SWARMING AND HIVING. 113 



in circles continually enlarging, like those 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, rushing impetu- 

 ously to the entrance, pour forth in one steady stream. 

 Not a bee looks behind, but each pushes straight ahead, 

 as though' flying " for dear life," or urged on by some in- 

 visible power, in its headlong career. 



Often, the queen does not come out until many have 

 left ; and she is frequently so heavy, from the number of 

 eggs in her ovaries, that she falls to the ground, incapable 

 of rising with her colony into the air. The bees soon 

 miss her, and a very interesting scene may now be wit- 

 nessed. Diligent search is at once made for their lost 

 mother ; the swarm scattering in all directions, so that the 

 leaves of the adjoining trees and bushes are often covered 

 almost as thickly with anxious explorers, as with drops of 

 rain after a copious shower. If she cannot be found, they 

 commonly return to the old hive, in from five to fifteen 

 minutes, though they occasionally attempt to enter a 

 strange one, or to unite with another swarm. 



The ringing of bells, and beating of kettles and frying- 

 pans, is probably not a whit more efficacious, than the 

 hideous noises of some savage tribes, who, imagining that 

 the sun, in an eclipse, has been swallowed by an enormous 

 dragon, resort to such means to compel his snakeship to 

 disgorge their favorite luminary. 



Many who have never practised " tanging," have flever 

 had a swarm leave without settling. Still, as one of 

 the " country sounds," and as a relic of the olden times, 

 even the most matter-of-fact bee-man can readily excuse 

 the enthusiasm of that pleasant writer in the London 

 Quarterly Review, who discourses as follows : 



" Some fine, warm morning in May or June, the whole 

 atmosphere seems alive with thousands of bees, whirling 



