Langstroth on the Hive and the Honey-Bee: A Bee Keeper's Manual — 18 - Ch. 11 The Bee-Moth, And Other Enemies Of Bees. Diseases Of Bees, part 2

In order to ascertain all the important points connected with the habits of the bee-moth, I have purposely deprived colonies in some of my observing hives, of their queen, and have thus reduced them to a state of despair, that I might closely watch all their proceedings.

I have invariably found that in this state, they have made little or no resistance to the entrance of the bee-moth, but have allowed her to deposit her eggs, just where she pleased.

The worms, after hatching, have always appeared to be even more at home than the poor dispirited bees themselves, and have grown and thrived, in the most luxurious manner.

In some instances, these colonies, so far from losing all spirit to resent other intrusions, were positively the most vindictive set of bees in my whole Apiary.

One especially, assaulted every body that came near it, and when reduced in numbers to a mere handful, seemed as ready for fight as ever.

How utterly useless then, for defending a queenless colony against the moth, are all the traps and other devices which have been, of late years, so much relied upon.

If a single female gains admission, she will lay eggs enough to destroy in a short time, the strongest colony that ever existed, if once it has lost its queen, and has no means of procuring another.

But not only do the bees of a hive which is hopelessly queenless, make little or no opposition to the entrance of the bee-moth, and to the ravages of the worms, but by their forlorn condition, they positively invite the attacks of their destroyers.

The moth seems to have an instinctive knowledge of the condition of such a hive, and no art of man can ever keep her out.

She will pass by other colonies to get at the queenless one, for she seems to know that there she will find all the conditions that are necessary to the proper development of her young.

There are many mysteries in the insect world, which we have not yet solved; nor can we tell just how the moth arrives at so correct a knowledge of the condition of the queenless hives in the Apiary.

That such hives, very seldom, maintain a guard about the entrance, is certain; and that they do not fill the air with the pleasant voice of happy industry, is equally certain; for even to our dull ears, the difference between the hum of the prosperous hive, and the unhappy note of the despairing one, is sufficiently obvious.

May it not be even more obvious to the acute senses of the provident mother, seeking a proper place for the development of her young?

The unerring sagacity of the moth, closely resembles that peculiar instinct by which the vulture and other birds that prey upon carrion, are able to single out a diseased animal from the herd, which they follow with their dismal croakings, hovering over its head, or sitting in ill-omened flocks, on the surrounding trees, watching it as its life ebbs away, and stretching out their filthy and naked necks, and opening and snapping their blood-thirsty beaks that they may be all ready to tear out its eyes just glazing in death, and banquet upon its flesh still warm with the blood of life!

Let any fatal accident befall an animal, and how soon will you see them, first from one quarter of the heavens, and then from another, speeding their eager flight to their destined prey, when only a short time before, not a single one could be seen or heard.

I have repeatedly seen powerful colonies speedily devoured by the worms, because of the loss of their queen, when they have stood, side by side with feeble colonies which being in possession of a queen, have been left untouched!

That the common hives furnish no available remedy for the loss of the queen, is well known: indeed, the owner cannot, in many cases, be sure that his bees are queenless, until their destruction is certain, while not unfrequently, after keeping bees for many years, he does not even so much as believe that there is such a thing as a queen bee!

In the Chapter on the Loss of the Queen, I shall show in what way this loss can be ascertained, and ordinarily remedied, and thus the bees be protected from that calamity which more than all others, exposes them to destruction.

When a colony has become hopelessly queenless, then moth or no moth, its destruction is absolutely certain.

Even if the bees retained their wonted industry in gathering stores, and their usual energy in defending themselves against all their enemies, their ruin could only be delayed for a short time.

In a few months, they would all die a natural death, and there being none to replace them, the hive would be utterly depopulated.

Occasionally, such instances occur in which the bees have died, and large stores of honey have been found untouched in their hives.

This, however, but seldom happens: for they rarely escape from the assaults of other colonies, even if after the death of their queen, they do not fall a prey to the bee-moth.

A

motherless hive is almost always assaulted by stronger stocks, which seem to have an instinctive knowledge of its orphanage, and hasten at once, to take possession of its spoils.

(See Remarks on Robbing.

) If it escape the Scylla of these pitiless plunderers, it is soon dashed upon a more merciless Charybdis, when the miscreant moths have ascertained its destitution.

Every year, large numbers of hives are bereft of their queen, and every year, the most of such hives are either robbed by other bees, or sacked by the bee-moth, or first robbed, and afterwards sacked, while their owner imputes all the mischief that is done, to something else than the real cause.

He might just as well imagine that the birds, or the carrion worms which are devouring his dead horse, were actually the primary cause of its untimely end.

How often we see the same kind of mistake made by those who impute the decay of a tree, to the insects which are banqueting upon its withering foliage; when often these insects are there, because the disease of the tree has both furnished them with their proper aliment, and deprived the plant of the vigor necessary to enable it to resist their attack.

The bee keeper can easily gather from these remarks, the means upon which I most rely, to protect my colonies from the bee-moth.

Knowing that strong stocks supplied with a fertile queen, are always able to take care of themselves, in almost any kind of hive, I am careful to keep them in the state which is practically found to be one of such security.

If they are weak, they must be properly strengthened, and confined to only as much space as they can warm and defend: and if they are queenless, they must be supplied with the means of repairing their loss, or if that cannot be done, they should be at once broken up, (See Remarks on Queenlessness, and Union of Stocks,) and added to other stocks.

It cannot be too deeply impressed upon the mind of the bee-keeper, that a small colony ought always to be confined to a small space, if we wish the bees to work with the greatest energy, and to offer the stoutest resistance to their numerous enemies.

Bees do most unquestionably, "abhor a vacuum," if it is one which they can neither fill, warm nor defend.

Let the prudent bee-master only keep his stocks strong, and they will do more to defend themselves against all intruders, than he can possibly do for them, even if he spends his whole time in watching and assisting them.

It is hardly necessary, after the preceding remarks, to say much upon the various contrivances to which so many resort, as a safeguard against the bee-moth.

The idea that gauze-wire doors, to be shut daily at dusk, and opened again at morning, can exclude the moth, will not weigh much with one who has seen them flying and seeking admission, especially in dull weather, long before the bees have given over their work for the day.

Even if the moth could be excluded by such a contrivance, it would require, on the part of those who rely upon it, a regularity almost akin to that of the heavenly bodies in their courses; a regularity so systematic, in short, as either to be impossible, or likely to be attained but by very few.

An exceedingly ingenious contrivance, to say the least, to remedy the necessity for such close supervision, is that by which the movable doors of all the hives are governed by a long lever in the shape of a hen-roost, so that the hives may all be closed seasonably and regularly, by the crowing and cackling tribe, when they go to bed at night, and opened at once when they fly from their perch, to greet the merry morn.

Alas!

that so much ingenuity should be all in vain!

Chickens are often sleepy, and wish to retire sometime before the bees feel that they have completed their full day's work, and some of them are so much opposed to early rising, either from ill-health, or downright laziness, that they sit moping on their roost, long after the cheerful sun has purpled the glowing East.

Even if this device were perfectly successful, it could not save from ruin, a colony which has lost its queen.

The truth is, that almost all the contrivances upon which we are instructed to rely, are just about equivalent to the lock carefully put upon the stable door, after the horse has been stolen; or to attempts to prevent corruption from fastening upon the body of an animal, after the breath of life has forever departed.

Are there then no precautions to which we may resort, except by using hives which give the control over every comb?

Certainly there are, and I shall now describe them in such a manner as to aid all who find themselves annoyed by the inroads of the bee-moth.

Let the prudent bee-master be deeply impressed with the very great importance of destroying _early_ in the season, the larvæ of the bee-moth.

"Prevention is," at all times, "better than cure": a single pair of worms that are permitted to undergo their changes into the winged insect, may give birth to some hundreds which before the close of the season, may fill the Apiary with thousands of their kind.

The destruction of a single worm early in the Spring, may thus be more efficacious than that of hundreds, at a later period.

If the common hives are used, these worms must be sought for in their hiding places, under the edges of the hive; or the hive may be propped up, on the two ends, with strips of wood, about three eighths of an inch thick; and a piece of old woolen rag put between the bottom-board and the back of the hive.

Into this warm hiding place, the full grown worm will retreat to spin its cocoon, and it may then be very easily caught and effectually dealt with.

Hollow sticks, or split joints of cane may be set under the hives, so as to elevate them, or may be laid on the bottom-board, and if they have a few small openings through which the bees cannot enter, the worms will take possession of them, and may easily be destroyed.

Only provide some hollow, inaccessible to the bees, but communicating with the hive and easily accessible to the worms when they want to spin, and to yourself when you want them, and if the bees are in good health, so that they will not permit the worms to spin among the combs, you can, with ease, entrap nearly all of them.

If the hive has lost its queen, and the worms have gained possession of it, you can do nothing for it better than to break it up as soon as possible, unless you prefer to reserve it as a moth trap to devastate your whole Apiary.

I make use of blocks of a peculiar construction, in order both to entrap the worms, and to exclude the moth from my hives.

The only place where the moth can enter, is just where the bees are going in and out, and this passage may be contracted so as to suit the size of the colony: the very shape of it is such that if the moth attempts to force an entrance, she is obliged to travel over a space which is continually narrowing, and of course, is more and more easily defended by the bees.

My traps are slightly elevated, so that the heat and odor of the hive pass under them, and come out through small openings into which the moth can enter, but which do not admit her into the hive.

These openings, which are so much like the crevices between the common hives and their bottom-boards, the moth will enter, rather than attempt to force her way through the guards, and finding here the nibblings and parings of comb and bee-bread, in which her young can flourish, she deposits her eggs in a place where they may be reached and destroyed.

All this is on the supposition that the hive has a healthy queen, and that the bees are confined to a space which they can warm and defend.

If there are no guards and no resistance, or at best but a very feeble one, she will not rest in any outer chamber, but will penetrate to the very heart of the citadel, and there deposit her seeds of mischief.

These same blocks have also grooves which communicate with the _interior_ of the hives, and which appear to the prowling worm in search of a comfortable nest, just the very best possible place, so warm and snug and secure, in which to spin its web, and "bide its time."

When the hand of the bee-master lights upon it, doubtless it has reason to feel that it has been caught in its own craftiness.

If asked how much will such contrivances help the careless bee-man, I answer, not one iota; nay, they will positively furnish him greater facilities for destroying his bees.

Worms will spin and hatch, and moths will lay their eggs, under the blocks, and he will never remove them: thus instead of traps he will have most beautiful devices for giving more effectual aid and comfort to his enemies.

Such persons, if they ever attempt to keep bees on my plans, should use only my smooth blocks, which will enable them to control, at will, the size of the entrance to the hives, and which are exceedingly important in aiding the bees to defend themselves against moths and robbers, and all enemies which seek admission to their castle.

Let me, however, strongly advise the thoroughly and incorrigibly careless, to have nothing to do with bees, either on my plan of management, or any other; for they will find their time and money almost certainly thrown away; unless their mishaps open their eyes to the secret of their failure in other things, as well as in bee-keeping.

If I find that the worms, by any means have got the upper hand in one of my hives, I take out the combs, shake off the bees, route out the worms and restore the combs again to the bees: if there is reason to fear that they contain eggs and small worms, I smoke them thoroughly with sulphur, and air them well before they are returned.

Such operations, however, will very seldom be required.

Shallow vessels containing sweetened water, placed on the hives after sunset, will often entrap many of the moths.

Pans of milk are recommended by some as useful for this purpose.

So fond are the moths of something sweet, that I have caught them _sticking fast_ to pieces of moist sugar-candy.

I cannot deny myself the pleasure of making an extract from an article[24] from the pen of that accomplished scholar, and well-known enthusiast in bee-culture, Henry K. Oliver, Esq.

"We add a few words respecting the enemies of bees.

The mouse, the toad, the ant, the stouter spiders, the wasp, the death-head moth, (Sphinx atropos,) and all the varieties of gallinaceous birds, have, each and all, "a sweet tooth," and like, very well, a dinner of raw bee.

But the ravages of all these are but a baby bite to the destruction caused by the bee-moth, (Tinea mellonella.

) These nimble-footed little mischievous vermin may be seen, on any evening, from early May to October, fluttering about the apiary, or running about the hives, at a speed to outstrip the swiftest bee, and endeavoring to effect an entrance into the door way, for it is within the hive that their instinct teaches them they must deposit their eggs.

You can hardly find them by day, for they are cunning and secrete themselves.

"They love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil."

They are a paltry looking, insignificant little grey-haired pestilent race of wax-and-honey-eating and bee-destroying rascals, that have baffled all contrivances that ingenuity has devised to conquer or destroy them."

"Your committee would be very glad indeed to be able to suggest any effectual means, by which to assist the honey-bee and its friends, against the inroads of this, its bitterest and most successful foe, whose desolating ravages are more lamented and more despondingly referred to, than those of any other enemy.

Various contrivances have been announced, but none have proved efficacious to any full extent, and we are compelled to say that there really is no security, except in a very full, healthy and vigorous stock of bees, and in a very close and well made hive, the door of which is of such dimensions of length and height, that the nightly guards can effectually protect it.

Not too long a door, nor too high.

If too long, the bees cannot easily guard it, and if too high, the moth will get in over the heads of the guards.

If the guards catch one of them, her life is not worth insuring.

But if the moths, in any numbers, effect a lodgment in the hive, then the hive is not worth insuring.

They immediately commence laying their eggs, from which comes, in a few days, a brownish white caterpillar, which encloses itself, all but its head, in a silken cocoon.

This head, covered with an impenetrable coat of scaly mail, which bids defiance to the bees, is thrust forward, just outside of the silken enclosure, and the gluttonous pest eats all before it, wax, pollen, and exuviæ, until ruin to the stock is inevitable.

As says the Prophet Joel, speaking of the ravages of the locust, "the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness."

Look out, brethren, bee lovers, and have your hives of the best unshaky, unknotty stock, with close fitting joints, and well covered with three or four coats of paint.

He who shall be successful in devising the means of ridding the bee world of this destructive and merciless pest, will richly deserve to be crowned "King Bee," in perpetuity, to be entitled to a never-fading wreath of budding honey flowers, from sweetly breathing fields, all murmuring with bees, to be privileged to use, during his natural life, "night tapers from their waxen thighs," best wax candles, (two to the pound!

) to have an annual offering from every bee-master, of ten pounds each, of very best virgin honey, and to a body guard, for protection against all foes, of thrice ten thousand workers, all armed and equipped, as Nature's law directs.

Who shall have these high honors?"

It might seem highly presumptuous for me, at this early date, to lay claim to them, but I beg leave to enroll myself among the list of honorable candidates, and I cheerfully submit my pretensions to the suffrages of all intelligent keepers of bees.

In the chapter on Requisites, I have spoken of the ravages of the mouse, and have there described the way in which my hives are guarded against its intrusion.

That some kinds of birds are fond of bees, every Apiarian knows, to his cost; still, I cannot advise that any should, on this account, be destroyed.

It has been stated to me, by an intelligent observer, that the King-bird, which devours them by scores, confines himself always, in the season of drones, to those fat and lazy gentlemen of leisure.

I fear however, that this, as the children say, "is too good news to be true," and that not only the industrious portion of the busy community fall a prey to his fatal snap, but that the luxurious gourmand can distinguish perfectly well, between an empty bee in search of food, and one which is returning full laden to its fragrant home, and whose honey-bag sweetens the delicious tit-bit, as the crushed unfortunate, all ready sugared, glides daintily down his voracious maw!

Still, I have never yet been willing to destroy a bird, because of its fondness for bees; and I advise all lovers of bees to have nothing to do with such foolish practices.

Unless we can check among our people, the stupid, as well as inhuman custom of destroying so wantonly, on any pretence, and often on none at all, the insectivorous birds, we shall soon, not only be deprived of their aerial melody, among the leafy branches, but shall lament over the ever increasing horde of destructive insects, which ravage our fields and desolate our orchards, and from whose successful inroads, nothing but the birds can ever protect us.

Think of it, ye who can enjoy no music made by these winged choristers of the skies, except that of their agonizing screams, as they fall before your well-aimed weapons, and flutter out their innocent lives before your heartless gaze!

Drive away as fast and as far as you please, from your cruel premises, all the little birds that you cannot destroy, and then find, if you can, those who will sympathize with you, when the caterpillars weave their destroying webs over your leafless trees, and insects of all kinds riot in glee, upon your blasted harvests!

I hope that such a healthy public opinion will soon prevail, that the man or boy who is armed with a gun to shoot the little birds, will be scouted from all humane and civilized society, and if he should be caught about such contemptible business, will be too much ashamed even to look an honest man in the face.

I shall close what I have to say about the birds, with the following beautiful translation of an old Greek poet's address to the swallow.

"Attic maiden, honey fed, Chirping warbler, bear'st away, Thou the busy buzzing bee, To thy callow brood a prey?

Warbler, thou a warbler seize?

Winged, one with lovely wings?

Guest thyself, by Summer brought, Yellow guest whom Summer brings?

Wilt not quickly let it drop?

'Tis not fair, indeed 'tis wrong, That the ceaseless warbler should Die by mouth of ceaseless song."

_Merivale's Translation.

_ I have not the space to speak at length of the other enemies of the honied race: nor indeed is it at all necessary.

If the Apiarian only succeeds in keeping his stocks strong, they will be their own best protectors, and if he does not succeed in this, they would be of little value, even if they had no enemies ever vigilant, to watch for their halting.

Nations which are both rich and feeble, invite attack, as well as unfit themselves for vigorous resistance.

Just so with the commonwealth of bees.

Unless amply guarded by thousands ready to die in its defence, it is ever liable to fall a prey to some one of its many enemies, which are all agreed in this one opinion, at least, that stolen honey is much more sweet than the slow accumulations of patient industry.

In the Chapters on Protection and Ventilation, I have spoken of the fatal effects of dysentery.

This disease can always be prevented by proper caution on the part of the bee-keeper.

Let him be careful not to feed his bees, late in the season, on liquid honey, (see Chapter on Feeding,) and let him keep them in dry and thoroughly protected hives.

If his situation is at all damp, and there is danger that water will settle under his Protector, let him build it entirely _above ground_;

otherwise it may be as bad as a damp cellar, and incomparably worse than nothing at all.

There is one disease, called by the Germans, "foul brood," of which I know nothing, by my own observation, but which is, of all others, the most fatal in its effects.

The brood appear to die in the cells, after they are sealed over by the bees, and the stench from their decaying bodies infects the hive, and seems to paralyze the bees.

This disease is, in two instances, attributed by Dzierzon, to feeding bees on "American Honey," or, as we call it, Southern Honey, which is brought from Cuba, and other West India Islands.

That such honey is not ordinarily poisonous, is well known: probably that used by him, was taken from diseased colonies.

It is well known that if any honey or combs are taken from a hive in which this pestilence is raging, it will most surely infect the colonies to which they may be given.

No foreign honey ought therefore to be extensively used, until its quality has been thoroughly tested.

The extreme violence of this disease may be inferred from the fact, that Dzierzon in one season, lost by it, between four and five hundred colonies!

As at present advised, if my colonies were attacked by it, I should burn up the bees, combs, honey, frames, and all, from every diseased hive; and then thoroughly scald and smoke with sulphur, all such hives, and replenish them with bees from a healthy stock.

There is a peculiar kind of dysentery which does not seem to affect a whole colony, but confines its ravages to a small number of the bees.

In the early stages of this disease, those attacked are excessively irritable, and will attempt to sting any one who comes near the hives.

If dissected, their stomachs are found to be already discolored by the disease.

In the latter stages of this complaint, they not only lose all their irascibility, but seem very stupid, and may often be seen crawling upon the ground unable to fly.

Their abdomens are now unnaturally swollen, and of a much lighter color than usual, owing to their being filled with a yellow matter exceedingly offensive to the smell.

I have not yet ascertained the cause of this disease.

FOOTNOTES:

[21] Bevan.

[22] Bevan.

[23] A bee, a few days after it is hatched, is as fully competent for all its duties, as it ever will be, at any subsequent period of its life.

[24] Report on bees to the Essex County Agricultural Society, 1851.