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The Swarm: Aristotle

The woodpecker is said to insert its tongue into any seductive crack in the hive and draw forth the honey, though it is not accused of taking the bees as well. The bird known as the "bee-eater" bears its guilt in its name, while from the time of Aristotle the swallow has borne the reproach of being a bee-eater; and an old Greek poet was moved to make it the following well-known address, - "Attic maiden, honey-fed, Chirping warbler, bear'st away Thou the busy buzzing bee, To thy callow brood a prey ?

Warbler, thou a warbler seize ?

Winged, one with lovely wings?

Guest thyself, by summer brought, Yellow guest whom summer brings Wilt not quickly let it drop? 'T is not fair, indeed, 't is wrong, That the ceaseless warbler should Die by mouth of ceaseless song."

In the East Indies and Southern Africa dwells a clever little bird that, greatly desiring honey or young bees, yet fearing to be stung, points out the bee-tree to the hunters, receiving as reward a part of the spoil.

Toads, frogs, and tree-frogs are not averse to a meal of bees, and Aristotle accuses the toad of great duplicity in The Swarm accomplishing its evil design, "for it blows into the entrance of the hive, and watches for and destroys them as they fly out!"

This is more than can be claimed for modern toads, though they do sometimes stand near the hives for the purpose of appropriating stragglers. There are different opinions concerning the effect of bee stings upon toads, some saying they do them no harm. But an eye-witness relates the following tragic circumstance. A toad sitting in the sun suddenly cocked its eye at a bee that alighted near it. After a second's hesitation it shot forth its tongue and the bee disappeared, but not to die inglorious and unavenged, for presently the toad raised a protesting hand and rubbed its throat which at once began to swell in an amazing manner. The toad exhibited signs of the greatest distress and finally leaped up and fell over on its back dead, - a very much bloated and disfigured amphibian.

This particular toad may have been uncommonly sensitive to bee-poison, or the bee may have inserted its sting directly into a blood-vessel. But whatever the cause there is no question as to the result.

Huish brings in a verdict of guilty against the toad by relating that he once killed one under a hive and found nineteen undigested bees in its stomach, while some one else convicted a graceless batrachian of having swallowed twenty.

Columella advises constructing the hive so as to "guard against the deceit and craft of the lizard, who, like a watch or keeper of the entry, and gaping for his prey, with open mouth destroys the bees as they go out."

From the time of Aristotle wasps have been known as the enemies of bees, and Thorley says of the hornet, - "She flies about the Colonies of Hives, watching her Opportunity, then seizes a bee, and carries her away, as the Hawk does the little Bird."

Sad to relate, bees often fight with their neighbors and steal their honey, and they have been known to drain the nest of the bumble-bee of its stores. Yea, they even catch the home-coming bombus and torment her, four or five of them pulling her wings and biting her until she opens her mouth and yields up the very drop she is carrying. It is said the bumble-bees do not resist these onslaughts from their smaller and more intelligent neighbors.

Hive-bees do resent the intrusion of robbers from other hives, however, and there sometimes occur terrific battles on this account. This was known to the ancients, and according to Pliny, - "If food happens to fail the inhabitants of any particular hive, the swarm makes a concerted attack upon a neighboring one, with the view of plundering it. The swarm that is thus attacked at once ranges itself in battle array, and if the bee-keeper should happen to be present, that side which perceives itself favored by him will refrain from attacking him. They often fight, too, for other reasons as well, and the two generals are to be seen drawing up their ranks in battle-array against their opponents. The dispute generally arises in culling from the flowers, when each, the moment that it is in danger, summons its companions to its aid. The battle, however, is immediately put an end to by throwing dust among them, or raising a smoke."

Bee-keepers in this age cannot rely upon immunity from attack by the swarm they desire to favor, nor are modern bees led in battle by their "generals" nor any governing power excepting their own insatiable desire to sting whatever living thing they can get hold of. Fights between swarms are terrible affairs in which one would do well not to interfere without careful preparation. The Swarm Thorley was "a witness of fatal Battles, of More than two Days' Continuance, occasioned by a strange swarm forcing their way into a single Hive or Colony." "Shirach very gravely recommends it to apiarists whose hives are attacked by these depredators, to give the bees some honey mixed with brandy or wine, to increase and inflame their courage, that they may more resolutely defend their property against their piratical assailants."

Spiders are sometimes a nuisance to bee-keepers, but the worst insect enemy of the bee is undoubtedly the moth.

In Europe the death's head moth enters the hives and causes havoc. Huber tells at length of a war waged by his bees against this moth by building barricades of propolis the years the moth were abundant, and tearing them down those seasons when the enemy failed to appear.

The most destructive of all moths, however, is the socalled wax-moth. These little nuisances, of which there are two kinds, one half an inch, the other an inch long, flutter about the hives at dusk seeking an opportunity to enter, and if they succeed in doing so they deposit their eggs in crevices of the hive. As soon as the eggs hatch, the naked caterpillar-like larvæ begin to feast on wax, breaking down the combs and causing general destruction. The little rascals spin a web about themselves which they cover on the outside with their own excretions and bits of wax, making a safe gallery in which to hide their tender bodies, and which they enlarge to suit their needs. They put forth their horny heads, devour wax, and grow apace. They are the only creatures, so far as we know, that are able to digest wax, but they find it quite suitable to their development, supplementing it by bee-bread and the cast-off skins of the larval bees. When these enemies get entrance to a hive they in time reduce its contents to a cobwebby mass of most disagreeable and dirty appearance, totally destroying the swarm of bees.

Seen with an unprejudiced eye, the wax-moth is a pretty, silky-gray little creature that darts about with amazing swiftness, but probably no bee-keeper has ever looked at it dispassionately, as it is one of the worst pests he has to contend with. The list of those that relish honey and take it at the expense of the bee would not be complete without adding that according to report the native Mexicans were once fond of taking their honey along with the bee, eating eggs and larvæ, and that to this day the Hottentots do the same. In the "Curious History of Insects" we read the following: - "Bees have also been employed as an article of food. Knox tells us that the natives of Ceylon, when they meet with a swarm of bees hanging on a tree, hold burning torches under them to make them drop; and so catch and carry them home where they boil and eat them, in their estimation, as excellent food."

Again, - "Peter Martyr, speaking of the Caribbean Islands, says: 'The inhabitants willingly eat the young bees, rawe, roasted, or sodden.'” And, - "Bancroft tells us that when the negroes of Guiana are stung by bees, they in revenge eat as many as they can catch."

In White's "Natural History of Selborne" we read of an idiot boy whose only intelligence was shown in skill in beecatching. He would catch the bees in his fingers and eat them for the honey in their sacs. He would overturn hives for the sake of honey, and like the tomtit would rap at the entrance and catch the sentinels when they came forth. The Swarm He would linger about the place where metheglin was being made, and beg for it, calling it "bee-wine." He ran about, making a humming noise like the buzzing of bees with his lips, and was utterly stupid in everything excepting the getting of honey.

In the opinion of Thorley, "The last and worst Enemies of all are their most ingrateful, unjust, cruel, and merciless Owners, who annually destroy them by wholesale without the least Pity or Compassion. A practise I absolutely disapprove and publickly condemn."