500 ENEMIES OF BEES. 



evitahly fall a prey to the bee-moth. By watciiing, in glass 

 hives, the proceedings of colonies purposely made queenless, 

 we have ascertained that they make little or no resistance to 

 her entrance, and allow her to lay her eggs where she pleases. 

 The worms, after hatching, appear to have their own way, 

 and are even more at home than the dispirited bees. 



How worthless, then, to a hopelessly queenless colony, arn 

 all the traps and other devices which, formerly, have been 

 so much relied upon. Any passage which admits a bee is 

 large enough for the moth, and if a single female enters 

 such a hive, she may lay eggs enough to destroy it, however 

 strong. Under a low estimate, she would lay, at least, two 

 hundred eggs in the hive, and the second generation will count 

 by thousands, while those of the third will exceed a million. 



In the Ohio Cultivator for 1849, page 185, Micajah T. 

 Johnson says: — "One thing is certain — if bees, from any 

 cause, should lose their queen, and not have the means in 

 their power of raising another, the miller and the worms 

 soon take possession. I believe no hive is destroyed by worms 

 while an efficient queen remains in it." 



This seems to be the earliest published notice of this im- 

 portant fact by any American observer. 



It is certain that a queenless hive seldom maintains a guard 

 at the entrance after night, and does not fill the air with the 

 pleasant voice of happy industry. Even to our dull ears, the 

 difference between the hum of a prosperous hive and the un- 

 happy note of a despairing one is often sufficiently obvious; 

 may it not be even more so to the acute senses of the provi- 

 dent mother-moth'? 



Her unerring sagacity resembles the instinct by which birds 

 that prey upon carrion, single out from the herd a diseased 

 animal, hovering over its head with their dismal croakings, 

 or sitting in ill-omened flocks on the surrounding trees, watch- 

 ing it as its life ebbs away, and snapping their blood-thirsty 

 beaks, impatient to tear out its eyes, just glazing in death, 

 and banquet on its flesh, still warm with the blood of life: 



