled, and insects would no longer visit them. For
the same reason daisies will close their petals when dark clouds come
up, and will remain closed until the sun shines again. Have you ever
seen a flower of the white dead nettle? It actually protects its
nectaries with one of its petals, which overhangs the others, and acts
like a little umbrella.

The ordinary nasturtiums (Plate XXXVII.) have the edge of the three
lower petals cut into fine strips. These keep the rain from the nectar,
which is situated at the end of the long spur. You will notice that
hive bees are not often seen on nasturtiums, for their tongues are
not long enough to reach the nectar; so these flowers depend more
on humble-bees for fertilisation. The nasturtium is a flower which
illustrates very well what was said about “honey-guides” just now, for
all the lines on the petals point to where the nectar is to be found.

Some flowers have to protect their honey from certain insects, who
wish to take it without fertilising the flower in return. Ants, for
instance, are very fond of honey; and, as you can easily imagine, they
are so small that they can creep right down to the nectaries without
dusting themselves with pollen, or fertilising the flower. So certain
flowers--like the primrose--have their stalks covered with multitudes
of tiny hairs. These serve as a barricade to the ant, and prevent it
from climbing to the flower above. The cross-leaved heather has its
stalk and calyx covered with sticky hairs, so that not only are the
little thieves prevented from getting to the flower, but they are
actually held prisoners as well.




CHAPTER XLIV

HOW FLOWERS ARE FERTILISED


We have now seen something of the contrivances of flowers to aid
in their fertilisation, and in this chapter we shall consider
the ingenious arrangement some flowers possess to assist their
fertilisation.

[Illustration: (_a_)]

[Illustration: (_b_)]

Let us first look at the primrose. Have you ever noticed that there are
two kinds of primrose flowers? From the outside perhaps they look very
similar, but if you look closely, or better still, cut them open, you
will find where they differ. Let us look at these sketches and we shall
see that the one kind (_a_) has a long style, which reaches nearly
to the top of the corolla. The other kind (_b_) has quite a short
style, so that instead of the stigma, or knob, being at the top of the
corolla, it is really half-way down. We notice, too, that the anthers,
or pollen bags, in the first kind (_a_) are placed half-way down the
corolla, and in the other flower (_b_) they are at the top. We might
think that Nature had made some mistake here, for it seems that if the
pollen bags belonging to flower (_a_) were placed in flower (_b_), or
_vice versa_, things would be more natural.

Let us suppose that a bee visits flower (_a_) and dips her tongue
down the corolla to collect the nectar. Half-way down the flower the
tongue has to pass the pollen bags, and in doing so gets dusted over
with pollen grains. The bee, having collected the nectar, flies to
another plant, which we will suppose bears flowers of the other kind.
She dips down her tongue, which touches the stigma just at the place
where it had been covered with pollen by the first flower. By this
means, therefore, the flower (_b_) is fertilised. But, you will ask,
what about flower (_a_)? While the fertilisation of flower (_b_) has
been going on, the pollen bags of (_b_) at the top of the corolla have
dusted the root of the bee’s tongue, so that when she goes to a flower
of the (_a_) type, the pollen dust at the root of her tongue touches
the stigma, and the flower is thus fertilised.

What a wonderful arrangement this is, for you will see that it is
almost impossible for the flowers of one primrose plant to fertilise
each other; the pollen must come from the flowers of a different plant.

Some flowers, if not fertilised by insects, have the power to fertilise
themselves, and to this class belongs the sweet-pea (Plate XXXVIII.).
This flower belongs to the _papilionaceous_ (butterfly) tribe, and when
a bee alights on the flower its weight presses down the underpart.
While the bee is taking the nectar, the pollen bags rise and touch her
on the underside of the thorax. Then she goes on to another flower
whose stigma is ripe. This time the stigma rises and touches the same
part of the bee’s body, and in this manner the flower is fertilised.

[Illustration: PLATE XXXVIII

  Sweet Pea]

Some plants have wonderful arrangements for transferring their pollen
to other flowers, some of which are so peculiar and clever that we
might think they had been designed by some crafty scientist. One of
these is called the salvia, and it belongs to the same family as the
dead nettle. The anthers are mounted like a see-saw, and when the bee
makes its way into the flower it pushes one end of the see-saw up. This
causes the other end, on which the pollen bags are situated, to come
down thump on to the bee’s back. The pollen is thus scattered there,
and the bee also receives what may be called a pat on the back! As the
salvia flower grows old its pollen bags shrivel up, but at this time
the stigma is ripe. It grows longer and longer, and bends over till it
is like a letter J turned upside down: [Illustration: upside down J]
After a bee has visited some young flowers and had her back dusted with
pollen, she will, without doubt, visit some of the older ones too, and
it is quite easy to understand that when she enters these she rubs her
back against the overhanging stigma, and the pollen adheres to it.

Another interesting plant is the violet, the nectar of which is stored
at the end of the long spur, which you will have noticed. The pollen
bags fit closely round the stigma, and so when pollen drops from them
it does not fall out of the flower, for its passage is blocked by the
tight-fitting pollen bags. When the bee comes, she has to push her
tongue right up the spur, and in doing this she forces it past the
pollen bags. This causes the pollen to fall out on to her head, and so
it is carried to the next flower.




CHAPTER XLV

CONCLUSION


Although very much more could be written on this interesting subject,
yet there is a limit to all things, and we come now to the end of this
little book.

If you did not know or care much about bees when you began Chapter I.,
I hope that what you have read will help you to understand something
about these wonderful insects. The study of parts of their bodies, or
Anatomy, as it is called, teaches us a great deal, and helps us to
understand all the more clearly how they perform the duties of the
hive, and how they collect their food.

Although the wonders of the hive, the combs, their building and design,
the different workers and their duties, are marvellous, yet the ways
of the bees themselves are far more wonderful, and we cannot fully
understand them. It is not known at the present time whether the bees
are able to think and reason, or whether they simply do these things by
instinct. This alone is a great subject, and one on which there have
been endless discussions among the cleverest scientists in the world,
and yet we get no nearer the truth.

If you are not able to study the habits of the bees in the hive, there
is nothing to prevent you from watching them when they are at work in
the garden or hedgerow. It is always very pleasant to hear the happy
song of the foragers on a summer afternoon as they flit from flower to
flower on their task.

The study of flowers, or Botany, is most interesting, especially when
considered in relation to insects. It was not till comparatively recent
years that it was found they were connected; but one day a young German
botanist, called Sprengel, happened to notice some tiny hairs growing
in the centre of a wood-geranium. He determined to find out what
purpose these hairs served, and ultimately proved that they protected
the nectar of the little flower from the rain. From this apparently
trivial discovery it was found that most plants were fertilised by
insects. It seems almost as though Nature had intended flowers and
insects to fit in with each other, and it is very wonderful to think
of this when we remember that they belong to two different kingdoms. A
great deal has yet to be learned about bees and flowers, for there are
all sorts of curious devices in flowers which we do not yet understand.
It is important to remember that the bees do not know that they are
fertilising the flowers, for they only think of collecting nectar, and
carry the pollen from one plant to another quite accidentally.

Always remember that a bee will not sting you unless it is annoyed, or
unless you hurt it. If it does sting you for this reason, do not kill
it, for it is only doing what it has a right to do, although it may be
a painful right! I knew some boys who used to spend Saturday afternoons
seeing who could kill the most bees. One day they ran to me and told me
that they had actually killed 172 bees between them. Of course I told
them how cruel I thought they were, but they had never thought of it in
this way, and after I had shown them one of my hives and explained a
few of the wonders of the bee-city, they said how sorry they were, and
you may be sure they have never killed a bee since.


THE END

  Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. Edinburgh & London




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

  Although Plate IV is referenced in the text, no Plate IV appears
    in the original.