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The Swarm: Thorley
As a rule bees do not sting when swarming, and Thorley The Swarm tells in a very melodramatic manner how a swarm of bees once settled upon the breast and neck of a young girl who was helping him hive them. She, being afraid, had placed a cloth over her head and shoulders, and it so happened that the queen-bee crawled under this cloth and was tempestuously followed by the whole swarm. "It is not in my power," says Thorley, " to tell the Confusion and Distress of Mind I was in, from the awful Apprehensions it raised; and her Dread and Terror in such Circumstances may reasonably be supposed to be much more. Every moment she was at the Point of retiring with all the Bees about her. Vain Thought! To escape by Flight. She might have left the Place indeed, but could not the Company; and the Remedy would have been much worse than the Disease. Had she enraged them, all Resistance had been in Vain, and nothing less than her Life would have atoned for the Offence. And now to have had that Life (in so much Jeopardy) insured, what would I not have given?"
Her life was saved, however, by Thorley's finding and removing the queen, when the swarm left their unwilling hostess to follow their rightful sovereign. The girl's reward was to become a local heroine and lose forever all fear of bees !
Butler describes the coming forth of the queen from the hive at the time of swarming with a pen more worthy of a novelist than of a naturalist. He tells us that when two thirds or three fourths of the swarm have departed, "the music ceaseth and then cometh forth this stately dame: who, walking a turn or two before the door (of purpose, you would think, to be seen) she takes her leave; leaving but a small train to follow her, which hie them after as fast as they can. "This decent order, the great lords of the earth seem to have learned of this little lady: who, in their courtly progress, going to Parliament, and other solemn processions, do send the greatest and fairest part of their retinue before them, leaving behind but a small troupe of necessary attendants, to guard their persons." The well-known habits of pounding on kettles and reflecting light upon a swarm may not really cause it to settle in these days, but Virgil's advice to throw a little dust upon them is good, though a more certain measure is to cause a smart shower from the garden hose to strike them, when down they come in a hurry, wondering, no doubt, what kind of storm this is that bursts out of a clear sky with no "signs" to warn them of its approach. They do not generally swarm excepting in fair weather, and it may be that when dust is thrown they mistake it for some eccentric sort of storm.
Pounding on kettles, however, has its advocates still, and there are those who contend that a loud noise prevents the note of the queen from being heard, and disconcerts the swarm to the point of causing it to settle.
The excitement of swarming is great enough to increase the heat several degrees, Huber having discovered the temperature of a populous hive on a fine spring day to be from 90° to 97°, while at the swarming time it rises to 104°.