Walter Flavius McCaleb

“ Still hoping beyond hope, we tried to create a Queen from the eggs—all in vain. The eggs we now [113] found deposited freely—one, two, or half-a-dozen in a cell—were the eggs of an impostor, a would-be Queen, called a fertile worker.
Strangely enough, too, we began to work in a half-hearted way, gathering honey, feeding the brood of the impostor, and yet we knew or seemed to know that there would emerge but worthless drones. Hope still lingered in our hearts, but daily it grew more faint until despair overcame us. ”

“ I am a cripple, and my wings are tattered. I shall be a burden, eating the food that may be needed ere the harvest again is ripe. My time has come—and I must go into the dark. This is the law. Why should not bees fly away and never return? How much grander to pass away on the wing, hushed to sleep by the stars. How poor a thing it is to cling to the combs until death shall drag one down to the earth, there to embarrass one’s brothers. ”

“ We were in jubilant mood, on account of this discovery, which chimed in perfectly with conditions at home, for even before we alighted the sound of rejoicing reached us.
“A Queen has been born! A Queen! A Queen!”
We found a throng mad with rejoicings. Crip and I edged our way in, eager to pay our homage, thrilling at the thought that a new lease of life for the colony had been vouchsafed. We reached the place of the palace-cells, only to find them in ruins. Excited bees were razing the last buttresses, while echoing from all sides were: “A new mother has come! A Queen!” ”

“ Even as poor Buzz-Buzz, I feel that my labors are done. I am old and worn and need to make way for the young life which is already singing about me. The Queen-Mother, aware of conditions, has been scattering her brood over wide spaces, and already young bees, flapping their wings frantically, are stumbling over the combs, and hundreds more of them soon will be waiting for the signal to go into the fields. Eagerly will they try their first wings and eagerly will they gather [119] from the flowers the pollen and honey that unfailingly come with the spring. ”

“ It is youth that knows no danger, that brooks no defeat, that pursues, that conquers. It is youth that constructs, that hopes, that achieves—youth that charges the heavens with glory!
Crip was right. Now age has torn my wings and rendered my body nearly useless. While I am still alive, I am among the dying—but, dying, I shall live again.
February has come and already the grass is green and the yellow catclaw-buds are bursting. The great tree that stands hard by is a-bloom. The alarm has been sounded, and out into the world the bees fly by tens and hundreds. ”

“ In the life of the colony there is no equally vital event. Destiny waits on the mating of the Queen.
On a wonderfully fine, warm day, at the noon hour, she made ready for flight. Already in the air could be heard the roar of the drones, that groped about in search of the queenly presence. And now from the alighting-board she rose into the crystal blue. Crip and I, for no reason, followed, not near enough, however, to encroach on the sacred precincts. Higher and higher she climbed, now pursued by some scores of drones. ”

“ I cried, for I did not till then know I had a life—at least I had never thought of it.
“You can sting once, but unless you escape with your stinger, which is rare, your life is sacrificed.”
I seemed to know this and answered him nothing.
“Is it not a strange fatality,” he continued, “that we should be given stingers with which to defend ourselves and our homes, and yet, when we make use of them, we lose our lives! Still, we are always ready to strike, with no thought of death.” ”

“ We pass like the leaves, but life everlasting lingers in her body—the very spirit of things ranges through her. But I am content with my insignificant place, to live my life, doing my duty from day to day. ”

“ Indeed, they crowded the Queen so that she was driven to despair. The very space she had set aside for her brood-chamber for the winter was encroached upon and heaped with bread and honey, but for the nonce there was no stopping them.
Crip said: “You are crazy; it is too late in the season to swarm; it means extinction.”
But one replied: “It is the law! There is a chance for the swarm to survive, and the chance must be taken; particularly when the parent colony shows its ability to survive.” ”

“ Day after day we gathered bread and honey.
“We cannot have too much,” said Crip. “You see, since you have not gone through a winter you have much to learn. It is no simple business. Frightful northers sweep down upon us and chill us and kill us. Sometimes it grows so cold the young bees are frozen in their cells. They must then be removed, or else sickness and disease will follow. Sometimes, too, if stores run low and our numbers fall below a certain point, we ourselves can no longer keep warm. That means death for us all.” ”

“ I noticed, too, as I approached, the Master bending over a neighboring hive, and I wondered what was the matter. But on alighting I was too happy to inquire about anything. I rushed inside and sang a song of thanksgiving at my deliverance.
Then I bolted straight for my cell to find my beloved Crip. He welcomed me with joy.
“Well,” said he, “I feared you were lost. You ought to have come home before the storm broke. But I’m happy you escaped. The next time you see great piles of cloud, make haste homeward. Your life is too precious to lose through stupidity.” ”

“ Crip and the Imposter
On the earlier occasion of the loss of the Queen there had been a brief spasm of despair; but it had yielded, for the possibility of rearing another rose uppermost. Now that possibility had vanished. There was absolutely no hope. Death stalked abroad, and one by one, the eldest first, the bees would go to their doom. There were no young bees to take their places, nothing but dust and darkness.
Several days passed, when one morning a great cry rang through the hive that eggs had been found and that queen-cells had been started. ”

“ Crip answered. “You are young and brave enough, but battles are to be [82] fought here as well as yonder. And some of the strong and gallant had need to remain.”
Something in Crip’s look and tone struck me. Was I too old to go? Had that been the reason? I had heard a cry over the hive that only young bees should go, for there would be small hope of raising much of a brood in the new colony through the winter. If it could build comb enough and gather sufficient honey to feed itself, it would be fortunate. ”

“ Often in their flight, tired and overladen, they would rest for a moment on my sleeve, and then away. Many a one did I raise from the earth where he had fallen—all too like our fellow-mortals—weighted down by burdens [11] too heavy to bear. And how happy I was to see them, with ever so little help, again take wing and fly heartened to their homes. I have sometimes thought that, after all, men are but bees in their ultimate essence. ”

“ A drone is a great, worthless bee that won’t work. [21] They stand around the hive until the time comes for them to die. He is nearly the last. For almost a month we have been driving them away, and when they won’t go sometimes we sting them. You see, they never work and are useless. Of an afternoon they fly up into the sky with a deal of buzzing. Sometimes they follow the Queen into the deep of heaven. If they would stop there! But worse than that, they bluster about over the hive and eat a lot of honey. ”

“ Crip said nothing, nor did I. How useless are words when there is perfect understanding. He came close to me, however, and put his face as near mine as he might, as though he wished to look into the very depths of my eyes.
“It is well,” he said. “I know.”
Then he turned and dragged himself into the hive. I followed closely. How sad it was to see so great a [76] soul chained in so broken a body. I stayed by him, cheering him and encouraging him, until the bugle of the morning sounded. ”

“ Why, these sheets of comb with their six-sided cells are wonderful in their economy, in their plan and symmetry. The cell we build is perfect. No other structure would serve our purposes, combining such strength and capacity. The cell is indispensable to the life of the bee!—otherwise he could not exist. So don’t let me see you make ready to fight the next time the wax-pickers approach, and they’ll soon be after you again. ”

“ In the large economy of the universe our efforts were futile. Better for us and for the great Life of the Bee that the honey we had gathered should be conserved by strange colonies, and that our short lives should be yielded up or dedicated to strengthening them, than that it should be left rich booty to web-worms and mice. ”

“ Simply by feeding and tending them differently—only the bees in their wisdom know how—the egg which might develop into a worker or a drone, passing through a metamorphosis, can be made to break from the dark cover of the cell the personification of life eternal, as exemplified in the body and the life of the Queen. ”

“ She has lived over one winter. She knows how much of a brood to rear to maintain the strength of the colony—or whether she dare rear any at all—bearing in mind the while that there must be a fine adjustment between the mouths to be fed and the total of supplies. She knows well how to keep this account. Last winter, I am told, our stores ran low, so low, in fact, that many of our brothers sacrificed their lives in order to conserve the supplies so as to bring the Queen-Mother with a few attendants through the long, bitter winter. ”

“ Crip looked again. “Why, those are black army ants,” he exclaimed; “one of the worst enemies a bee can meet. Sometimes, when they are hungry, they rush into the hive and help themselves. It is most difficult to deal with them. They nab you by the leg, when they do not sting you, and you cannot free yourself from their deadly grip.” ”

“ Even as I—even as a hundred thousand generations before me—will they marvel at the mysteries that surround them, but, undaunted and undismayed, they will fly into the face of the sun or struggle in the teeth of the hurricane! ”

“ Several days were spent in this undertaking, and finally the word was passed that the new home was ready.
But things were not ready with the parent colony. No Queen had emerged from her cell. From hour to hour the bees marched by impatiently, waiting for the “click-click” of her mandibles and for sight of them piercing the wax door to the cell. And there was much speculation as to which of the half-dozen possible Queens would first emerge. Finally, one day, at high noon, the rumor ran over the hive that a Queen had been born, and the excitement became intense. “A Queen! A Queen!” ”