MISCELLANEOUS DIRECTIONS.

In undertaking this work, as I originally did, at the pressing solicitations of several of those Noblemen and Gentlemen, whose names graced the list of the subscribers for the first edition, I had two main objects in view; of which a full and particular explanation of the mode of managing Honey-Bees, in my boxes and upon my principles, was one,—and the other, which I do ardently hope will result from the adoption and encouragement of my long-tried plan, is—the prospective improvement, not only of the culture and condition of those ingenious, admired, and most interesting little creatures, but also of honey and wax—the two valuable articles which Bees, and Bees alone, afford us. To prepare the way for the accomplishment of the latter of these objects, I have exerted my best endeavours—I have spared neither pains nor expense, to give minute, and, I trust, intelligible descriptions of all my boxes and hives, of my Bee-machinery, and of every thing thereto pertaining; which descriptions have been accompanied with such practical directions and relations of experiments, as will, if duly attended to, enable my Bee-friends to put their apiaries upon my humane and profitable system of management. Therefore I do not think it is incumbent upon me to proceed farther at present. I might easily double the size of my book, by entering into and giving lengthy details of several matters relative to Bees, which are not here so much as hinted at; such, for instance, as the distance that they sometimes fly from their hives in quest of honey, and the experiments that have been made to determine that distance;—the nature of honey-dew, and how it is occasioned,—why it abounds on some trees and plants, whilst others are entirely destitute of it,—whether it be a natural exudation of the plants that afford it,—or whether it be produced by the leaf-lice, called aphides;—why, if the impregnation of a Virgin-Queen be retarded beyond a certain number of days after her coming into existence, all the eggs she lays during her whole life, should invariably produce drones;—the language of Bees, for Bees, it has been held, have their peculiar language, though I profess not to understand it, nor even to have studied it, my business being with their habits;—the various diseases or maladies with which skilful men assure us they are occasionally affected;—their senses, their anatomy, and their instinct;—their affinity to the wasp;—exotic Bees from those of Lapland to those of China; and from those of Siberia to those of the Cape of Good Hope;—the stingless Bees of South America, mentioned by Dr. Hancock, that from the luxuriant ever-blooming, tropical plants and flowers, produce black wax;[N] what Aristotle hath remarked on one subject,—what Pliny hath said on another,—what classic Virgil hath so delightfully sung of the nature, economy, and management of Bees in Italy,—what Gelieu in modest prose hath said of Bees in Switzerland,—Huber and Reaumur in France, and a host of writers in Germany, and in our own native England; what opposite opinions have been entertained respecting honey; whether plants and flowers secrete pure honey, or whether the saccharine matter culled from them undergoes any percolating, rectifying, chemical process in the stomach of the Bee.—I might observe, that the illustrious Hunter was of opinion that it undergoes no change; although the no less illustrious naturalist Reaumur, and the entomologists Kirby and Spence, imagine that some change does take place before the honey is stored in the cells,—that, as the nectarious exudation of plants is not of the same consistence as honey from the hives, it is reasonable to suppose that it undergoes some change in transitu whilst in the body of the Bee; that, as far as my experience has enabled me to make observations on this subject, I am disposed to lean to the opinion of Reaumur, Kirby, and Spence, and to ascribe the difference between honey in the nectarium of a flower or on the leaf of a tree, and honey in the cells of a comb, to the absorption of the volatile parts of the saccharine of the plants and flowers whilst in the honey-bag; which absorption is aided and accelerated by the natural heat of the Bee, and by which process honey is rendered of uniform consistence, in the graphic language of my chemical friend—Mr. Booth—I might exclaim, "How necessarily do the least valued products in the economy of nature, eliminated in the most miniature laboratory of her operations, confirm us in the belief of the existence, wisdom, and power of nature's God—the Great Chemist—who has not only imbued matter to act upon its fellow matter in the infinity of space, to produce an infinite diversity of changes in the material world; but, within the small compass of a Bee, has provided apparatus for certain changes to take place, which are more elaborate, important, and complicated, than are produced in the largest apparatus of the manufacturer! In this little insect are performed all those chemical processes of life, by which nature is kept in the equanimity and beauty of existence—here composition and decomposition, solution and precipitation, sublimation, volatilization, distillation, and absorption, through the agency of heat and attraction, take place on the minutest matters, secreted by the plants and collected by the Bees; and in the hive, by the concentration of their individual efforts, is elaborated that immense quantity of those important products, which constitute such useful commodities in the arts and economy of life."

The discussion of some of these topics, and dissertations on others, might be made amusing, perhaps interesting, and would, at all events, swell the size of my book; but whether I should thereby enhance its intrinsic merits (if intrinsic merit it possess) is more than I dare venture to affirm. In short, these topics come not within my plan,—they are foreign to it, and I gladly leave them to be treated of by others, whose learning is mare able to cope with them, and whose taste may direct them to such subjects. I have withheld nothing that I deem to be essentially necessary to the thorough understanding of my mode of Bee-management; consequently, I anticipate that my two main objects will eventually be attained—that Bee-culture will become a pleasing and a profitable study—a source of instructive amusement and of profit too,—and that our country will, at no great distance of time, be everywhere studded and ornamented with neat, well-ordered apiaries. I will, therefore, now close my present labours with a few miscellaneous directions, chiefly recapitulatory, which, on account of their importance, every apiarian should constantly bear in mind.

Have your Bee-boxes well-made, and of good substantial materials. Strength and durability are of greater consequence than neatness, though that need not be neglected—neatness and strength are not incompatible—they may be combined.

Paint your boxes annually, when they are in their winter situation.

Make a clear ground or floor-way from the pavilion into each of the end-boxes, by cutting away about two inches from the lower edge of each of the corresponding ends, to the depth of half an inch; and make this way or passage as near the front-entrance as it conveniently may be. This convenience has been suggested to me since the directions for making collateral-boxes were printed, and I therefore mention it here as an improvement, because such a way on the floor, and without any climbing, will afford an additional accommodation to Bees on many occasions.

Boxes will not work Bees, neither will Bees work boxes to advantage, unless due attention be paid to them—i. e. both to boxes and to Bees.

Situation is of prime importance: for summer it should be clear and open in front of your boxes, and sheltered at their back by a north-wall or by a thick hedge.

In summer let their aspect be south-east:—early in spring, and again in autumn, due south is the best point to be in front: therefore, as spring advances turn the front of your boxes eastward, and as summer declines move them back again to their spring aspect; or, in other words, when there is not more than twelve hours' sun, let the front of your boxes be due south; and during the time that the sun is more than twelve hours above the horizon, let it be south-east.

Always have the cheerful rays of the morning sun fall upon your boxes: but contrive to throw a shade upon their front for a few hours in the middle of the day, when the weather is very hot. Such a shade will be grateful to your Bees.

Elevate your boxes twenty inches or two feet above the ground: and always keep the grass or ground, under and near them, neat and clean, and entirely free from all nuisances.

A constant supply of water in the immediate vicinity of your apiary is highly desirable; if therefore you have not a natural supply of that element, so necessary for Bees, contrive to let them have it by artificial means—by placing it in or near your apiary, in large, shallow dishes, or in wooden troughs, partially covering the surface with reed or moss, and be careful to replenish them, so that your Bees may always find it there.

Suffer not ants to burrow near your Bees. Ants are enemies to Bees, and will annoy them, if they get among them.

Spiders also are Bee-destroyers; therefore, brush away their entangling webs, whenever and wherever you find them about your boxes.

Fowls should not be permitted in an apiary.

Early in spring let the entrance be not more than an inch, and increase it gradually to its full extent, as you find occasion: contract it again towards the fall of the year; and, if the moths be troublesome in summer evenings, nearly close it every evening; but take care to open it again either early next morning, or as soon as the evening flight of the moths is over. This attention is more particularly due to weak stocks, and affords them great protection against the attacks of moths, which are among the boldest, the most persevering, and, when once they have got into a hive, most destructive enemies to Bees.

Destroy wasps and wasps' nests wherever you find them in the vicinity of your apiary. The destruction of queen-wasps in spring is the most effectual method of diminishing the number of these formidable Bee-enemies; because the destruction of a queen-wasp in spring is tantamount to the destruction of a whole nest afterwards.

Light in the domicil of Bees, if not actually prejudicial to them, is, at any rate, displeasing to them; therefore, be careful never to expose your Bees unnecessarily to its glare: never leave the window-doors open, nor suffer careless visitors to do so.

My ingenious friend, the Rev. T. Clark, of Gedney-Hill, suggests the propriety of recommending that the window-doors be self-shutting doors. This, he says, may be done by fixing upon each door a light, easy spring, similar to those made use of to shut doors in good houses; or by a cord attached to each door, and passed through an eye, and over a small pulley fixed to the side of each box; from the end of which cord a weight of two or three ounces must be suspended. This weight, acting upon the cord, will draw the little doors to the windows, that is, it will shut them. The cords, eyes, and pulleys, he further says, may be so arranged, that one small weight will keep all the hive doors, in a set of collateral-boxes, closed and safe, and may be made to hang under the floor. I have no hesitation in recommending his suggestion as ingenious, practicable, and useful. The best security, however, after all, is that afforded by lock and key, the key being in the constant possession of the owner.

Ventilate your collateral-boxes and bell-glasses, when the interior temperature is at, or above, 70 degrees.

Never irritate your Bees, nor offer any sort of violence or opposition to them; and should an angry Bee or two at any time attack you, walk quietly away, and leave them to settle into peace again.

On no account drive your Bees; it is a ruinous practice. With boxes, however, I trust, it is impracticable, and totally superseded.

Never disturb, nor in any way interfere with, the middle-box.

On no account destroy any of your Bees: independently of its cruelty, it is an impolitic practice: it is like cutting down a tree to get at its fruit, which may easily be gathered by less laborious and indestructive means. Encourage your Bees,—accommodate them,—support them,—and by all means preserve them; and, when seasons are favourable, they will richly reward you for your attention to them.

Always keep a cottage-hive, or single box or two, in your apiary, for the purpose of having swarms from them, with which to stock empty boxes, or to strengthen such stocks as may stand in need of additional numbers; and proceed with such supplementary swarms as directed in pages 42-45.

Never impoverish your Bees by taking from them more honey than they have to spare. Always suffer them to be in possession of a plentiful store. Over-deprivation distresses them, and is no gain to the proprietor. Among other reasons this is one for my repeated directions—not to touch the middle-box.

Honey of the very finest quality may commonly be obtained from collateral-boxes, as early in the season as the months of May and June, without injuring the parent-stock in the slightest degree. The enlargement of their domicil by returning an empty glass, or an empty box, to the place from which a full one has been taken, is at this busy period of their labour an accommodation to Bees, and is one great means of preventing the necessity for their swarming, as it enables them to continue their work at the time that there is the greatest abundance of treasure for them in the fields, and when Bees in cottage-hives cannot profit by it, owing to their want, not of inclination to gather it, but of room in their hive to store it; they therefore swarm once, twice, perhaps three times. What then can be afterwards expected from such exhausted stocks but weakness and poverty? The more numerous the working Bees are in any colony, the more honey they will collect, provided they have room wherein to store it. Accommodate them, then, with convenient store-room, and the more workers you have in your boxes the better. Up to the middle of August you may, with safety, that is, without injury to the Bees, take off glasses and boxes, as they become ready. After that time it is advisable to have, and to leave, in every colony, honey sufficient for the subsistence of the Bees until next spring; and should you take off a full box, later in the season than the middle of August, instead of emptying it of all its treasure, be content with a part of it,—take a part, and return a part—share it with your Bees, and let their share be a liberal one. As has been already enjoined—on no account impoverish them by over-deprivation, at that precarious season especially. They possibly may collect much honey after that time; if so, share with them again; if not, have them rich from your first bounty.

When a box, well-stored with honey, is taken off, it is not an easy matter to extract the first comb or two, without breaking them and spoiling their beauty, besides shedding more or less of the honey; therefore, be prepared with proper knives. Any common knife that has a blade long enough, may serve to sever the combs from the sides of a box: but, to cut them from the top, it is advisable to have an instrument, which may be called a Bee-knife, of the following construction:—a two-edged, lancet-shaped blade, two inches long and three-eighths of an inch broad, having the hole, through which the rivet would pass to fix it in a haft, drilled large enough to admit the end of a steel rod, upon which it is to be well brazed or riveted: the other end of this rod may be finished with a neat handle, leaving its clear length between the contrate blade and the handle eleven inches—that being rather more than the depth of my Bee-boxes. A knife of this description may easily be passed between the combs, and is very convenient for cutting them from the top of a box.

Whenever you have occasion to perform any operation among your Bees, be provided with every requisite material, implement, &c. Have not any thing to seek for, much less to get made, at the moment it is wanted: that moment may perhaps be a critical one.

In September unite the Bees of poor stocks to rich ones; and now, or in March, transfer stocks from straw-hives into boxes.

Previously to withdrawing the tin-divider, for the purpose of opening the communication into an end-box, take off the end-box and dress its inside with a little liquid honey; this will bring the Bees into it, when, but for the honey, they would perhaps refuse to enter it; and at that time close the ventilation. It is wrong to ventilate empty boxes, because it drives the Bees into the pavilion: and it is a fact, that they will swarm from the pavilion, rather than take possession of an empty end-box, if its temperature be, and be kept, disagreeably cold, by having the ventilation open at the very time it should be carefully closed. This will both explain and remedy the difficulty, that some apiarians complain of having experienced, in getting their Bees to take possession of an empty box; it will also account for swarms sometimes leaving the pavilion when there is no want of room: the fact is—that the temperature of that room is not agreeable to them: but it is owing to the mismanagement of the apiator that it is otherwise than agreeable.

Whenever a box is taken off, be careful to open the perforations in the cylinder-ventilator, many of which will be found sealed up with propolis. These perforations may be cleared at any time, by introducing a piece of wire with a sharpened point, turned so as to pick out the propolis; but they are most effectually opened when a box is off.

Towards the latter end of November, or earlier, if the weather be inclement and severe, remove your Bee-boxes to their winter situation: this should be dry, quiet, cool, and dark, and place your boxes in it so that they may front towards the north or north-east.

Guard and close the entrance with a piece of fine wire-cloth, of Lariviere's patent tin, or of perforated zinc, (which is the best, on account of its not corroding) made fast to the box, either of which will confine the Bees within their domicil, admit plenty of fresh air, and keep out inimical intruders. Thus prepared for winter, having every tin and block in its proper place, disturb your Bees as little as possible, and, come winter as it may, they will pass it in that state of semi-insensibility, or torpor, which nature, or with reverence let me rather say—nature's God has appointed for them.

Towards the end of February, or as soon as vegetation begins to make its appearance, take your boxes from their winter to their summer stands, and commence another course of attentions, observations, and humane management, similar to that herein directed and explained. And, though cases may arise, and difficulties occur in the course of your practice, for the remedying of which no specific directions are, or can be, here given, your own experience and progressive improvement in the pleasing science of Bee-management, will lead you to adopt the proper mode of treating the former, and the proper means for surmounting the latter.

THE END.

H. AND J. LEACH, PRINTERS, WISBECH.