Langstroth on the Hive and the Honey-Bee: A Bee Keeper's Manual — 11 - Ch. 10 (1) Natural Swarming, And Hiving Of Swarms, part 1

CHAPTER X. NATURAL SWARMING, AND HIVING OF SWARMS.

The swarming of bees has been justly regarded as one of the most beautiful sights in the whole compass of rural economy.

Although, for reasons which will hereafter be assigned, I prefer to rely chiefly on artificial means for the multiplication of colonies, I should be very unwilling to pass a season without participating, to some extent, in the pleasing excitement of natural swarming.

"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 sun-bright forms;

And each thin form, still ling'ring on the sight, Trails, as it shoots, a line of silver light.

High pois'd on buoyant wing, the thoughtful queen, In gaze attentive, views the varied scene, And soon her far-fetch'd ken discerns below The light laburnum lift her polish'd brow, Wave her green leafy ringlets o'er the glade, And seem to beckon to her friendly shade.

Swift as the falcon's sweep, the monarch bends Her flight abrupt; the following host descends.

Round the fine twig, like cluster'd grapes, they close In thickening wreaths, and court a short repose."

_Evans.

_ The swarming of bees, by making provision for the constant multiplication of colonies, was undoubtedly intended both to guard the insect against the possibility of extinction, and to make its labors in the highest degree useful to man.

The laws of reproduction in those insects which do not live in regular colonies, are such as to secure an ample increase of numbers.

The same is true in the case of hornets, wasps and humble-bees which live in colonies only during the warm weather.

In the Fall of the year, all the males perish, while the impregnated females retreat into winter quarters and remain dormant, until the warm weather restores them to activity, and each one becomes the mother of a new family.

The honey bee differs from all these insects, in being compelled, by the laws of its physical organization, to live in communities, during the entire year.

The balmy breezes of Spring will quickly thaw out the frozen veins of a torpid Wasp; but the bee is incapable of enduring even a moderate degree of cold: a temperature as low as 50° speedily chills it, and it would be quite as easy to recall to life the stiffened corpses in the charnel house of the Convent of the Great St. Bernard, as to restore to animation, a frozen bee.

In cool weather, they must therefore associate in large numbers, in order to maintain the animal heat which is necessary to their preservation; and the formation of new colonies, after the manner of wasps and hornets, is clearly impossible.

If the young queens left the parent stock in Summer, and were able, like the mother-wasps, to lay the foundations of a new colony, they could not maintain the warmth requisite for the development of their young, even if they were able, without any baskets on their thighs, to gather bee-bread for their support.

If all these difficulties were surmounted, they would still be unable to amass any treasures for our use, or even to lay up the stores requisite for their own preservation.

How admirably are all these difficulties obviated by the present arrangement!

Their domicile is well supplied with all the materials for the rearing of brood, and long before any of the insects which depend upon the heat of the sun, are able to commence breeding, the bees have added thousands in the full vigor of youth to their already numerous population.

They are thus able to send off in season, colonies sufficiently powerful to take advantage of the honey-harvest, and provision the new hive against the approach of Winter.

From these considerations, it is very evident that swarming, so far from being, as some Apiarians have considered it, a forced or unnatural event, is one, which in a state of nature, could not possibly be dispensed with.

Let us now inquire under what circumstances it ordinarily takes place.

The time when swarms may be expected, depends of course, upon climate, season, and the strength of the stocks.

In the Northern and Middle States, bees seldom swarm before the latter part of May; and June may be considered as the great swarming month.

The importance of having powerful swarms early in the season, will be discussed in another place.

In the Spring, as soon as a hive well filled with comb and bees, becomes too much crowded to accommodate its teeming population, the bees begin the necessary preparations for emigration.

A number of royal cells are commenced about the time that the drones first make their appearance;

and by the time that the young queens arrive at maturity, the drones are always found in the greatest abundance.

The first swarm is invariably led off by the old queen, unless she has previously died from accident or disease, in which case, it is accompanied by one of the young queens reared to supply her loss.

The old mother leaves soon after the royal cells are sealed over, unless delayed by unfavorable weather.

There are no signs from which the Apiarian can, with certainty, predict the issue of a first swarm.

I devoted annually, much attention to this point, vainly hoping to discover some infallible indications of first swarming;

until taught by further reflection that, from the very nature of the case, there can be no such indications.

The bees, from an unfavorable state of the weather, or the failure of the blossoms to yield an abundant supply of honey, often change their minds, and refuse to swarm, even after all their preparations have been completed.

Nay more, they sometimes send out no new colonies that season, when a sudden change of weather has interrupted them on the very day when they were intending to emigrate, and after they had taken a full supply of honey for their journey.

If on a fair, warm day in the swarming season, but few bees leave a strong hive, while other colonies are busily at work, we may, unless the weather suddenly prove unfavorable, look with great confidence for a swarm.

As the old queens, which accompany the first swarm, are heavy with eggs, and fly with considerable difficulty, they are shy of venturing out, except on fair, still days.

If the weather is very sultry, a swarm will sometimes issue as early as 7 o'clock in the morning; but from 10 to 2, is the usual time, and the majority of swarms come off from 11 to 1. Occasionally, a swarm will venture out as late as 5 P.

M.

An old queen is seldom guilty of such a piece of indiscretion.

I have in repeated instances witnessed the whole process of swarming, in my observing hives.

On the day fixed for their departure, the queen appears to be very restless, and instead of depositing her eggs in the cells, she travels over the combs, and communicates her agitation to the whole colony.

The emigrating bees fill themselves with honey, some time before their departure: in one instance, I noticed them laying in their supplies, more than two hours before they left.

A short time before the swarm rises, a few bees may generally be seen, sporting in the air, with their heads turned always to the hive, occasionally flying in and out, as though they were impatient for the important event to take place.

At length, a very violent agitation commences in the hive: the bees appear almost frantic, whirling around in a circle, which continually enlarges, like the circles made by a stone thrown into still water, until at last the whole hive is in a state of the greatest ferment, and the bees rush impetuously to the entrance, and pour forth in one steady stream.

Not a bee looks behind, but each one pushes straight ahead, as though flying "for dear life," or urged on by some invisible power, in its headlong career.

The queen often does not come out, until a large number have left, and she is frequently so heavy, from the large number of eggs in her ovaries, that she falls to the ground, incapable of rising with the colony into the air.

The bees are very soon aware of her absence, and a most interesting scene may now be witnessed.

A diligent search is immediately made for their missing mother; the swarm scatters in all directions, and I have frequently seen the leaves of the adjoining trees and bushes, almost as thickly covered with the anxious explorers, as they are with drops of rain after a copious shower.

If she cannot be found, they return to the old hive, though occasionally they attempt to enter some other hive, or join themselves to another swarm if any is still unhived.

The ringing of bells, and beating of kettles and frying-pans, is one of the good old ways more honored by the breach than the observance; it may answer a very good purpose in amusing the children, but I believe that as far as the bees are concerned, it is all time thrown away; and that it is not a whit more efficacious than the custom practiced by some savage tribes, who, when the sun is eclipsed, imagining that it has been swallowed by an enormous dragon, resort to the most frightful noises, to compel his snake-ship to disgorge their favorite luminary.

If a swarm has selected a new home previous to their departure, no amount of _noise_ will ever compel them to alight, but as soon as all the bees which compose the emigrating colony have left the hive, they fly in a direct course, or "bee-line," to the chosen spot.

I have noticed that when bees are much neglected by those who pretend to take care of them, such unceremonious leave-taking is quite common; on the contrary, when proper attention is bestowed on them, it seldom occurs.