VI. Miscellaneous Information
Stings: Their Prevention and Cure
Some of our readers may deem us neglectful in having, as it were, left them to struggle through their bee-keeping novitiate without informing them how to avoid being stung by their docile but well-armed flock. Of course, having described the bee-dress, we have supposed that the apiarian was clad, if not “in complete steel,” at least in the head-gear and gloves, which will render him invulnerable. The best safeguard from the anger of bees—as, indeed, from the malice of men—is a quiet and peaceable spirit. The apiarian will learn to handle his bees not only as “if he loved them,”—as the quaint angler says—but as if he fully believes that the bees love him. This they will do whenever he approaches and treats them gently. There are some cases of exception to this generally peaceable disposition of the bee; perchance a few bees are dyspeptic, and refuse to be pacified, let their master seek to bribe them never so wisely. Then, too, sometimes the bee-master himself may be dyspeptic, which the unerring olfactory sense of the bees speedily detects, and their anger is immediately aroused. Some few persons, owing to constitutional peculiarities in their breath or insensible perspiration, are objects of constant animosity with bees, who, by driving them from the apiary, are giving a physician’s advice without charge for a fee. Some of the choicest perfumes used by ladies are offensive to bees; and one may feel very certain that the “fine puss gentleman,” who disgusted the brave Hotspur with his “pouncet-box” and praise of “’parmaceti for an inward bruise,” would have been speedily driven from an apiary in ignominious flight. Occasionally, even a skilful apiarian may inadvertently crush a single bee; such a mischance is detected by the community with much more facility than by any “crowner’s quest,” and their prompt verdict decrees the summary punishment of the offender. There would be much less fear of stings if it were always remembered that bees are never aggressive. “Defence, not defiance,” is their motto. They scarcely ever attempt to sting when away from the hive, and very seldom indeed at the time of swarming, for then they are gorged with honey. When molested by angry bees, do not attempt to beat them off; the safest and best retreat is a green bush. Thrust your head into this, or if no such refuge be near, in an emergency, throw yourself on the ground, and, with face downwards, the bees will soon leave you.
Yet some people appear to think they must inevitably be stung if they meddle with bees and for their sakes it is needful to explain why it is that a sting is painful, and how the wound inflicted by the bee may be cured. Those familiar with the usual microscopic objects will know how marvellously delicate, and yet effective, is the mechanical structure of a bee’s sting. (See page 46.) This weapon, as we see it with our naked eye—finer than a needle’s point—is only the sheath, which lengthens or contracts like the tubes of a telescope. The dart, as before said, is barbed on each side, so that the bee, when very angry, is scarcely ever able to withdraw it, but
“Deems life itself to vengeance well resigned;
Dies on the wound, and leaves the sting behind.”
There are, indeed, some happy mortals whose “blood such an even tenour keeps,” that a bee-sting is to them simply a puncture, and nothing more. Dr. Bevan has suggested that lovers should subject themselves to the ordeal of a bee-sting, in order to prove, we suppose, that their temper is proof against “the stings and arrows of any outrageous fortune” that matrimony can bring.
It is the homoeopathically minute tincture of poison injected by the bee which causes inflammation. The first thing to do is, to remove the sting, which, even when detached from the bee, will continue to penetrate still further into the wound. Next, press the hollow point of a watch-key exactly over the place stung; this will express a considerable portion of the virus. Then dip the hand, or bathe the part with cold or tepid water, for the poison is volatile, and will thereby be dissipated to a great extent. On no account whatever should the part affected be rubbed; to do that will diffuse the poison and increase the inflammation. The specific remedy for a bee-sting is taught us by chemistry: the venom is an acid which an alkali will immediately neutralize when brought into contact with it. Spirits of hartshorn will generally be found effectual for the purpose, and should always be kept in an apiary. There are also several other remedies more or less effectual, according to the special constitution of the patient. A strong infusion of tobacco-water applied to the wound after the sting has been extracted is a specific for many persons; others find relief from the application of a sliced onion.
We have heard the remark from several who have kept bees for years, that the poison from a sting has little or no effect on them; after receiving many inflictions, their flesh appears to become so little affected, that the swelling and pain at one time experienced no longer trouble them.