BEE-FEEDING.

Neglected generally, as is the management of Bees by their cottage possessors, there is no part of it less attended to, nor more slovenly performed, when performed at all, than that of feeding. The cottager commonly takes up, as he terms it, his best hives for the sake of the treasures they contain, or are supposed to contain. This is destroying Bees because they are rich! He also takes up the lightest and poorest—of course the late swarms—and those that are the least likely to live through the winter; because if he get from one of these but two or three pounds of honey, though he seldom gets so much, and a few ounces of wax, he thinks that that is all clear gain: and, if he get neither honey nor wax, he, at any rate, gets rid of the expense and trouble of feeding his good-for-nothing swarms, which, in his opinion, however fed, would never come to any good. A pennyworth of brimstone will do the job at once, and is more easily paid for than a pound of sugar, and after that another, and perhaps another. Such is the reasoning, and calculation, and cruel practice of the generality of cottage Bee-keepers! Such is the destruction annually dealt out to hundreds of poor swarms, and thousands and millions of poor Bees!! I do from my heart pity and deplore the untimely fate of these suffocated, innocent, valuable insects. To destroy Bees because they are rich is a barbarous practice, and ought by all means to be discountenanced and discontinued;—to destroy Bees because they are poor and may need support, is cruel—-is inhuman—is shocking, however little may be thought of it by those who still adhere to this practice. Even with the common straw-hives, this terrible havoc among poor stocks and late swarms might be prevented, if they, who happen to have them, would so far improve themselves in the practical management of an apiary, as to be able to fumigate, and to take such Bees out of the hives containing them, and to join them to their richer stock-hives, in the latter end of August, or any time in September. This is by far the best plan that can be adopted with poor hives; and there really is no difficulty in the operation. This strengthens the population of rich stocks, and causes them to swarm early in the ensuing spring, it preserves the Bees, which is of itself, independently of the advantages accruing from it afterwards, a consideration that never should be lost sight of,—it leaves the contents of the fumigated hive, as absolutely in the possession of the Bee-owner, as if the Bees had been suffocated and destroyed,—and in most cases it entirely does away with the necessity of feeding. I confess I should rejoice greatly, and flatter myself that every friend of humanity would rejoice with me, to see this mode of disposing of weak hives universally adopted; because, it may be presumed, that the next step in the way of improvement would be to take away the superabundant treasure of the Bees and still preserve them.

Notwithstanding, under certain circumstances it will always be necessary, and judicious in Bee-masters, to have recourse to feeding. If, for instance, after an early swarm is put into a hive, or into a box, two or three or more cold, ungenial days should follow, and more particularly if those days should happen to be rainy also, by feeding such a swarm you will assist your impoverished labourers, not only with necessary food, but with materials and treasure, which, unfortunately for them, they cannot at such an unfavourable juncture get abroad to collect elsewhere.

Different apiarians have adopted and recommended different ways of feeding Bees, none of which, in my opinion, possess any great merit; in order, therefore, to improve this part of Bee-management, my endeavours have been directed to the contrivance and construction of a feeding department; which is attached to my collateral-hives in so convenient a manner, that I can feed my Bees, at any time when feeding is required—in spring, in autumn, or in winter, without disturbing the position of the hive, and without changing its interior temperature; which temperature cannot be kept equable and comfortable, where a hive is frequently lifted up from its stand, and its interior is suddenly exposed to the action of perhaps an extremely cold atmosphere. Besides, a hive cannot be lifted up without breaking the propolis by which it has been cemented all round and made fast to its stool. In sharp, cold weather, disruption of the hive from its stool is a serious mischief done to the Bees; because, however carefully it maybe set down again, there will have been made many vents and crevices between the edge of the hive and the stool, which will occasion various currents of air, cold, frosty, or other—proper or improper—to be continually passing through the lower part of the hive. And should Bees be tempted by food, or urged by hunger, to descend into these currents in sharp, frosty weather, but few of them will get away alive; the keen air acting upon them whilst feeding, paralyzes and kills them. I am an advocate for keeping Bees cool in winter—yes, cool and still also: let them not be disturbed nor disunited,—let them not be forced nor tempted to (if I may so say) uncluster themselves. I have no objection to a current of air passing through the lower part of a hive in winter, provided the Bees be not disturbed—be not exposed singly to its nipping influence; but I strongly object to the feeding of Bees in such currents, because, in that case, feeding is prejudicial to them. The cottager seldom protects his hives in winter with any other covering than that which a pot, called a pancheon, whelmed over each hive, forms; capped with this unsightly piece of earthenware, his hives are exposed to all weathers; consequently the less he disturbs them the better. He therefore should give his weak stocks a copious feeding, in September at the latest,—not molest them during the severity of winter,—but in the spring, as soon as the Bees begin to make their appearance at the mouth of his hives, introduce his wooden trough furnished with a little Bee-sirup, and then close up the entrance,—withdraw the trough in the morning, and return it replenished every evening, as long as feeding is necessary. Tearing off a hive at Christmas, and scattering a few ounces of brown sugar upon the stand, and then setting down the hive again, deserves not the name of feeding; though it is all the bounty that is bestowed on some stocks; and is even more than others are treated with. It need not then be wondered at that so many stocks of Bees perish in the winter, and in the spring of every year. By judicious feeding, at proper seasons, almost any stock of Bees may be preserved: by injudicious feeding, at an improper season, even good stocks—stocks that would survive, if not fed at all, nor molested, during the depth and severity of winter, may be seriously injured—may be totally destroyed. The peasant Bee-keeper, however, does not often subject himself to the charge complimental of being accessary to the death of his Bees through mistaken kindness.

The sum and substance of my directions, as respects Bee-feeding, are these:—

1. In spring feed sparingly.

2. In autumn feed plentifully.

3. In winter do not feed at all.

4. Feed swarms, if unseasonable weather immediately follow the act of swarming.

5. Preserve the Bees of weak stocks, and prevent a great deal of the necessity for feeding, by adding them to those that are rich and able to support them. This last is the best and cheapest, nay—it is even a profitable method of feeding Bees.

Early swarming, where swarming is necessary as in the straw-hive colonies, is of great advantage to the watchful apiarian, but not to the inattentive and slothful manager. I have seen in a cottager's garden a swarm of Bees on the 10th of May, which was considerably weaker in the month of August, than was a swarm on the 10th of July, and that solely on account of not being fed and properly attended to.

If early swarms are judiciously fed, and supported by a natural heat within, they will be greatly benefitted thereby, and eventually prosper.

But, notwithstanding what has been already said, the cottager may probably ask—"how can I feed my Bees without lifting up their hive?" I again and again request him to examine my collateral box-hive; and he will perceive that he may easily feed the Bees in his cottage-hive in the same easy manner, if he have but ingenuity enough to attach a proper feeder to the stool or floor of his hive.

Mr. Huish advises apiarians to make choice of a fine and warm day in which to feed Bees, he says, the danger to be apprehended from the change of the temperature in the hive will thereby be obviated. This, I grant, is rational and humane, and in some degree a confirmation of my already expressed opinion, respecting the mischiefs resulting from the inconsiderate practice of exposing the interior of a hive to sudden and extreme alternations of temperature. But it matters not what sort of weather it may be, if my mode of feeding be adopted. I feed my Bees in their native temperature, without disturbing them or exposing their food to the temptation of robbers, which feeding in the ordinary way so frequently encourages, during the spring and autumnal seasons; and it is at these times that Bees stand in most need of assistance.

In the year 1828, I purchased a cottage-hive of a neighbour, it was a large hive, and well-stocked with Bees, but extremely light; I was fearful for the safety of its inmates, and, therefore, placed it over one of my feeders; in order to give them support by feeding, I placed the sirup intended for their food beneath the hive; but to my great surprise the Bees refused to take the proffered bounty. I persevered in my endeavours to induce them to feed for four days, but they would not touch the well-intended boon: I therefore resolved to ascertain the cause of their refusal, and on turning up the hive I discovered that thousands of the Bees were in a dying state, I had the curiosity to take the whole of them out singly. After several hours' particular attention and patient search, I found the Queen was dead. I then united the weak, enfeebled Bees to a rich stock, and they nearly all recovered their strength. Their numbers greatly assisted in the labour of the hive to which they were joined. Certain it is, that if any accident befal their Queen in winter, it is total ruin to that stock of Bees: where such a death is discovered, feeding will avail nothing, the Bees dwindle away and perish.

Mr. Huish says—and he is perfectly correct in saying—that there are some persons who defer the feeding of their Bees until the moment they suppose that they may be in actual want. This is a most reprehensible plan; for should feeding be too long delayed, the Bees will become so weak and debilitated, that they will be unable to convey the food into their cells: the food ought to be administered to poor stocks, three weeks or a month before they may be supposed to be in actual want; it will then be conveyed with the greatest despatch into the cells, and the hive will be saved from a death of famine. He then goes on to observe—that some apiarians conceive that the feeding of Bees in the spring renders them lazy and inactive. On what this opinion is grounded he is at a loss to conjecture, as must be every practical apiarian; for it is in direct contradiction, not only to Mr. Huish's experience, but also to that of many other apiarians. A little food granted to a populous, and even well-provisioned box or hive in the spring, is attended with very beneficial consequences. It diffuses animation and vigour throughout the whole community;—it accelerates the breeding of the Queen—and consequently conduces to the production of early swarms, where room is not previously given in order to prevent swarming altogether.

BEE-FOOD.

Artificial food proper for Bees may be made by mixing coarse, raw sugar, and good, sound ale, in the following proportions:—

To a quart of ale add a pound and a half of sugar, gently boil them, in a sweet, well-tinned saucepan, over a fire clear from smoke, for five or six minutes, or until the sugar be dissolved and thoroughly incorporated with the ale; and, during the process of boiling, skim off the dross that rises to the surface. Some persons boil these ingredients much longer, and until they become, when cool, a thick, clammy sirup; this not only diminishes the quantity of the mixture, but renders it rather disadvantageous, to weak Bees in particular, by clogging and plaguing them, if, as they are almost sure to do, they get their legs or wings daubed with it. I prefer sirup in a more liquid state.

For spring feeding, I advise—that not more than a pound of sugar be put to a quart of ale, or sweet wort, if it can be obtained, and that a small quantity of common salt be added. By a small quantity I mean—a drachm or two at the most to a quart of the sirup. Salt, it has been said, is conducive to the health of Bees, and the most efficacious remedy for the dysentery, which sometimes affects Bees in the spring; therefore, it may not be amiss to put a little salt into their food, by way of preventive, rather than to have recourse to it afterwards as a remedy.

Speaking of the substances which are proper for the feeding of Bees, Mr. Huish says[I]—"he is perfectly convinced that honey alone is very injurious to Bees, as it in general gives them the dysentery." Whether by this extraordinary passage Mr. Huish has, or has not, subjected himself to the lash of his own ridicule, it would be hypercritical and unbecoming in me to determine. As an apiarian I respect him; in no other character am I acquainted with him. His work on the management of Bees I have read, and have derived information and occasionally assistance from some of its pages. There are in it, nevertheless, several untenable positions, of which I consider the above-quoted passage to be one: and, if what he has remarked somewhat sarcastically, in a note at the foot of page 31, be read in conjunction with this passage, it will be for the candid reader, apiarian, or other, to decide whether Mr. Huish in propri person does not, oddly enough, exemplify his own remark. It is there said—that "there is no wonder in nature which an apiarian has not seen." Professedly an apiarian himself, he must have seen some, at least, of the wonders in nature, otherwise he never could have been "perfectly convinced"—that honey—"honey alone"—the very substance which Bees, guided by the instinct of their nature, collect with so much industry, and store up with so much care, for their subsistence, should be "very injurious to them, and in general give them the dysentery." From this it seems that the substance, which is the natural food for one stock of Bees, is physic for another, if not poison!! I cannot but express my astonishment that a gentleman, so acute and experienced as Mr. Huish undoubtedly is, should have asserted in the most unqualified manner—that "honey alone is very injurious to Bees." Were this the fact, rich stocks, and all stocks that subsist upon "honey alone" during winter, would "in general" be affected with dysentery in the spring, which certainly is not the case. "In general" rich stocks are healthy and strong in the spring. Poverty is the predisposing cause of dysentery among Bees: a regular supply of their natural—their peculiar food, does not induce dysentery or disease of any sort. Had Mr. Huish analyzed the honey given to Bees as food, and which induced dysentery, he would, I suspect, have discovered that it was not "honey alone," but—medicated honey—honey and brimstone, or honey strongly tinctured either with brimstone or tobacco. That honey, tinctured with the pernicious qualities of those substances, should have a laxative effect upon impoverished, debilitated Bees, is no more than might be expected: but then it is not the honey that has the "injurious" effect, but the essence of the brimstone or of the tobacco that is administered along with it. What effect honey, that has not been stoved and saturated with brimstone or with tobacco, may have upon weak Bees, when given to them for spring food, I pretend not to determine, because I have never tried the experiment. But I do say that before the arrival of spring, honey, that has been drained or expressed from the comb, undergoes fermentation, and that fermentation may, for aught I know, impart to it physical properties, which in its pure, liquid, unchanged state, in the warm hive, it does not possess. I am not chemist enough to venture to assert that it is so, but I think it highly probable that fermentation may alter the properties of honey, and perhaps may render it unwholesome to Bees. But fresh, unfermented honey, even that in the blackest and oldest combs—the very refuse, and all such as the cottage-housewife makes into common mead, if spread upon large dishes and placed in an apiary, will be banqueted upon by the Bees in the most eager manner, and is apparently much enjoyed by them. They soon carry into their hives what they do not consume on the spot, and suffer no inconvenience whatever from the treat. I have feasted my Bees in this way scores of times, and esteem it the very best mode of autumnal feeding, and the most profitable way of disposing of broken combs and refuse honey. "Honey alone" is the natural food of Bees, and if given to them pure and untainted, in its primitive, limpid state, so far from being injurious, it is highly beneficial to them; of this I have not the shadow of a doubt. For autumnal feeding, I prefer honey to all other substances, and recommend it as the most proper food that can be given to them.

[I] Huish on Bees, page 272.