CHAPTER XIV. [305]
ROBBING.

Bees are exceedingly prone to rob each other, and unless suitable precautions are used to prevent it, the Apiarian will often have cause to mourn over the ruin of some of his most promising stocks. The moment a departure is made from the old-fashioned mode of managing bees, the liability to such misfortunes is increased, unless all operations are performed by careful and well informed persons.

Before describing the precautions which I successfully employ, to guard my colonies from robbing each other, or from being robbed by bees from a strange Apiary, I shall first explain under what circumstances they are usually apt to plunder each other.

bees are idle, but, unlike many humans, not because they are too lazy to work, but because they can find nothing to do. Unless there is some gross mismanagement, on the part of their owner, they seldom attempt to live upon stolen sweets, when they have ample opportunity to reap the abundant harvests of their own honest industry.

In this chapter, I shall be obliged, however much against my will, to acknowledge [306] that some branches of morals in my little friends, need very close watching, and that they too often make the lowest sort of distinction, between "mine and thine." Still I feel bound to show that when thus overcome by temptation, it is almost always, under circumstances in which their careless owner is by far the most to blame.

In the Spring, as soon as the bees are able to fly abroad, "innatus urget amor habendi," as Virgil has expressed it; that is, they begin to feel the force of an innate love of honey-getting. They can find nothing in the fields, and they begin at once, to see if they cannot appropriate the spoils of some weaker hive. They are often impelled to this, by the pressure of immediate want, or the salutary dread of approaching famine: but truth obliges me to confess that not unfrequently some of the strongest stocks, which have more than they would be able to consume, even if they gathered nothing more for a whole year, are the most anxious to prey upon the meager possessions of some feeble colony. Just like some rich men who have more money than they can ever use, urged on by the insatiable love of gain, "oppress the hireling in his wages, the widow and the fatherless," and spin on all sides, their crafty webs to entrap their poorer neighbors, who seldom escape from their toils, until every dollar has been extracted from them, and as far as their worldly goods are concerned, they resemble the skins and skeletons which line the nest of some voracious old spider.

When I have seen some powerful hive of the kind just described, condemned by its owner, in the Fall, to the sulphur pit, or deprived unexpectedly of its queen, its stores plundered, and its combs eaten up by the worms, I have often thought of the threats which God has denounced against those who make dishonest gains "their hope, and say unto the fine gold, Thou art my confidence." [307]

In order to prevent colonies from attempting to rob, I always examine them in the Spring, to ascertain that they have honey and are in possession of a fertile queen. If they need food they are supplied with it, (see Chapter on Feeding,) and if they are feeble or queenless, they are managed according to the directions previously given. Bees seem to have an instinctive perception of the weakness of a colony, and like the bee-moth, they are almost certain to attack such stocks, especially when they have no queen. Hence I can almost always tell that a colony is queenless, by seeing robbers constantly attempting to force an entrance into it.

It requires some knowledge of the habits of bees, to tell from their motions, whether they are flying about a strange hive with some evil intent, or whether they belong to the hive before which they are hovering. A little experience however, will soon enable us to discriminate between the honest inhabitants of a hive, and the robbers which so often mingle themselves among the crowd. There is an unmistakable air of roguery about a thieving bee, which to the observing Apiarian, proclaims the nature of his calling, just as truly as the appearance of a pickpocket in a crowd, enables the experienced police officer to distinguish him from the honest folks, on whom he intends to exercise his skill.

There is a certain sneaking look about a rogue of a bee, almost indescribable, and yet perfectly obvious. It does not alight on the hive, and boldly enter at once like an honest bee which is carrying home its load. If they could only assume such an appearance of transparent honesty, they would often be allowed by the unsuspecting door-keepers to enter unquestioned, to see all the sights within, and to help themselves to the very fat of the land. But there is a sort of nervous haste, and guilty agitation in all their movements: [308] they never alight boldly upon the entrance board, or face the guards which watch the passage to the hive; they know too well that if caught and overhauled by these trusty guardians of the hive, their lives would hardly be worth insuring; hence their anxiety to glide in, without touching one of the sentinels. If detected, as they have no password to give, (having a strange smell,) they are very speedily dealt with, according to their just deserts. If they can only effect a secret entrance, those within take it for granted that all is right, and seldom subject them to a close examination.

Sometimes bees which have lost their way, are mistaken by the inexperienced, for robbers; there is however, a most marked distinction between the conduct of the two. The arrant rogue when caught, attempts with might and main, to pull away from his executioners, while the poor bewildered unfortunate shrinks into the smallest compass, like a cowed dog, and submits to whatever fate his captors may see fit to award him.

The class of dishonest bees which I have been describing, may be termed the "Jerry Sneaks" of their profession, and after they have followed it for some time, they lose all disposition for honest pursuits, and assume a hang-dog sort of look, which is very peculiar. Constantly employed in creeping into small holes, and daubing themselves with honey, they often lose all the bright feathers and silky plumes which once so beautifully adorned their bodies, and assume a smooth and almost black appearance; just as the hat of the thievish loafer, acquires a "seedy" aspect, and his garments, a shining and threadbare look. Dzierzon is of opinion that the black bees which Huber describes, as being so bitterly persecuted by the rest, are nothing more [309]than these thieving bees. I call them old convicts, dressed in prison garments, and incurably given up to dishonest pursuits.

Bees sometimes act the part of highway robbers; some half dozen or more of them, will waylay and attack a poor humble-bee which is returning with a sack full of honey to his nest, like an honest trader, jogging home with a well filled purse. They seize the poor bee, and give him at once to understand that they must have the earnings of his industry. They do not slay him. Oh no! they are much too selfish to endanger their own precious persons; and even if they could kill him, without losing their weapons, they would still be unable to extract his sweets from the deep recesses of his honey bag: they therefore begin to bite and teaze him, after the most approved fashion, all the time singing in his ears, "not your money," but, "your honey or your life;" until utterly discouraged, he delivers up his purse, by disgorging his honey from its capacious receptacle. The graceless creatures cry "hands off," and release him at once, while they lick up his spoils and carry it off to their home.

The remark is frequently made that were rogues to spend half as much time and ingenuity in gaining an honest living, as they do, in seeking to impose upon their fellow-men, their efforts would often be crowned with abundant success. Just so of many a dishonest bee. If it only knew its true interests, it would be safely roving the smiling fields, in search of honey, instead of longing for a tempting and yet dangerous taste of forbidden sweets.

Bees sometimes carry on their depredations on a more magnificent scale. Having ascertained the weakness of some neighboring colony, through the sly intrusions of those who have entered the hive to spy out all "the nakedness of the land," they prepare themselves for war, in the shape of [310] a pitched battle. The well-armed warriors sally out by thousands, to attack the feeble hive against which they have so unjustly declared a remorseless warfare. A furious onset is at once made, and the ground in front of the assaulted hive is soon covered with the dead and dying bodies of innumerable victims. Sometimes the baffled invaders are compelled to sound a retreat; too often however, as in human contests, right proves but a feeble barrier against superior might; the citadel is stormed, and the work of rapine and pillage forthwith begins. And yet after all, matters are not nearly so bad, as at first they seem to be. The conquered bees, perceiving that there is no hope for them in maintaining the unequal struggle, submit themselves to the pleasure of the victors; nay more, they aid them in carrying off their own stores, and are immediately incorporated into the triumphant nation! The poor mother however, is left behind in her deserted home, some few of her children which are faithful to the last, remaining with her, to perish by her side, amid the sad ruins of their once happy home!

If the bee-keeper is unwilling to have his bees so demoralized, that their value will be seriously diminished, he will be exceedingly careful to do all that he possibly can to prevent them from robbing each other. He will see that all queenless colonies are seasonably broken up in the Spring, and all weak ones strengthened, and confined to a space which they can warm and defend. If once his bees get a taste of forbidden sweets, they will seldom stop until they have tested the strength of every stock, and destroyed all that they possibly can. Even if the colonies are able to defend themselves, many bees will be lost in these encounters, and a large waste of time will invariably follow; for bees whether engaged in attempting to rob, or in battling against the robbery of others, are, to a very great extent, cut off both [311] from the disposition and the ability to engage in useful labors. They are like nations that are impoverished by mutual assaults on each other: or in which the apprehension of war, exerts a most blighting influence upon every branch of peaceful industry.

I place very great reliance on the movable blocks which guard the entrance to my hive, to assist colonies in defending themselves against robbing bees, as well as the prowling bee-moth. These blocks are triangular in shape, and enable the Apiarian to enlarge or contract the entrance to the hive, at pleasure. In the Spring, the entrance is kept open only about two inches, and if the colony is feeble, not more than half an inch. If there is any sign of robbers being about, the small colonies have their entrances closed, so that only a single bee can go in and out at once. As the bottom-board slants forwards, the entrance is on an inclined plane, and the bees which defend it, have a very great advantage over those which attack them; the same in short, that the inhabitants of a besieged fortress would have in defending a pass-way similarly constructed. As only one bee can enter at a time, he is sure to be overhauled, if he attempts ever so slyly to slip in: his credentials are roughly demanded, and as he can produce none, he is at once delivered over to the executioners. If an attempt is made to gain admission by force, then as soon as a bee gets in, he finds hundreds, if not thousands, standing in battle array, and he meets with a reception altogether too warm for his comfort. I have sometimes stopped robbing, even after it had proceeded so far that the assaulted bees had ceased to offer any successful resistance, by putting my blocks before the entrance, and permitting only a single bee to enter at once: the dispirited colony have at once recovered heart, and have battled so stoutly and successfully, as to beat off their assailants. [312]

When bees are engaged in robbing a hive, they will often continue their depredations to as late an hour as possible, and not unfrequently some of them return home so late with their ill-gotten spoils, that they cannot find the entrance to their own hive. Like the wicked man who "deviseth mischief on his bed, and setteth himself in a way that is not good," they are all night long, meditating new violence, and with the very first peep of light, they sally out to complete their unlawful doings.

Sometimes the Apiarian may be in doubt whether a colony is being robbed or not, and may mistake the busy numbers that arrive and depart, for the honest laborers of the hive; but let him look into the matter a little more closely, and he will soon ascertain the true state of the case: the bees that enter, instead of being heavily laden, with bodies hanging down, unwieldy in their flight, and slow in all their movements, are almost as hungry looking as Pharaoh's lean kine, while those that come out, show by their burly looks, that like aldermen who have dined at the expense of the City, they are filled to their utmost capacity.

If the Apiarian wishes to guard his bees against the fatal propensity to plunder each other, he must be exceedingly careful not to have any combs filled with honey unnecessarily exposed. An ignorant or careless person attempting to multiply colonies on my plan, will be almost sure to tempt his bees to rob each other. If he leaves any of the combs which he removes, so that strange bees find them, they will, after once getting a taste of the honey, fly to any hive upon which he begins to operate, and attempt to appropriate a part of its contents. (See p. 304.) I have already stated that when they can find an abundance of food in the fields, bees are seldom inclined to rob; for this reason, with proper precautions, it is not difficult to perform all the operations which are necessary on my plan of management, at [313] the proper season, without any danger of demoralizing the bees. If however, they are attempted when honey cannot be obtained, they should be performed with extreme caution, and early in the morning, or late in the evening; or if possible, on a day when the bees are not flying out from their hives. I have sometimes seen the most powerful colonies in an Apiary, either robbed and destroyed, or very greatly reduced in numbers, by the gross carelessness or ignorance of their owner. He neglects to examine his hives at the proper season, and the bees begin to rob a weak or queenless stock: as soon as they are at the very height of their nefarious operations, he attempts to interfere with their proceedings, either by shutting up the hive, or by moving it to a new place. The air is now filled with greedy and disappointed bees, and rather than fail in obtaining the expected treasures, they assail with almost frantic desperation, some of the neighboring stocks: in this way, the most powerful colonies are sometimes utterly ruined, or if they escape, thousands of bees are slain in defending their treasures, and thousands more of the assailants meet with the same untimely end.

If the Apiarian perceives that one of his colonies is being robbed, he should at once contract the entrance, so that only a single bee can get in at a time; and if the robbers still persist in entering, he must close it entirely. In a few minutes the outside of the hive will be black with the greedy cormorants, and they will not abandon it, until they have explored every crevice, and attempted to force themselves through even the smallest openings. Before they assail a neighboring colony, they should be sprinkled with cold water, and then instead of feeling courage for new crimes, they will be glad to escape, thoroughly drenched, to their proper [314]homes. Unless the bees that are shut up can, as in my hives, have an abundance of air, it will be necessary to carry them at once into a dark and cool place. Early next morning the condition of the hive should be examined, and the proper remedies if it is weak or queenless should be applied; or if its condition is past remedy, it should at once be broken up, and the bees united to another stock.

I have been credibly informed of an exceedingly curious kind of robbing among bees. Two colonies, both in good condition, seemed determined to appropriate each other's labors: neither made any resistance to the entrance of the plundering bees; but each seemed too busily intent upon its own dishonest gains, to notice[26] that the work of subtraction kept pace with that of addition. An intelligent Apiarian stated to me this singular fact as occurring in his own Apiary. This is a very near approximation to the story of the Kilkenny cats. Alas! that there should be so much of equally short-sighted policy among human beings; individuals, communities and nations seeking often to thrive by attempting to prey upon the labors of others, instead of doing all that they can, by industry and enterprise, to add to the common stock. I have never, in my own experience, met with an instance of such silly pilfering as the one described; but I have occasionally known bees to be carrying on their labors, while others were stealing more than the occupants of the hive were gathering, without their being aware of it.