Part 1
BEE-KEEPING.
BY
"THE TIMES" BEE-MASTER.
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BEE-KEEPING.
BY
"THE TIMES" BEE-MASTER.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, SON, & MARSTON.
14, LUDGATE HILL.
1864.
[_The right of translation is reserved._]
LONDON:
PRINTED BY EDMUND EVANS,
RAQUET COURT, FLEET STREET.
PREFACE
My apology for writing a Bee-Book is as follows:--I sent _The Times_ an account of a very successful honey harvest about the end of July, containing some observations on the treatment of bees, and the profits that might accrue to the cottager were he to take the right and humane way of taking honey from his hives. This communication appears to have interested many, for in consequence of it, persons desirous of information wrote to the Editor of _The Times_, requesting in confidence the name of the Bee-master, in order that they might correspond with him. The Editor declined to give it up without my consent, which I felt it expedient to withhold. But to satisfy those who took so warm an interest in the subject, I addressed a series of letters to _The Times_, explanatory of some of the simplest elements of apiculture. These excited so great interest, that I received multitudes of letters addressed to "_The Times_ Bee-master," which it was physically impossible to answer. But most of my correspondents complained of the obscurity and complexity of bee-books in general, and earnestly begged me to prepare a work they could understand and translate into practice. I have attempted to do so, strengthening my own observations by valuable extracts from the works of others. I am not, however, insensible to the great value, wide research, and real usefulness of the works I have carefully and long read. The first and most useful, as well as most beautiful modern work on bees, is "My Bee-Book," by the Rev. William Charles Cotton, M.A., student of Christ Church, Oxon. It is profusely illustrated, and is the most genial and instructive work on bees it has been my lot to read. I have felt so great an interest in this good clergyman, that it often occurred to me to try to ascertain where he was and what he was doing. My own communications to _The Times_, among many interesting letters, brought me one signed "An Australian," which, though long, contains amid much interesting matter some notice of the author of "My Bee-Book." The reader will not, I am sure, complain of its length.
Sir,--It may be interesting to you, whose letters in _The Times_ have so delighted me, to hear that my experience in _Australia_ of the habits, instincts, and affections (if I may so apply the word) of your little favourites is identical with your own. From early childhood I shared my father's interest in his pets; and at one time I could have counted upwards of ninety hives in the two apiaries which he kept for his own amusement, and for the encouragement of those who were willing to keep bees. Everyone was welcome to a swarm who cared to ask for one. I may give some curious facts as to the sagacity and gratitude of these insects. During the prevalence of the hot winds, it sometimes happens that the delicate comb melts, and the first indication is a stream of melted honey and smothering bees. I have been called to the rescue, and have taken up honey and bees in my hands, placed them in a basin of tepid water, and spread my fingers as landing-stages until all capable of restoration have plumed their wings and buzzed gratefully away, and so on until order and comfort was restored to the disturbed hive. I _never_ was stung on any occasion whilst working amongst the bees, and only twice that I remember, and then by meeting an angry bee accidentally in the garden. The buzz of an angry bee is quite well known to their lovers. On one occasion a swarm met my sister, and actually began to settle on her hand and arm. She knew their ways, and walked very slowly on (of course surrounded by bees) until she found what she considered a comfortable bough, under which she held her hand. The queen adopted the suggestion, and after a few minutes' patiently standing amidst the confusion, she quietly retired, and, as you _will_ believe, unharmed.
Of course we could not house all our swarms, so they went off to the woods and found habitations in gum-trees hollowed out by the action of fires through the bush. I recollect one swarm, however, belonging to a neighbour, which preferred its old quarters, and actually built the combs and filled them with honey _suspended_ from beneath the shelf upon which the hives were ranged in the open air. Its ultimate fate I do not remember.
Bees have many enemies in Australia; the greatest is probably the sugar-ant. To protect them from these intruders, we had the hives ranged on shelves, the supports of which stood in wide vessels of water, alike a protection against other foes. The apiaries were built open in front and ends, against a wall, with thatched roof and overhanging eaves; and there was a space between the shelf on which the hives stood and the wall, where one could sit or stand and watch them; for most of our hives were square, made of wood, with glass sides and wooden shutters; and the bees were so accustomed to be looked at, that they kept their side of the glass quite clean, and generally built a smooth surface of comb next the glass, leaving space to move between the comb and the glass; and I have often seen the queen, surrounded by her admiring subjects (exactly as you describe) making her progress across the comb, each attendant bee with its head next her majesty, fanning with its wings, and one could hear a _purr_ of satisfaction.
The antipathies of the bee are very curious. I have known one individual who was chased perpetually round the garden, and I have seen him obliged to rush through a hedge to escape his little tormentors. Their feuds were sometimes most violent, and I have had to remove a hive from one apiary to the other, a distance of half a mile, to preserve the bees. Your plan of the super-hives is excellent. Most of our hives were square, and all of wood. The straw hives proved a harbour for insects, and deprived us of the pleasure of watching the bees at work. We used large confectioners' glasses as supers, turned upside down. They were speedily filled, and we could ensure honey flavoured with the different blossoms, by placing the glass during the season of the orange-blossom, or heliotrope, &c., &c.
Our chief guide in the management was a book written by the Rev. Mr. Cotton, called "My Bee-Book;" and it may be interesting to mention, that when in after years that gentleman accompanied the Bishop of New Zealand to that country, via Australia, he was my father's guest. Mr. Cotton's delight at finding his favourites so appreciated was only equalled by our pleasure in meeting the author of "My Bee-Book;" but, sad to say, _our_ bees conceived a dislike to their visitor; and upon his exhibiting his fearlessness in handling bees, he was stung (much to the amusement of some _small_ bystanders) by two wicked bees. A relation of my own kept her bees in the verandah of her drawing-room; and she has frequently cut out of the hive a large piece of comb, taking care not to break it, and merely cutting through the little connecting links of wax which support the layers of comb; and this she could do with impunity from the super of a busy hive, simply because she lived amongst her bees. Hoping that this letter may not have wearied you,
I remain yours faithfully,
An Australian.
_London, 12th August, 1864._
P.S. I have never had an opportunity of keeping bees in England. I shall look for your promised manual, as I hope some day I may be able to have some of my favourites to care for. I may add, my father procured our original stock from Tasmania, in the common straw hive, a bit of pierced tin fastened over the entrance. One system I do not see alluded to, which we found answer very well, when we wished, for any cause, to take the old comb and start the bees afresh. We used in the early dawn to place the full hive over an empty one, covering all with a large cloth, and then beat the top hive steadily, not roughly, with a stick. Very soon the queen would take refuge in the lower box, when a board was slipped between, and the upper old hive removed. The bees (the few that loitered behind the queen) soon left the honey to join their friends: at night the new hive was carried to the site of the old one, and turned up upon its own board. We always had cross bars of wood on the hives, upon which the swarm at first clung.
Taylor's and Wood's "Manuals of Bee-keeping" are exceedingly good. Richardson's is very full. Lardner's Treatise in the "Museum of Science and Art" well deserves the attention of the reader.
I do not profess to have struck out any original methods of constructing hives or treating bees. To the science of apiculture I have contributed nothing. All I profess to do is to give plain, practical directions for the successful management of bees, chiefly from observation and experience.
I am persuaded there has been much useful and instructive matter in my letters, because I have received a few very ill-natured communications. One of them (not the worst) I insert, as a specimen of the reception my little work is doomed to expect. But perhaps the writers may repent of their intentions, and recover the sweet temper they seem to have lost.
August 15.
Sir,--I have read very attentively the letters in _The Times_ about bees, and am convinced that the American gentleman is _right_, and that much of what _you_ say is mere old woman's twaddle. Your nonsensical rant about loyalty to the queen-bee (in _these_ days, when loyalty to _kings_ and _queens_ is utterly and very properly extinct), and your raving against radical reform (so much wanted in _all_ matters), both give evidence of anility and failing intellect.
I shall act on my conviction by ordering the _American_ book on bees for myself and friends, and I shall use all my literary influence (which is _considerable_) in preventing the circulation of _your_ poor trumpery twopenny-halfpenny bee-papers.
A Non-believer in the "Bee-master" of Tunbridge Wells.
P.S. I am no American, but I sympathise with Messrs. Bright and Cobden. I rejoice at the downfall of the Danish monarchy; and I would not fight, _under any circumstances_, either for king, queen, princes, or peoples--not foreign peoples at least, I look on _loyalty_ as rank humbug. Kings must behave better before we can respect or love them!
In this work I have purposely left out all notice of a variety of hives as ingenious as they are disliked by bees. Some apiarians have expended all their talent in making tortuous entrances, worrying homes, and elegant residences for the queen and her subjects. They seem to estimate their success by the extent of their departure from simplicity. They merge the useful and convenient in the elegant and complex. But the less the bees are plagued by intricate and arduous arrangements in the interior of their residences, the more comfortable and contented they feel, and the more efficiently they work. It is on this account I have written so favourably of the Ayrshire hive. It is simple in structure, and the parallel openings in the roof of the stock hive introductory to the super are far more liked by the bees than a round central hole, while the facility of removing a super in the honey harvest is perfectly charming. The comb in the super is never or rarely connected with the comb in the stock hive, and, therefore, needs no cutting with zinc plates. A screw-driver gently introduced loosens the propolis, or a table-knife may be employed to cut it all round the lower edge of the super, and the proprietor has only to lift it off and carry it away on a deal board.
I can easily see that had I praised several ingenious contrivances for the residence of bees, I should have provoked fewer charges of ignorance of modern apiculture. I repeat, I have read much on the subject; but my recommendations are not the results of theory or imagination, but of practical knowledge and of careful watching.
The best hop-garden is that which grows the most and best hops; the best mill is that which grinds most corn; and the best hives are those in which is deposited the largest amount of the best honey.
By all means let us have observatory hives for scientific investigations; but what the cottager requires is plenty of produce, with the least tax on his toil and pocket. Hence this work is drawn up, not for scientific apiarians, but for all who wish to enjoy a pleasant and profitable employment.
I must tender my best thanks to Messrs. Neighbour, of Regent-street, London, and to Mr. Pettitt, of Snargate, Dover, for their permission to copy such of their woodcuts as I thought it useful to describe or to suggest amendments on.
I may also add, that in using the name, "_The Times_ Bee-master," I avail myself merely of the title given me by the countless correspondents who did me the honour to write me either directly or indirectly through the editor of _The Times_.
In reprinting my letters to _The Times_, I must here notice an alteration I think expedient. I felt it right to reply to a very injudicious and extreme letter which appeared in that paper. I did so playfully, and with kindly feeling. But the correspondent I thus replied to seems to have viewed it as a personal attack. Under the inspiration of very irritated feelings he wrote another letter to the Editor of _The Times_, which was very properly refused admission. But he was kind enough to send it to several papers, in which he published it, prefacing it in one with controversial remarks so far removed from the courtesies of fair correspondence, that it ceased to be possible to hold any further argument with him. I am really very sorry that a gentleman I never saw, and do not yet know whether he is a clergyman or layman, should have so passionately interpreted remarks made by me in perfect good-humour. I offer him every apology that is due for being misunderstood. In order to avoid any such contingency again, I have omitted his name, and have substituted "Your Correspondent."
I may also add, that when I sent my letters to _The Times_ I had not the remotest idea of composing a book on the subject. Having other and absorbing work to attend to, I have been able to devote spare hours only to a very pleasant work, undertaken at the request of many, and dedicated to the service of all.
CONTENTS
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PAGE
Introduction 1
Bee-keeping Money-making 3
Bee-keeping a source of Enjoyment 6
How to begin Bee-keeping 10
The Bee-house, and how to place it 21
Hives and Bee-boxes 35
How to get Bees 59
The Inmates of the Hive 87
Bee Enemies 104
The Bee-master's Letters to "The Times" 116
Bee Things in general 169
Letters from Correspondents 200
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Erratum.--Page 45, line 18--For "inches" _read_ "degrees." [Transcriber's Note: This WAS corrected!]
BEE-KEEPING.
BY
"THE TIMES" BEE-MASTER.
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This work is not a speculative or philosophical treatise on bees. Its main interest consists in its usefulness; and its author's greatest reward will be the greatest measure of his success in promoting among cottagers and others a means of paying their rent, at once interesting, civilising, and remunerative. Next to this, I hope I may contribute toward the extinction of the savage and unprofitable, but almost universal, habit in this country of burning the bees with sulphur in August, in order to collect honey richly flavoured, and much deteriorated by sulphurous acid. It is a fundamental principle in my bee-management, that no bee shall be burned, or, if possible to avoid it, crushed or killed. No man deserves the name of a Bee-master, or should attempt to keep bees, who has not resolved, with all his might, to avoid bee-murder. Bee-cide, like homicide, may accidentally occur, but it must be accidental, not designed and culpable. That system of management which combines the safety and health of the bees, with the production of the largest amount of pure honey available to the proprietor, while providing generously for the inmates of the hive during the winter months, deserves the greatest patronage.
I.-BEE-KEEPING MONEY-MAKING.
We live in a practical age. Proposals of all sorts are too often, right or wrong, weighed against gold:--"How much will it bring? Can I turn a penny by this business?" I do not pretend to say bee-masters are rich men, or that the way to a fortune is through a bee-hive; but I do assert that a poor parish minister, vicar, or curate with a little glebe--a cottager who works all day for the squire--or maiden ladies who desire to engage in very delightful and loving labour--may add to their little income or stipend or dividend from ten to twenty pounds a year. To half-pay officers I would earnestly recommend bee-keeping. It would keep them out of those wild speculations into which, from their inexperience in business matters, they are so frequently and ruinously drawn, by giving them an interest, which would soon become a passion, in studying and conferring with a new family, besides yielding them a few spare sovereigns for personal use or charity. For white cells filled with honey in glasses--than which nothing more elegant or picturesque can be placed on a breakfast-table--one can obtain in June two shillings, and even two shillings and sixpence, a pound. For honey later in the season one and sixpence a pound may be easily had; and where the proprietor prefers to be his own consumer, he may dispense with bacon and butter, and take what is far more wholesome--honey--at breakfast. It is a fair average to calculate on fifteen pounds of surplus produce from each hive, if properly attended to. I do not see why our country should not be a "land flowing with milk and honey," or why we should import so much honey and wax from abroad, exporting good money in return, when so many flowers lift their beautiful blossoms, waiting and longing to be kissed and rifled by visitors they love so well. It should not be forgotten, too, that bees do immense good to flowers; some think they introduce one to another, and celebrate the marriage of the flowers. This, however, is certain: flower-gardens are immensely benefited by bees, and therefore every lover of flowers and proprietor of gardens should never drive away or destroy a bee; for the visitor is not only collecting honey for his bee-master, but adding to the variety, fragrance, and beauty of the flowers of their owner.
II.--BEE-KEEPING A SOURCE OF ENJOYMENT.
When pleasure and profit can be combined, time runs swiftly and the heart feels happy.
It is enjoyment to stand by one's bee-hives and watch the intense and untiring work of one's bees. It is like standing at a window in Cheapside, and watching the counter-currents of human beings that ceaselessly traverse its pavement; only, instead of faces grooved with cares and pale with anxieties, we do not see issuing from their hives or returning home a single bee that seems bowed down with trouble or fretful about the future. Each bee, from the queen down to the sentinel at the gate, seems to have heard the Master's words,--"Take no thought" (_i.e._, irritating care) "for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."
Bees rarely fail to become acquainted with a kind and affectionate master. I have stood in the midst of thousands returning home after their day's work, and seen them resting on me, brushing their wings and bodies, and, thereby refreshed and recruited, they enter their home and deposit their sweet burdens. They do not forget little acts of kindness shown them, and rarely fail to show gratitude,--an example Christians would do well to copy. I have sat for hours by my hives with glass windows, and watched the orderly and beautiful array in which some give wax, others build it into forms of strength and beauty, others clear away incidental dirt, others pour honey into the warehouses, others carry out their dead, and all reverently and loyally attend to the instructions of their queen. Relays of ventilators, joining the tips of their wings and making fanners, take up their position at the doors, and send in currents of fresh air. Others are placed as sentries on the bee-board, who, like faithful soldiers, repel wasps and moths, and die rather than desert the post of duty. There is not an idle bee in a hive, if one may except the drones after their mission is ended. _Fruges consumere nati_; they meet with the consequences which all idle and unproductive citizens provoke. They, however, may be regarded as the exceptional inmates. The bees do not fail to understand their relations, and therefore they get rid of them as soon as they cease to contribute to the wealth or comfort or protection of the hive. They become in June and July the mere hangers-on--the fat, lazy monks, who believe that everybody is made to work for them, while they are excused helping anybody. But the bountiful Creator has left no place for indolence in this world of ours; it would be too disastrous an example to be permitted with impunity. The bees accordingly turn them out to starve, or garrote them as they catch them, and at all risk get rid of the incumbrance. Do idle young men deserve better treatment?
A hive in June is a perfect study, a model of order, work, neatness, and beauty; it is rich in interest to everyone who has an hour to spare. About nine o'clock at night you cannot do better than listen for a quarter of an hour by your hives, and you will hear an oratorio sweeter and richer than you ever heard in Exeter Hall. Treble, tenor, and bass are blended in richest harmony; sometimes it sounds as the distant hum of a great city, and at other times as if the apiarian choristers were attempting the hallelujahs which will swell from earth to heaven when all things are put right, and bee and bird and every living thing sing joyously together the jubilant anthem peal, "Great and marvellous are thy works. Lord God Almighty. Just and true are thy ways, thou King of nations."
III.--HOW TO BEGIN BEE-KEEPING.
Your garden may be very small, and its flowers few and far between; but as your bee-pasture is an area two or three miles round on all sides yours for the use of your bees, though entered in other peoples' title-deeds, your own little plot need not much trouble you. Bees seem to prefer to feed at a little distance from the hive, but have no objection to pasture close at hand. In the beginning of August, when the honey-yielding flowers begin to fail, I have found Broadwater Common, near Tunbridge Wells, which grows the finest heather south of Braemar, covered with my bees, and have lain down amid the heath-blossoms, watching and listening to my young friends, immensely enjoying their work.