SUPERNUMERARY QUEENS.

In the last chapter we were at sea without a compass by which to steer our course aright,—with two pilots on board, 'tis true; one of them a foreigner, experienced beyond most other men, though aged, and infirm, and defective in his eyesight, but willing, nevertheless, nay—anxious to conduct us to our wished-for haven; the other, though not inexperienced, less practised, it is thought, in voyages of discovery, and more venturesome than his senior in the office, contending that the respectable, old gentleman had put us on a wrong tack,—that we were in a wrong latitude,—that our reckoning was incorrect, and even making merry with the old man's infirmities. Perplexed, and doubting in whom it is most reasonable and safest to confide, we seize the helm ourselves and make to the nearest shore, and luckily land on terra firma—terra cognita, and are now approaching a field with every corner of which we are thoroughly acquainted. But metaphor apart, lest we should not properly sustain it.

There is but one reigning Queen in a colony of Bees at one time: but previously to swarming, royal-cells are constructed, and provision made, for ensuring a successor to the Queen that leads the swarm and emigrates, when the too-crowded population, and over-heated temperature of the hive, render such emigration necessary. That it is the old Queen that leaves the hive with a swarm I am well convinced, notwithstanding what some apiarians assert to the contrary. To satisfy myself on this point, I have sometimes in the evening of the day on which a hive has swarmed, at other times on the second, and at others on the third day after that event, put the parent-stock under, or rather, I may say—over fumigation, dissected and examined the combs and Queen-cells minutely, and the Bees also, and whenever I did find a Queen, she was invariably a young one; but, instead of a Queen, I have more frequently found a royal-cell just ready to give birth, as it were, to a successor to that that had left the hive; and in general there are several of these royal-cells containing embryo Queens, in different states of forwardness: so that it seems, Bees have an instinctive foresight which leads them to provide against casualties, for they are generally provided with the means of bringing forth supernumerary Queens, that in case the first that comes forth should prove steril, should be defective, or in any way unfortunate, or unfitted to assume the sovereignty of the hive, there may be others ready to burst into being, and remedy the misfortune that would ensue, were there but one chance of a successor, and were that one chance to prove abortive. But no sooner is a young Queen enthroned, as it were, and established in the government of the hive than the supernumerary ones, in whatever stage of existence, are all discarded, and cast out of the colony, Mr. Porter, of Cowbit, has this year (1832) picked up eight of those discarded, virgin Queens, together with the old Queen, which last was sorely mutilated, but not killed—she alone was cast out alive, the others had been killed: these nine supernumerary Queens were all cast out of one fine colony of Bees in the course of two successive days. That colony is a remarkably prosperous one, and has not swarmed. I myself have observed no fewer than twenty-four supernumerary, virgin Queens that were cast out of one of my stocks; and that stock is flourishing, and has not swarmed: and my respected friend, Mr. Salmon, of Stokeferry, informs me that he once collected upwards of thirty of these young Queens; whether his stock swarmed or not I am unable to state positively, but presume it did not; for, generally speaking, when supernumerary, virgin Queens are cast out of a colony, it may be considered as an indication that that colony is not only prosperous, but that swarming is not contemplated—in fact, is abandoned for that season. The question then is—how are Bees to be managed, in order that they may be induced to rid themselves of these supernumeraries? The relation of the following practical lesson will both answer the question, and exemplify and confirm the foregoing remarks.

It has already been related (in pages 62-66) that in 1826 I forced a colony of Bees to swarm,—that I returned that swarm to its parent-stock, and managed so as to prevent its swarming in future,—and that two royal nymphs were cast out on that occasion. To prove whether I could not accomplish the same object, and prevent swarming altogether, I had recourse to the following experiment.

On the 26th of June, 1827, at one o'clock p.m. the thermometer, in one of my colonies of Bees, suddenly rose to 96. The progressive rise and constantly high temperature in that colony, during the evening and night, together with the extraordinary weight of the hive, induced me to suspect that swarming, if not prevented, would shortly take place. Not, however, perceiving any of the symptoms that usually precede the immediate act of swarming, I suffered matters to go on until the 6th of July, on which day the thermometer stood at 102. The drones came out and sung their merry tune; and during the whole night the temperature of the colony continued to increase. On the next day unequivocal symptoms of swarming presented themselves. These urged me to push my experiment to the highest pitch of proof; I therefore went on narrowly watching and ventilating this stock, until the 10th of July, when, in spite of my endeavours to keep down the temperature by merely ventilating the thermometer was standing at 112, consequently I concluded that it was high time to lay this prosperous colony under contribution; and in the evening of that day, I took from it a beautifully finished glass of honey, as pure as the crystal stream; its weight was sixteen pounds. I continued ventilating the side-boxes, and placed an empty bell-glass upon the middle one, from which I had just before taken the full one, I then withdrew the dividing-slide, and the Bees immediately entered the glass, and began their works in it, and in four days filled it with comb, and partly filled the cells with honey. On the sixth day after those operations had been performed, a continuance of the former temperature demonstrated to me the necessity of taking away a side-box. I did so, and found its weight to be no less than sixty-five pounds. On removing the box of honey, I replaced it with an empty one; and on drawing up the tin-slide, in order to admit the Bees into the empty box, to my great gratification I found the thermometer standing at 82 in that box, and in the space of five minutes the other collateral-box was under the same agreeable temperature. By this continued ventilation, within the short space of twenty-four hours afterwards, I ascertained the following important fact,—viz.—that no sooner did the Queen-Bee feel the agreeable change that had taken place in the interior of her domicil, than the royal nymph was dislodged from its cell, and by the Bees brought out of the pavilion, and laid lifeless on the front-board.

This fact taught me by experiment, that the reigning Queen would very soon, from real necessity, have been compelled to leave the now discarded nymph to take possession of the hive.

The Queen, owing to the excessive and daily increasing heat of the hive, would have left her wealthy colony—would have been compelled to leave it—had not the ventilation, and the enlargement of her domicil, prevented the painful necessity of her so doing. This, I think, proves the truth of the observation—that it is the old Queen which leaves, when Bees are compelled to swarm; but, if not, the following experimental operations have demonstrated the fact. I have united many swarms, and every sovereign Bee I have been under the necessity of making a captive, has invariably been an old one.

On the 25th of June, 1828, I took up a parent-stock, four days after it had thrown off a swarm, and there found only the royal nymph within its cradle—there was no Queen left in that stock, save the one in embryo—the old Queen had gone with the swarm. This lesson caused me to carry my experiments farther. Having taken up the parent-stock, as just stated, I united all the working Bees of that stock to those of the swarm already mentioned, and I also put the young larvÆ found in the parent-stock, to the now united-stock; I then placed the intended royal species—the nymph already mentioned—with the remainder of the young brood, in one of the collateral-boxes, and immediately let the odour of the stock through the communicating slide. To my great satisfaction I discovered the willingness of the old Bees to bring to perfection the young they had been compelled to leave in their former domicil. The royal nymph, however, was an exception; she alone was instantly dragged from her cell, and cast out of the hive.

This confirmed the proof of the important fact gained the preceding year,—namely—that ventilation and the means of dividing the treasures of the Bees, by taking off a glass or a box of honey,—or, if necessary, by taking off both a glass and a box, set aside the necessity for swarming. On all occasions, under this practice, a proper temperature may be supported in a colony; and in all critical points, by a just observation of the state of the thermometer, Bees may be relieved and assisted, and all the mischiefs attending the old mode of management may be guarded against and prevented. For when adequately relieved and properly assisted, they proceed to rid the colony of all embryo Queens, which would only become so many supernumeraries in a hive where the reigning Queen is fertile, and the necessity for emigration is superseded. But, unless Bees could be made to understand that accommodation will be extended to them at the proper time, they, guided by their sense of their situation—not by ours—naturally and wisely provide their own means of relieving themselves; and in so doing frequently bring forth what afterwards become supernumerary Queens, which are invariably destroyed and cast out of the colony, as soon as the Bees are sensible that they have no occasion for them. And, whenever a royal nymph or a virgin Queen is thus cast out, swarming need not be apprehended.