Swarming
The spring is the best period at which to commence an apiary, and swarming-time is a good starting-point for the new bee-keeper. The period known as the swarming season is during the months of May and June. With a very forward stock, and in exceedingly fine weather, bees do occasionally swarm in April. The earlier the swarm, the greater is its value. If bees swarm in July, they seldom gather sufficient to sustain themselves through the winter, though by careful feeding they may easily be kept alive, if hived early in the month.
The cause of a swarm leaving the stock-hive is, that the population has grown too large for it. Swarming is a provision of Nature for remedying the inconvenience of overcrowding, and is the method whereby the bees seek for space in which to increase their stores. By putting on “super-hives,” the required relief may, in many cases, be given to them; but should the multiplication of stocks be desired, the bee-keeper will defer increasing the space until the swarm has issued forth. In May, when the spring has been fine, the queen-bee is very active in laying eggs, and the increase in a strong, healthy hive is so prodigious that emigration is necessary, or the bees would cease to work.
It is now a well-established fact that the old queen goes forth with the first swarm, preparation having been made to supply her place as soon as the bees determine upon the necessity of a division of their commonwealth. Thus the sovereignty of the old hive, after the first swarm has issued, devolves upon a young queen.
As soon as the swarm builds combs in its new abode, the emigrant-queen, being impregnated and her ovaries full, begins laying eggs in the cells, and thereby speedily multiplies the labourers of the new colony. Although there is now amongst apiarians no doubt that the old queen quits her home, there is no rule as to the composition of the swarm: old and young alike depart. Some show unmistakable signs of age by their ragged wings, others their extreme youth by their lighter colour; how they determine which shall stay and which shall go has not yet been ascertained. In preparation for flight, bees commence filling their honey bags, taking sufficient, it is said, for three days’ sustenance. This store is needful, not only for food, but to enable the bees to commence the secretion of wax and the building of combs in their new domicile.
On the day of emigration, the weather must be fine, warm, and clear, with but little wind stirring; for the old queen, like a prudent matron, will not venture out unless the day is in every way favourable. Whilst her majesty hesitates, either for the reasons we have mentioned, or because the internal arrangements are not sufficiently matured, the bees will often fly about or hang in clusters at the entrance of the hive for two or three days and nights together, all labour meanwhile being suspended. The agitation of the little folk is well described by Evans:—
“See where, with hurried step, the impassioned throng
Pace o’er the hive, and seem, with plaintive song,
T’ invite the loitering queen; now range the floor,
And hang in cluster’d columns from the door;
Or now in restless rings around they fly,
Nor spoil thy sip, nor load the hollowed thigh;
E’en the dull drone his wonted ease gives o’er,
Flaps his unwieldy wings, and longs to soar.”
But when all is ready, a scene of the most violent agitation takes place; the bees rush out in vast numbers, forming quite a dark cloud as they traverse the air.
The time selected for the departure of the emigrants is generally between 10 A.M. and 3 P.M.; most swarms come off within an hour of noon. It is a very general remark that bees choose a Sunday for swarming, and probably this is because then greater stillness reigns around. It will not be difficult to imagine that the careful bee-keeper is anxious to keep a strict watch, lest he should lose such a treasure when once it takes wing. The exciting scene at a bee-swarming has been well described by the apiarian laureate:—
“Up mounts the chief, and, to the cheated eye,
Ten thousand shuttles dart along the sky;
As swift through æther rise the rushing swarms,
Gay dancing to the beam their sunbright forms;
And each thin form, still lingering on the sight,
Trails, as it shoots, a line of silver light.
High poised on buoyant wing, the thoughtful queen,
In gaze attentive, views the varied scene,
And soon her far-fetched ken discerns below,
The light laburnum lift her polished brow,
Wave her green leafy ringlets o’er the glade.
Swift as the falcon’s sweep the monarch bends
Her flight abrupt: the following host descends;
Round the fine twig, like clustered grapes they close
In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose.”
In many country districts it is a time-honoured custom for the good folks of the village to commence on such occasions a terrible noise of tanging and ringing with frying-pan and key. This is done with the absurd notion that the bees are charmed with the clangorous din, and may by it be induced to settle as near as possible to the source of such sweet sounds. This is, however, quite a mistake: there are other and better means for the purpose. The practice of ringing was originally adopted for a different and far more sensible object—viz., for the purpose of giving notice that a swarm had issued forth, and that the owner was anxious to claim the right of following, even though it should alight on a neighbour’s premises. It would be curious to trace how this ancient ceremony has thus got corrupted from the original design.
In case the bees do not speedily after swarming manifest signs of settling, a few handfuls of sand or loose mould may be thrown up in the air so as to fall among the winged throng; they mistake this for rain, and then very quickly determine upon settling. Some persons squirt a little water from a garden engine in’ order to produce the same effect.
There are, indeed, many ingenious devices used by apiarians for decoying the swarms. Mr. Langstroth mentions a plan of stringing dead bees together, and tying a bunch of them on any shrub or low tree upon which it is desirable that they should alight; another plan is, to hang some black woven material near the hives, so that the swarming bees may be led to suppose they see another colony, to which they will hasten to attach themselves. Swarms have a great affinity for each other when they are adrift in the air; but, of course, when the union has been effected, the rival queens have to do battle for supremacy. A more ingenious device than any of the above is by means of a mirror, to flash a reflection of the sun’s rays amongst a swarm, which bewilders the bees, and checks their flight. It is manifestly often desirable to use some of these endeavours to induce early settlement, and to prevent, if possible, the bees from clustering in high trees or under the eaves of houses, where it may be difficult to hive them.
Should prompt measures not be taken to hive the bees as soon as the cluster is well formed, there is danger of their starting on a second flight; and this is what the apiarian has so much to dread. If the bees set off a second time, it is generally for a long flight, often for miles, so that in such a case it is usually impossible to follow them, and consequently a valuable colony may be irretrievably lost.
Too much care cannot be exercised to prevent the sun’s rays falling on a swarm when it has once settled. If exposed to heat in this way, bees are very likely to decamp. We have frequently stretched matting or sheeting on poles, so as to intercept the glare, and thus render their temporary position cool and comfortable.
Two swarms sometimes depart at the same time, and join together; in such a case, we recommend that they be treated as one, by putting them into a hive as before described, taking care to give abundant room and not to delay affording access to the super hive or glasses. They will settle their own notions of sovereignty by one queen destroying the other. There are means of separating two swarms, if done at the time; but the operation is a formidable one, and does not always repay even those most accustomed to such manipulation.
With regard to preparations for taking a swarm, our advice to the bee-keeper must be the reverse of Mrs. Glass’s notable injunction as to the cooking of a hare. Some time before you expect to take a swarm, be sure to have a suitable hive in which to take it, and also every other requisite properly ready. Here we will explain what was said in the introduction as to the safety of moving and handling bees. A bee-veil or dress will preserve the most sensitive from the possibility of being stung. This article, which may be bought with the hives, is made of net close enough to exclude bees, but open enough for the operator’s vision. It is made to go over the hat of a lady or cap of a gentleman; it closes round the waist, and has sleeves fastening at the wrist. A pair of photographer’s india-rubber gloves completes the full dress of the apiarian, who is then invulnerable, even to enraged bees. But bees when swarming are in an eminently peaceful frame of mind; having dined sumptuously, they require to be positively provoked before they will sting. Yet there may be one or two foolish bees who, having neglected to fill their honey bags, are inclined to vent their ill-humour on the kind apiarian. When all is ready, the new hive is held or placed in an inverted position under the cluster of bees, which the operator detaches from their perch with one or two quick shakes; the floor-board is then placed on the hive, which is then slowly turned up on to its base, and it is well to leave it a short time in the same place, in order to allow of stragglers joining their companions.
If the new swarm is intended for transportation to a distance, it is as well for it to be left at the same spot until evening, provided the sun is shaded from it: but if the hive is meant to stand in or near the same garden, it is better to remove it within half an hour to its permanent position, because so eager are newly-swarmed bees for pushing forward the work of furnishing their empty house, that they sally forth at once in search of materials.
A swarm of bees, in their natural state, contains from 10,000 to 20,000 insects, whilst in an established hive of Italian bees they number 40,000 and upwards. Five thousand bees are said to weigh one pound; a good swarm will weigh from three to five pounds. We have known swarms not heavier than 2½ pounds that were in very excellent condition in August as regards store for the winter.
Hitherto, all our remarks have had reference to first or “prime” swarms; these are the best, and when a swarm is purchased, such should be bargained for.
Second swarms, known amongst cottage bee-keepers as “casts,” usually issue from the hive nine or ten days after the first has departed. It is not always that a second swarm issues, so much depends on the strength of the stock, the weather, and other causes; but should the bees determine to throw out another, the first hatched queen in the stock-hive is prevented by her subjects from destroying the other royal princesses, as she would do if left to her own devices. The consequence is that, like some people who cannot have their own way, she is highly indignant; and, when thwarted in her purpose, utters, in quick succession, shrill, angry sounds, much resembling “Peep, peep,” commonly called “piping,” but which more courtly apiarians have styled the vox regalis.
This royal wailing continues during the evening, and is sometimes so loud as to be distinctly audible many yards from the hive. When this is the case, a swarm may be expected either on the next day, or at latest within three days. The second swarm is not quite so chary of weather as the first; it was the old lady who exercised so much caution, disliking to leave home except in the best of summer weather.
In some instances, owing to favourable breeding seasons and prolific queens, a third swarm issues from the hive; this is termed a “colt:” and, in remarkable instances, even a fourth, which in rustic phrase is designated a “filly.” A swarm from a swarm is called a “maiden” swarm, and, according to bee theory, will again have the old queen for its leader.
The bee-master should endeavour to prevent his labourers from swarming more than once; his policy is rather to encourage the industrious gathering of honey, by keeping a good supply of “supers” on the hives. Sometimes, however, he may err in putting on the supers too early or unduly late, and the bees will then swarm a second time, instead of making use of the store-rooms thus provided. In such a case, the clever apiarian, having spread the swarm on the ground, will select the queen, and cause the bees to go back to the hive from whence they came. This operation requires an amount of apiarian skill which, though it may easily be attained, is greater than is usually possessed.