FUMIGATION.
Fumigation is a rather portentous word; but, as soon as I shall have explained for what purposes, and in what manner, I occasionally make use of it, it will be totally divested of all deadly signification. In my practice it is not a Bee-destroyer, but a Bee-preserver;—when resorted to by me it is never carried, nor intended to be carried, to suffocation: but, in the operation of uniting weak swarms or poor stocks with more wealthy and prosperous ones—which I consider to be a meritorious and most humane practice,—when it is necessary to examine the state and condition of even a populous colony, should unfavourable symptoms as to its healthiness or its prosperity manifest themselves,—when it is known, or but suspected, that there are wax-moths, mice, spiders, or other Bee-enemies lodged in a hive, which the Bees of themselves cannot dislodge nor get rid of; and which, if not got rid of by man's assistance, would soon destroy almost any colony,—when Bees and their works (for I never transfer the former without transferring an ample sufficiency of the latter at the same time) are to be taken out of a decayed straw-hive, in order to be put into a more substantial one, or into collateral-boxes, which I hold to be the best of all hives,—and on innumerable other occasions, it is absolutely necessary to subdue Bees so far as to render them incapable of using that formidable, venomous, little weapon, with which Providence has armed them, and which generally dreaded little weapon they can use so dexterously, before we can operate upon them for their own good. By means of a very simple apparatus, which may be called a fumigator, and which is a contrivance as novel and as useful in the management of Bees, as any of my hives or other inventions, Bees may be totally subdued without being injured in the slightest degree, and dealt with as if they had neither stings nor wings.
I beg, however, to re-state distinctly—that, in taking off a box or a glass of honey, no fumigation whatever is necessary, or ever practised by me. It is only in cases such as those just enumerated that I have recourse to it; but in no case for the destruction of Bees. Fumigation, therefore, in my practice, is not suffocation.
The following figure is a representation of a fumigator, which a brief explanation will render intelligible.
This useful article consists of a square top-board upon which is placed a straw-hive (E.) so as to show an open, circular space under the hive and through the square board into the bag below. I need hardly observe—that the straw-hive is no part of the fumigator, but is here represented as standing upon it in order to exemplify its use. The top-board is of inch-deal, and is nineteen or twenty inches square. A round piece is cut out of its centre of not more than thirteen inches in diameter—that being something near to, or perhaps rather more than, the inside diameter of a common hive—so that a hive will stand upon the wooden circumference of the part left, without there being any ledge inside, that is—any part so enclosed by the hive as to catch and detain the falling Bees. From the upper-edge of this circle is suspended a bag, a yard in length, made of glazed calico, the bottom-part of which draws round the rim of a shallow, funnel-shaped, tin Bee-receiver, which Bee-receiver is about ten inches across at the top, and its lower part, or neck (D. or F.) is three inches and a half in length, and its throat (if I may so term it) is nearly three inches in width. To fit this neck, which is thickly perforated for the purpose of admitting fresh air, when fresh air may be required, is a close lid, just like that of a common, tin canister, to hold up the fumigated Bees, and also to stop the ventilation when not wanted. C. is the fumigating-lamp with a perforated top through which the fume ascends, and is made conical, so that a fumigated Bee in its fall cannot rest upon it and be thereby scorched or injured, as would inevitably be the case were this top flat. The tie (B.) closes the bag and keeps every Bee above until the lamp and every thing below be adjusted, and it is then to be untied. The fumigator is here represented as standing upon three legs made fast to the top-board by small bolts, as at A.; but it is quite as convenient in practice, and more portable, if, instead of these legs, it be made like a common scale with a cord from each corner, which may be gathered into a small iron-hook, and thereby suspended from the branch of a tree, or from any other convenient place, when used. The lower part of the bag is represented as being transparent, but that is done purposely to show how the lamp is placed inside when prepared for operation.
By persons inexperienced in such matters it may be thought to be an extraordinary feat to unite the Bees of one hive with those of another—-to bind, as it were, the legs and wings, and pro tempore, to render useless the sting of every individual Bee, until such union be effected. Nothing, however, is more easy; nor is any part of apiarian practice attended with more pleasing consequences to the operator, or with more important and beneficial ones to the Bees themselves. When in a state of temporary intoxication from the fume made to ascend through the perforated tin (C.) into their hive, these beautiful insects are perfectly manageable,—perfectly harmless.
This intoxicating fume is caused by introducing into the fumigating-lamp a piece of ignited vegetable substance, called puck, puckball, or frog-cheese, or, most commonly, fuzzball. It is a species of fungus, or mushroom, and is plentiful enough in the autumn in rank pastures and in rich edishes. Shepherds, milk-maids, or country-school boys are well acquainted with them,—know very well where to find them,—and for a mere trifle will easily pick up as many of them as will supply the demands of twenty apiarians. They are frequently as large as a man's head, or larger. In 1826 I had an unripe, white puckball, which weighed ten pounds. When ripe they are internally of a brown colour, and turning spongy and powdery become exceedingly light, and are then properly fuzzballs. For the substance of the following directions respecting the preparation of fuzzballs for Bee-fumigation, and for its application to that occasionally necessary purpose, I have no hesitation in acknowledging myself to be indebted to Thorley's treatise on Bees—no mean authority on such a subject.
When you have procured one of these pucks, put it into a large piece of stout paper,—press it down therein to two-thirds, or, if you can, to one-half, of its original size, and then tie it up closely,—and, lastly, put it into an oven sometime after the household bread has been drawn, that is, when the oven is nearly cool, and let it remain there all night, or, until it will hold fire and smother away like touch-wood, i. e. burn without kindling into flame. In this state it is fit for the fumigating-lamp, and may be used in the manner following, when the union of two stocks is the apiarian's object.
Take a piece of this prepared fungus, as large as a hen's egg, (it is better to have too much of it than too little to begin with) ignite one end of it with a candle, and then put it into the fumigating-lamp,—next fix the lamp in its socket over the Bee-receiver, and place the whole inside the bag, as shown in the plate, and untie B—the fastening round the middle. In a very short space of time the Bees in the hive placed upon the top-board (which is necessarily the first thing to be attended to in every operation of this kind) will be totally under your control. The operator should be particularly careful to close every vacancy, however small, that there may happen to be between the top-board and the edge of the hive, by tying a cloth round it—the hive—as soon as ever it is placed upon the board. This precaution will prevent the escape of any of the fume, and will also prevent the Bees from annoying the operator during the time he is making the arrangements necessary previously to every fumigating process.
In the course of a minute or very little more you will hear the Bees dropping like hail into their receiver, at the bottom of the fumigating apparatus.
When the major part of them are down, and you hear but few fall, gently beat the top of the hive with your hands, in order to get as many down as you can. Then, having loosened the cloth, lift the hive off and set it upon a table, or upon a broad board, prepared for the purpose, and knocking the hive against it several times, many more Bees will fall down, and perhaps the Queen amongst the rest; for, as she generally lodges near the crown of the hive, or is driven thither by the fume, and surrounded and protected there by the other Bees to the very last, and as long ever they have the power loyally to cling round her, she often falls one of the last. If the Queen is not among the Bees on the table, search for her among the main body in the Bee-receiver; first, however, putting them upon the table, if you discover her not before lying among the uppermost Bees therein.
During this search for the Queen, or with as little delay as possible, you, or some one for you, should be proceeding in a similar manner with the Bees in the other hive, with which those already fumigated are to be united. As soon as the Bees of the hive last fumigated are all composed and quiet, and you have found and secured one of the Queens, you may put the Bees of both hives together into an empty one, for the purpose of mingling them thoroughly together, and of sprinkling them at the same time with a little ale and sugar; this done, put them and one only of the two Queens among the combs of the hive you intend them to inhabit, and gently shake them down into it. When you have thus got all the Bees of your two hives into one, cover it with a cloth and closely bind the corners of that cloth about it, and let them stand during that night and the next day, shut or closed up in this manner, so that a Bee may not get out; but not so close as to smother them for want of air.
In the evening of the following day, having previously removed the hive, containing your united-stock, to its proper stand, viz. that which it had occupied before the operation, loose the corners of the cloth and remove it from the mouth of the hive, and the Bees will, with a great noise, immediately sally forth; but being too late to take wing, they will presently go in again; and remain satisfied in and with their new abode—new at least, to one-half of them, and new to the other half also when transferred into a fresh hive, or into boxes.
But in taking away the cloth discretion and caution must be used, because the Bees will for some time resent the affront put upon them by such to them, no doubt, offensive treatment.
The best time of the year for unions of weak stocks with strong ones is in autumn, after the young brood are all out—in the latter part of August, or any time during September: but for removals of stocks from straw-hives into boxes, the best time is early in the spring before the eggs of the Queen have changed and quickened into larvÆ,—I will say—in the month of March; and if the weather is cold, it is advisable to perform the operation in a room where the temperature is about 60 degrees. For if Bees are displaced, that is—taken from their hive, in a cold atmosphere, it is but rarely that they recover from the effects of the fume so as to marshal themselves into working order in a box or new hive. But this they can do, and will do most effectually, under this agreeable temperature. As twelve hours are sufficient for the Bees to regain their former independency in their new domicil, you may place them at the end of that period on their summer stool, and they will work, as soon as the weather will permit them, as if they had never been removed from their former hive, nor in any way disturbed.
The great number of operations of this kind, which I have performed before hundreds of admiring and gratified spectators, chiefly of the higher ranks of society, renders it almost unnecessary for me to observe—that once being present at and witnessing it, will convey a more perfect idea of the whole performance than any written description of it can give. If, however, any gentleman, or other apiarian friend, who has not yet seen the performance of this operation, should be desirous of witnessing it, the author will freely undertake that, or any other Bee-service in his power, by which he can oblige, assist, or instruct him.
The same degree of precaution is not necessary on the removing of the Bees of a cottage-hive on my principle; it is only requisite in the particular case of joining or uniting two or more hives together, that such nice management need be observed. And certainly the more expeditiously the whole is performed, the more pleasing will be the result of the operation, and the more certain of success.
I will conclude this subject with an anecdote:—In the year 1828, I was engaged by the Honourable Lady Gifford, of Roehampton, to unite the Bees of two hives; and as the operation was novel to the spectators, who on that occasion consisted principally of the branches of that worthy family,—when I had drawn the Bees from the cottage-hive and they were all spread on a white cloth, and every eye was anxiously intent upon discovering the Queen-Bee, there was some trouble in finding that particular Bee; even I myself—an old practitioner—had overlooked her; and having occasion to leave the table and my fumigated Bees surrounded by my young Lord and Lady Gifford, and by the rest of her Ladyship's family, her infant son, in the arms of his nurse, eagerly called out—"Mamma, mamma, what is that?" Hearing the child's animated expression, I returned to the table, and instantly beheld and caught the Queen of the Bees,—and her actually pointed out by an infant not three years of age. Is there any excuse then for not knowing the Queen-Bee? And, as a true description of this Bee and of the office she fulfils in the hive, will be given in the course of this work, accompanied with a plate of her and also of the other Bees, I trust my Bee-friends will not hereafter allow a child of only three years of age (although that child was the son of a late Attorney-General,) to excel them in this particular point of apiarian knowledge, which is not only highly interesting, but very useful to the operator, when uniting stocks, or transferring Bees from one domicil to another. Never shall I forget the look of satisfaction that beamed on the countenance of the affectionate mother. To see each of her eight amiable children around the table with her Ladyship, minutely searching every little cluster of Bees, in order to give the first information of the Queen, was a lovely sight; but to hear her infant son proclaim, as it were, the Queen of the Bees, by pointing his little, delicate finger to the object of his curiosity, and exclaim—"Mamma, mamma, what is that?" was most gratifying even to me. Well might the little naturalist inquire—"what is that?" when he was in the presence of royalty, and pointing to one of the most extraordinary monarchs in the world, while I myself—an old practitioner, had not previously observed her. Be it so, I acknowledge my oversight in this instance, and feel it incumbent on me to give the merit of the discovery to him, to whom on that occasion it was so justly due.
