“For the first, there is only one bee in each hive. This bee, mother of
the whole population, is called the queen. She is distinguished from the
workers by a large body and the absence of working implements. Her
business is to lay eggs. She has as many as twelve hundred at a time in
her body, and others keep on forming as fast as the first are laid. What
a formidable business is the queen’s! But then, what respectful
attentions, what tender care the other bees show to their common mother!
They feed the noble mother by the mouthful; they give her of the best,
for she has not time to gather for herself, and, to tell the truth,
would not know how to do it if she had. To lay and lay is her one and
only function.
[Illustration: Drone]
“The business of father falls to six or eight hundred idlers called
drones. They are larger than the workers and smaller than the queen.
Their large bulging eyes join together on the top of the head. They have
no sting. Only the queen and the workers have the right to carry the
poisoned stiletto. The drones are deprived of this weapon. One asks,
what use are they? One day they form a retinue of honor to the queen,
who takes a fancy to fly through the air; then hardly anything more is
heard of them. They perish miserably in the open, or, if they return to
the hive, are coldly received by the workers, who look at them unkindly
for exhausting the provisions without ever adding to them. At first they
treat them to some smart blows to show them that idlers are not wanted
in a working society; and if they fail to understand, a resolution is
taken. One fine morning they kill every one of them. The bodies are
swept out of the hive, and that’s the end of it.
[Illustration: Worker]
“Now come the workers, about twenty or thirty thousand bees to one
queen. These are called working-bees. They are the ones you see in the
garden flying from one flower to another, gathering the harvest. Other
workers, a little older and consequently more experienced, remain in the
hive to look after the housekeeping and to distribute nourishment to the
nurslings hatched from the eggs laid by the queen. There are, then, two
bodies of workers to be distinguished: the wax-bees, younger, which make
wax and gather the materials for honey; the nurses, older, which stay at
home to bring up the family. These two kinds of workers are not mutually
exclusive. When young, full of ardor, adventurous, the bee follows the
trade of wax-maker. It goes to the fields, seeking viands, visits the
flowers, or sometimes is forced to assert itself and unsheath its sting,
to put to flight some evil-intentioned aggressor; it sweats wax to make
the storehouse and the little rooms where the brood of young ones is
kept. Growing older, it gains experience, but loses its first ardor.
Then it stays at home, turns nurse, and occupies itself with the
delicate task of rearing the young.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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