OBJECTIONS AGAINST PILING BOXES.

Having gone through the explanation of my different hives, and of all my Bee-machinery, I will, previously to entering upon other matters, here state my objections to the piling of Bee-boxes one upon another, which is sometimes, and not improperly, called—storifying. It is also termed super-hiving, nadir-hiving, or centre-hiving, according to the place occupied by the added box: if an empty box be placed upon a stocked one, it is super-hiving;—if put under such box, it is nadir-hiving;—and if introduced between two boxes, it is centre-hiving. But with whatever term dignified—not to say—mystified, it amounts to, and in effect is—storifying. From an old book in my possession I find—that in 1675 a patent was granted to John Gedde, to secure to him for a term of fourteen years the advantages of his invention of boxes for storifying; so that it is at least of a hundred and sixty years' standing. After Gedde it was successively adopted and encouraged by Rusden, Warder, and Thorley, and has been the fashionable or fancy practice down to the present day; for it is a mode of managing Bees that has been recommended by some modern authors,—principally, if I mistake not, by Dr. Bevan; and it is practised by some Bee-masters, who, I am told, consider it to be the most humane mode, and the only humane mode of managing Honey-Bees. I have no wish to depreciate the inventions and labours of others, nor to offend any man, and particularly that man who has exerted himself so much to better the condition of the Honey-Bee. If he has been mistaken in the means to be employed to gain so desirable an end, and in my humble opinion he certainly has been mistaken, every praise is due to him for his good intentions.

My first objection to the piling system is—because it occasions a great deal of extra trouble, labour, and inconvenience to the Bees, and consequently prevents their collecting so great a quantity of honey and wax as they will do where they are not subjected to these drawbacks. And where, I would fain know, is the humanity in increasing and obstructing the labours of these indefatigable, little insects? Is it not inhumanity to force them to deposit their treasures in a garret, two or three stories high, when a far more convenient store-room may be provided for them on the first floor? Let not, then, the piling advocate of the present day any longer recommend this faulty practice, nor erroneously contend that the elevating of boxes one upon another, is the best and only way of ensuring an abundance of honey and wax. But fairly to get at the merits—not to say—demerits of this practice, I will examine it a little in detail. First, then, the piling practitioner puts a swarm of Bees into a box, which I will call box A. This box, if prosperous, of course soon becomes a pavilion of nature,—that is, it soon contains quantities of brood-comb, young brood, larvÆ, and embryo Bees in various stages of existence. It is allowed to stand alone until it be filled, or nearly filled, with the Bees' works. It requires no great skill to know that the contents of box A. at this period are as just described. When nearly full it is placed upon another box (B.) to prevent what is called the maiden-swarm. This box, like box A. is quickly filled with combs: the Queen too follows her labourers and progressively lays her eggs even to the lowest edges of the combs. Of course box B, like box A. soon contains quantities of brood. The second box (B.) gets full just as the first did, and as a cottage-hive does—not with pure honey, but with brood, pollen or farina, and other substances, as well as with honey; in short, there is no provision for, nor means of, dividing the works of the working Bees from the works of the Queen-Bee; consequently they become, as of necessity they must become—one promiscuous mass. The brood continues to increase and occupies that part of the box which should be of pure honey and wax. This goes on until more room is wanted; and then it is that the two full boxes (A. and B.) are exalted and placed upon the third and last box (C.) This, however, does not mend the matter; but, as will be seen presently, it does occasion a great deal of additional labour and inconvenience to the Bees. In the meantime they carry on their works of nature and of art—they construct new combs and store some of the cells with honey, and the Queen lays her eggs in others, just as in the other boxes. The fact is—the three boxes soon become as one: they soon become and continue to be of one temperature,—the same compound of the old hive,—the brood-cells are intermixed with those containing honey,—wreaths of pollen are: in every pile,—and animated nature is everywhere peeping from the waxen cells, in which nothing but pure honey should have been deposited. But this is not all, nor the worst part; though bad enough, if purity of honey be any consideration.

It is a fact known by me and by every one at all experienced in the management of an apiary, that no sooner are the combs in box CL got into a state of forwardness—it would be saying rather too much to say—completed, than numbers of working Bees are, as it were, struck off their work there, and set about removing all superfluities and nuisances from the combs lately filled with young brood in the uppermost box A. Every cell in those combs that has been the nest and nursery of a young Bee they cleanse thoroughly and repair, where repairs are needed, preparatory to its being made a receptacle for honey, or for the other treasures brought from the field. At this time, that is—as soon as the combs are free from the first brood, the uppermost box is nearly empty, instead of being full: it contains empty combs and Bees, but little or no honey. Here then the Bees are subjected to that extra labour and inconvenience which form my first objection to the piling-plan. From the entrance into box C. through box B. and up into box A. the way, to a loaded Bee, is neither short nor pleasant; it is a labyrinth beset with difficulties and obstructions, in surmounting which much of that time is occupied which would otherwise be more profitably, and we may suppose—far more agreeably employed, in passing from flower to flower, and in culling their various sweets. Any person, it may be presumed, would rather set down a heavy load on the ground-floor than have to tug it up two or three long flights of stairs, and through intricate, winding passages, and be jostled and impeded and pushed about, and perhaps backward every now and then, by countless crowds of busy men, unceasingly hurrying up and down and passing and re-passing the burdened man in every direction. And is it not comparatively the same with Bees going through boxes C. and B. up into box A.? I maintain that it is so,—and that Bees in piled-boxes lose much time in performing the unnecessary, climbing labour, imposed upon them by their unskilful masters.

The natural consequence of this—I repeat—unnecessary waste of their time, must not be placed to the account, or laid to the instinct of the Bees; for of all creatures in the world, Bees perhaps work with the most extraordinary celerity. The beautiful piles of honey, and when unobstructed, the regular movements of these wonderful insects, are admirably scientific and correct. The consequence, namely, a deficiency in the quantity of honey and wax, is chargeable solely to the account of the unskilful manager.

At length the time arrives when the three piled-boxes are, or are supposed to be, well stored,—and when a part of the Bees' treasure is to be taken as a remuneration for the care and trouble of the proprietor. Let him then put on his grotesque Bee-dress, and booted up to the middle and gloved to the very elbows, let him proceed to take the uppermost box. He divides it from that on which it stands, that is—from box B. by a slide or a divider of some sort prepared for such an operation, or in any way he pleases, for that I leave to him. Well, he succeeds in getting off his prize; not, however, without the destruction of a considerable number of Bees: for to presume that he is acquainted with my easy mode of taking away a box, would be to presume too much; I therefore allow him a Bee-dress at once, and have accoutered him in the best way I can for his arduous undertaking. The box, then, is off. He turns it up and examines it, and to his great disappointment, he finds that the combs are discoloured, that each pile of the expected treasure contains parts of the young larvÆ, and that there is much pollen commingled with the other substances in the box; in short, he finds that the whole is dirty and filthy in appearance; and that he has destroyed a part of the most valuable brood for another year. And, if instead of box A. he take box B. he will fare little, if any better; nay, he will in all probability destroy a greater quantity of brood: and in box C. he cannot expect to find more than half-filled cells, or empty combs. Such are the fruits and profits of the piling system of Bee-management. There are Bee-masters resident within twenty miles of the good town of Spalding, and in many other places that might be mentioned, who know that the foregoing account is true, lamentably true: but, until such practitioners are sensible of the faultiness of their system of Bee-management, it would be folly in me to appeal more directly to any of them for a confirmation of what I know to be the truth. How, I would ask, can the Bees' sweet treasures be divided from their other work, if there be no means of varying and regulating the temperature in their hive? Without the aid of ventilation it is, in my opinion, impossible; but with it, it is perfectly easy, perfectly safe, and not at all distressing nor even unpleasant to the Bees.

Before I take my leave of the piling or storifying practitioner, whom I consider, as perhaps he may consider me, to be very, very imperfect in the management of Bees, I feel it to be my duty to my readers, and of course to the piling Bee-master, if he should vouchsafe to me a reading, to record a few other facts that bear strongly against the piling practice—facts derived from long and attentive observation of the nature and habits of Honey-Bees. Twelve years' steady practice and constant attention to the movements of these ingenious insects are the foundations I have to build upon. Besides I have proofs, well-authenticated, indisputable proofs, of the abundant produce of honey having been taken from collateral-boxes, and that of very superior quality too; which honey I take from the Bees as being a superabundant store, and not as a part, the taking away of which has any tendency to weaken, or in any way to injure, the prosperity of the colony from which it is taken. But what do we behold when a box is taken from a storied pile?—what that in the least deserves to be termed humanity? Do not a thousand murders stare us in the face? Why should the operator be veiled and muffled up and made sting-proof, if no conflict was expected—if no deeds of violence were anticipated? But violence is anticipated, and practised too, to such an extent that it is no uncommon occurrence for the Bees that escape destruction to desert the other boxes altogether. This ends one part of the business.

And these objections against the practice of storifying boxes will, I trust, induce the reflecting, ingenuous reader to turn his attention to the importance of ventilation in collateral-boxes. By regulating the interior temperature of the hive, suitable and generative heat is confined to the pavilion, that is—to the mother-hive, which heat causes the Queen to propagate her young in the pavilion—this being the middle-box, and near the entrance, a great advantage is thereby afforded to all the Bees passing in and out, that fully demonstrates the necessity of their labours being assisted in the breeding-season, and not obstructed.

It is the heat which causes the working-Bees to deposit their pollen in the immediate vicinity of the seat of nature. This pollen, which is called by some writers Bee-bread, is gathered and deposited for the special purpose of supporting the young larvÆ, while helpless insects, or babies, as it were, in the hive. Combined with heat, it is this material which discolours the much admired works of the Bees; it is this which also makes the wax and honey yellow: besides where this pollen is deposited by the Bees, there, or in that part of the hive, will the Queen lay her eggs,—and there of course propagate her species. And as animal nature advances to perfection, so rises the interior temperature of the hive, until an almost suffocating heat obliges the Bees to leave their home. This heat extends itself to the most remote parts of their domicil; and were it not for the influence of ventilation in the end-boxes, a discolouration of their beautiful works would also be extended through the hive, and the Queen would lay her eggs promiscuously as she does in the cottage-hive. But this mischief is corrected by ventilation: can then any reasonable man deny its powerful and useful effects in the management of Bees?

The Queen-Bee is but seldom seen by the most acute observer; she loves to propagate her young in secrecy, at the regular temperature of the hive at her own birth. If she can possibly avoid it, she will not lay her eggs where man can overlook and examine her movements; consequently the ventilation in the side-boxes prevents her extending her works of nature beyond the limits of her native hive. As soon as she feels a cooling change of temperature, she immediately withdraws to her native clime, and leaves her working subjects to store the beautifully white combs with the purest crystal sweet. Bat, were the Queen permitted, as she is in the piling system, as well as in the cottage-hive, to follow her subjects through the whole hive, with one and the same temperature throughout, she would most certainly propagate her young just as she does in the piled-boxes. In that case there would be no advantage derivable from the purity of the honey. Again, on my plan, the middle-box is so situated that the Queen in it is placed conveniently to superintend her labourers; her eye can behold them in the throngest of their labour, being so near the well fortified entrance of her pavilion. In such a favourable situation, she can view the movements of her subjects, and not a moment need be lost, because all their streets and passages are short. The direct ascent to the top of one of my boxes is not quite eleven inches, and with a middle-sized bell-glass superadded, it does not exceed eighteen inches; so that in one day, when the honey-dew is plentiful, ten thousand Bees will gather more treasure than three times that number on the piling system, in which the Bees are compelled to mount up to the Babylonian height of Thorley's fourth box.

These (partly repetitions of what has been stated before, I am aware,) are conveniences which collateral-boxes possess, and which do not belong to piled-boxes. In piled-boxes Bees are subjected to unnecessary labour, which is so far a waste of time. From piled-boxes not nearly the quantity of honey and wax is procured, that may be procured from collateral-boxes,—nor is that deficient quantity of a quality at all comparable with the other. In managing piled-boxes many Bees are destroyed.

These are my objections to that system of Bee-management; and I put it to every person who has practised storifying to say whether they are not well-founded.