Every Boy's Book: A Complete Encyclopaedia of Sports and Amusements Part 76

PARROTS.

PIGEONS.

POULTRY.

RABBITS.

RAVENS.

SILKWORMS.

SQUIRRELS.

WHITE MICE.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR DOMESTIC PETS.]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

BEES AND BEE-KEEPING.

In treating of that useful insect the honey-bee, we will first explain briefly the domestic economy of the hive, and the distinction between the different individuals composing the entire colony, and then pa.s.s on to the more practical details of bee-keeping.

A beehive contains three kinds of individuals--a queen, drones, and workers. The queen is a female, and is the mother of the community. The drones are males, and the working bees neuters, being neither males nor females. During the warmer part of the year the queen seems to be incessantly employed in laying eggs. She is slow and majestic in her motions, and differs from the workers in having a larger and longer body, shorter wings, and a curved sting.

The drones are males; though much more bulky, they are not so long as the queen, but much larger than the working bees. They live on honey, but bring none home. When the season for swarming has pa.s.sed, the workers expel them from the hive, and none make their appearance till the following spring.

The working bees are the smallest in the hive and by far the most numerous; and they do the entire work of the community--they build the cells, guard the hive and the queen, collect and store the honey, elaborate the wax, feed the young, and expel the drones. The average number of these three kinds of bees in a hive is one queen, two thousand drones, and ten to twenty thousand workers, the numbers varying with the strength of the hive and the season.

For the greater part of the year the queen lays only workers' eggs; but during the spring she also lays those which produce drones. As soon as this takes place, the workers begin to construct royal cells, in which, without discontinuing to lay the drone eggs, the queen deposits eggs which are destined to produce queens.

[Ill.u.s.tration: QUEEN BEE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DRONE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: WORKING BEE.]

The workers' eggs hatch in a few days, and produce little white maggots, which immediately open their mouths to be fed; these the workers attend to with the greatest care. In six days each maggot fills up its cell; it is then roofed in by the workers, spins a silken coc.o.o.n and becomes a chrysalis, and on the twenty-first day it comes forth a perfect bee. The drones emerge on the twenty-fifth day, and the queens on the sixteenth.

The combs of a beehive comprise a number of hexagonal cells, built by the bees as receptacles for honey and for the nurseries of their young.

Each comb in a hive is composed of two ranges of cells, backed against each other. There is a continued series of these double cells in every well-filled hive, the s.p.a.ces between them being just sufficient to allow two bees, one on the surface of each comb, to pa.s.s without touching.

Each cell is six-sided, the six sides being perfectly equal. This is one of the geometrical figures that ensures the greatest economy of material and the largest s.p.a.ce. The construction of several combs is usually going on at the same time, until the hive is filled. The cells of the drones are larger than those designed for the workers; and those designed for the hatching of the young queens pear-shaped, with the small end downwards. The finest honey is stored in new cells constructed for the purpose of receiving it.

The usual modes of establis.h.i.+ng an apiary are, either by the purchase of stock or of swarms. When intending to purchase a stock, do not buy upon recommendation, but learn to judge for yourself. If you observe the bees crowding in and out of the hive during the middle of the day, a considerable number of them having little yellow pellets or b.a.l.l.s on their hinder legs, a very favourable opinion may be formed of the health and condition of the interior, and especially of the prolific state of the queen. If the bees appear savage, and bold in their attacks, it is a good sign.

In the purchase of swarms the young bee-keeper must beware of imposition; for it very often happens that, instead of having the _first swarm_, he is cheated by having a second thrust upon him. This is seldom so large; but it has the advantage of a young queen, as the old queen always goes off with the first swarm. A good swarm generally numbers about twenty thousand bees, and may in country places be obtained for from half-a-guinea to a guinea.

There are several distinct systems of bee-keeping, each of which requires a short notice. First, the old-fas.h.i.+oned plan of keeping the bees in a common bell-shaped straw hive, or skep. When this method is followed, the hives are usually allowed to stand for two summers; at the end of the second season the bees are destroyed by the fumes of burning sulphur, and the honey taken. The plan is a very bad one, as the honey obtained is mixed with bee bread, is rank in flavour, and dark in colour, and is never worth more than about sixpence per pound.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

A great improvement is to have the hives made with flat tops, like the straw hive shown at the right hand of the engraving. When the bees are first hived, this is closed by a straw mat. In the spring of next year, when the bees become numerous and cl.u.s.ter round the entrance, this mat is removed, and a small hive, termed a "super," or a box or gla.s.s, neatly furnished with a piece or two of clear empty comb, is put over; the bees ascend into this, build combs, which they store with pure virgin honey, without brood or bee bread; and this, when full, is removed, leaving the stock below undisturbed for the next season. In our engraving the artist has drawn this hive too small; it should have been as large as the common skeps which are shown on the left-hand side.

Flat-topped hives, that are able to be supered, may be made of wood, like a common box. One of these is shown on the ground, and two, placed one over the other, are shown behind the flat-topped straw hive. In Ayrs.h.i.+re, where they are very skilled in bee-management, they use eight-sided boxes, with narrow slides to close the openings in the top.

These boxes are placed one over the other, and large tops of pure virgin honey, twenty to thirty pounds in weight, are not unfrequently taken off. The back hive in our group is one with side boxes, or, as it is sometimes called, a collateral hive. These are the most expensive in first cost, and the least productive of all the varieties. The cottage hives, with three little gla.s.ses, instead of one large one, are only playthings, and not at all productive.

Frame hives, in which each comb is placed in a separate frame, so that it can be taken out and examined, are very useful for making observations on the natural history of the bees, but are not so well suited for profitable purposes as the hives that we have described that are arranged in storey or with large supers.

In removing a super of honey, it should be first loosened from the hive by drawing a thin string between the two; and then, when the bees have become quiet, taken quietly away, and covered over, until those remaining in it have discovered that they are away from the queen, when they will rapidly fly back to the hive, on being uncovered. But the honey must not be left exposed, or it would attract all the bees in the neighbourhood, and would rapidly be stored up in the hives.

In taking off the supers, it is best to be protected from the stings of the bees. This is readily done by making a bag of leno, open at top and bottom; in use, the top is tied round the hat, the bag encircles the head and face, and the bottom is tucked under the collar of the coat, which is b.u.t.toned closely round the neck. In this manner the face is perfectly protected from stings; but with the knowledge, quietness, and confidence acquired by practice, almost anything can be done to bees by a skilled bee-master, even without a veil.

THE CANARY.

The canary is a justly favoured pet among boys, for it is a hardy bird that requires a very small amount of trouble. It is a pleasant, fascinating little being, full of quaint ways and sprightly att.i.tudes, and, better than all, the cage is its native element.

Though an ardent admirer of all birds, and indeed of everything which draws the breath of life, we can never pa.s.s the cage wherein is confined a lark, a nightingale, a bullfinch, or any other of our indigenous birds, without a feeling of sadness and regret.

They are not cage birds, and never ought to be confined within the narrow limits of wood and wire. Their att.i.tudes show their uneasiness.

The mellow, exultant tone of the skylark sounds as joyously when the bird is imprisoned within a cage as when it soars high in air, its wings quivering in the breeze, its frame rejoicing in the glory of the sunbeams, and its ken surveying the wide panorama which lies spread beneath its gaze. But the gestures of the bird are full of eloquent misery, and speak volumes to him who will stop and look with his eyes as well as listen with his ears.

See how the bird flings itself upwards from the little patch of turf, which is but a shallow mockery of the green sward to which the skylark is accustomed--how it dashes itself against the roof of green baize, which represents so feebly the expanse of azure sky--and how it learns at last the lessons of experience, and stands helplessly in the bay window of the cage, its wings s.h.i.+vering restlessly, and its feet trampling impatiently, in lieu of the the upward leap and soaring flight which it longs to undertake, but which it will never more be permitted to experience. No more will it roam through the wide expanse of air, no more will it seek for its mate, and know all the joys of nest and children. Henceforth it is but a prisoner in solitary confinement, without hope of escape, and its very individuality destroyed by surrounding circ.u.mstances.

So with the generality of our cage birds. The man who would imprison the nightingale, who would limit to one spot the bird that loves to wander, and who would condemn to solitary confinement the creature which is peculiarly destined for conjugal affection, which finds expression in liquid melody, ought to be imprisoned for a month or two, just to see how _he_ likes it. "I can't get out," is the lament uttered in silent gesture by all birds that ought to roam in wild freedom, and have been imprisoned in a cage. We always wish to open the cage door, and set free the prisoner; at all events, to remove it to some spot where it might be liberated without danger to itself.

But with the canary the case is different. The pretty little bird never has known wider freedom than that of the cage, and a humane bird-keeper will endow it with increased freedom by enlarging the size of its dwelling. The free use of wings has never been known to the bird, nor even to its parents; and the perch is to the canary more familiar than the bough. Release an imprisoned lark, and after the first few moments of surprise it will speed away exulting in its freedom. Release a nightingale or a thrush, and it will dart swiftly to the well-known shelter of the woods. But release a canary, and you have committed an act of positive cruelty. The poor bird knows not where to go or how to procure its food. Throughout all its little life it has been accustomed to reside within the narrow limits of its cage, and to find its food and water prepared without any expenditure of labour. Consequently, it has no idea of searching for food, but sits bewildered on a branch of some tree, and would perish with hunger simply because it does not know how to procure food.

Ignorance is ever the parent of fear, and a canary-bird has been known to perish of hunger when removed to a large from a small cage, simply because it dared not fly down from the comparatively lofty perch on which it had settled when first introduced, and to which it clung with the tenacity of fear. Even the genuine British soldier can hardly be more helpless when deprived of ordinary military routine than is a canary-bird when set free and forced to fly alone into the world.

The very colour of the bird prevents it from obtaining food like others of the same tribe. All the small birds are absurdly jealous of novelty, and will mob and worry any feathered being to which they are not accustomed. You may a.s.semble a crowd of them at any time by fixing a comb of scarlet cloth on the head of a sparrow, and glueing a few scarlet hackles into its tail. The little birds will always gather round an owl that has made its appearance in the daytime, and will scold the intruder until one would think that their throats would be hoa.r.s.e. Their anger towards the owl is, however, mitigated by a wholesome dread of its beak and talons, and it may therefore be imagined that when they find a little yellow bird sitting all alone on a branch, and looking bewildered at the position in which it finds itself, they are not very likely to lose so excellent an opportunity of bullying a foreigner without danger to themselves. Successive generations of captivity have rendered the canary unfit for freedom, and therefore the young naturalist need not think himself cruel because he keeps the bird in a cage.

As to cages, the simple form which has already been described in vol. i.

p. 21 of "Every Boy's Magazine" will be found amply sufficient for all purposes. The wires, however, should be closer together than is required for squirrels, so that the cat may not be able to dart her lithe paw between them and hook out the inmates. The size of the cage is of little consequence, except that you can never make it too large. If a whole room can be given up to the birds, the better they will be pleased and the brighter they will look; and, if possible, it should be lighted from above.

Wherever the birds may be placed, ventilation is of the greatest consequence. We remember being once summoned to give our opinion upon the continued illness of some canaries of which every care was taken.

They had fresh water daily, were plentifully supplied with sand, and were fed with the proper seeds, and cresses, groundsel, and other green meat, and yet they drooped and moped, and never seemed well. No fault could be found with the arrangements, and therefore we looked for the cause of illness in another direction. The air of the room seemed very close when I entered it, and on examination we found that there was no outlet whatever, the chimney having been blocked up and the windows carefully shut, in order to prevent the birds from escaping. We at once recommended that a pane of gla.s.s should be removed at the top of the window, and a piece of perforated zinc inserted instead; and when this was done the birds recovered themselves, and resumed their normal aspect.

The two secrets--if secrets they can be called--in bird-keeping are a good supply of fresh food and water and perfect cleanliness. The former necessaries can be easily insured in a very simple manner, and should be made after the pattern of the accompanying figures. Both are founded on the same principle--namely, that of self-feeding from a reservoir.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 1.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fig. 2.]

The seed-box is thus constructed. Get an old cigar-box, from which the aroma of tobacco has been removed by long airing, and take off the lid and the whole of one side; cut off two-thirds of the lid-piece, bore three holes in it, and fix it where the lid was, as at _a_; cut the rest of the lid in two, and fix the pieces in the box, so as to separate it into three compartments, fixing them with glue and a few very tiny brads. You should use pieces of slender bra.s.s wire for the purpose. If you left the box in this condition all the seed would run out at the round holes, and you must therefore correct that error.

How this is done will be seen in fig. 2, which gives a section of the seed-box.

Cut a squared piece of wood, which will just slide into the part.i.tion, so as to make a flat flooring to it. But, instead of laying it flat, place it in a sloping direction, as seen at _d_, so that a small s.p.a.ce is left between the end of the floor and the back of the box. The reader will see that when the seed is poured into the part.i.tion it will drop through the open s.p.a.ce at the back, and fall into the bottom of the box. The birds put their heads through the holes to eat the seeds, and as fast as they peck them away below, more fall from above and supply the deficiency.

In the front, and above the holes, fix a piece of gla.s.s, which is represented by _b_ in fig. 2, and which is seen in its place in fig. 1.

The object of the gla.s.s is to permit the bird-keeper to see when there is a sufficiency of seed. The sloping top is also of gla.s.s, which is fixed by a strip of American leather, acting as a hinge. It is made of gla.s.s, and set at a sharp angle, in order to prevent the birds from perching on it, which they are certain to do if they can find the least foothold. It will be found that the best cement wherewith to fix the gla.s.s is gold-size, and that a coat or two of black sealing-wax varnish makes a nice finish to the job.

The holes through which the birds feed should not be much larger than the size of their heads. The reason of this arrangement is that the canaries are apt to sh.e.l.l the seeds while their heads are over the vessel in which the food is contained, so that the husks fall among the seed, and it is not easy to discover when the supply is exhausted. But no diurnal bird will feed in the dark, and as the canary effectually darkens each hole by introducing its head, it will not crack and eat the seed until it has withdrawn its head and restored itself to light.