Homes Without Hands: Being a Description of the Habitations of Animals, Classed According to Their Principle of Construction - Page 84

No sooner is the Bee fairly out of its waxen nursery than the workers clear out the cell, and prepare it for the reception of honey. As soon as the cell is filled, the Bees close up the entrance with a waxen door, which is air-tight, and serves to preserve the honey in proper condition. Those who wish to eat honey in its pure state should always purchase it in the comb. If it be stored in pots, however well they may be sealed, it always crystallizes, and in that state is injurious to digestion. Moreover, it is so extensively adulterated that a pot of really pure honey is not readily obtained.

Besides the honey, "bee-bread" is placed in the cells. This is a compound of honey and the pollen of flowers, and is chiefly used as food for the young grubs. We may often see the Bees hastening home with a load of yellow pollen on each of the hinder pair of legs, and this pollen is destined to be made into bee-bread.

Such, then, is a brief outline of the wonderful social habitation which is made by the Hive-bee.

WE now come to an insect which is as well known by name as the bee, though not so familiar to our eyes. This is the common Hornet (Vespa crabro), which is tolerably plentiful in many parts of England, but seems to be almost absent from others.

The nest of the Hornet is much like that of the wasp, except that it is proportionately larger, and is almost invariably built in hollow trees, deserted outhouses, and places of a similar description. Whenever the Hornet takes up its residence in an inhabited house, as is sometimes the case, the inmates are sure to be in arms against the insect, and with good reason. The Hornet is much larger than the wasp, and its sting is proportionately venomous. It is popularly said that three Hornets can kill a man; and although in such a case the sufferer must previously have been in bad health, the poisonous properties of the Hornet are sufficiently virulent to render such a saying popular.

Moreover, the Hornet is an irascible insect, and given to assault those whom it fancies are approaching its nest with evil intentions. It is not pleasant to be chased by wasps, but to be chased by Hornets is still less agreeable, as I can personally testify. They are so persevering in their attacks that they will follow a man for a wonderfully long distance, and if they be struck away over and over again, they will return to the charge as soon as they recover from the shock. There is a deep ominous menace in their hum, which speaks volumes to those who have some acquaintance with the language of insects; and no one who has once been chased by these insects will willingly run the same risk again.

Mr. S. Stone, whose interesting letter upon the wasp has already been mentioned, tells me that he has been successful in breeding Hornets as well as wasps, and forcing them to build nests much more beautiful than they would have made if they had been at liberty.

One nest, when of moderate size, was removed from the head of a tree, and placed in a large glazed box similar to those which have been mentioned in connection with the wasp. Within the box the Hornets continued their labors, and a most beautiful nest was produced, symmetrical in shape, and variegated with wonderfully rich colors. "Such a nest as that," writes Mr. Stone, "is not produced by Hornets in a general way. They do not trouble themselves to form much of a covering, especially when a small cavity in the head of a tree is selected, which is often the case.

Hornet.

The walls of the chamber they consider a sufficient protection for the combs.

"If you expect them to form a substantial covering, the combs must be so placed as to have ample space around them; and if you expect them to fabricate a covering of great beauty, you must select the richest colored woods, and such as form the most striking contrasts, and place them so that the insects shall be induced, nay, almost compelled to use them in the construction of their nest. This is exactly what I did with reference to the nest in question."

Knowing from experience the difficulty of assaulting a Hornet's nest, I asked Mr. Stone how he performed the task, and was told that his chief reliance was placed on chloroform. Approaching very cautiously to the nest, he twists some cotton wool round the end of a stick, soaks it in chloroform, and pushes it into the aperture. A mighty buzzing immediately arises, but is soon silenced by the chloroform, and as soon as this result has happened, mallet, chisel, and saw are at work, until the renewed buzzing tells that the warlike insects are recovering their senses, and will soon be able to use their formidable weapons. The chloroform is then reapplied until they are quieted, and the tools are again taken up. The extrication of a nest from a hollow tree is necessarily a long and tedious process, on account of the frequent interruptions. Even if the insects did not interfere with the work, the labor of cutting a nest out of a tree is much harder than could be imagined by those who have not tried it.

Moreover, the habits of Hornets are not quite like those of the wasps. At night all the wasps retire into their nest, and in the dead of night the nest may be approached with perfect safety, the last stragglers having come home. Hornets are apt to continue their work through the greater part of the night, and if the moon be up, they are nearly sure to do so; therefore the nest-hunters are obliged to detail one of their party as a sentinel, whose sole business it is to watch for the Hornets that come dropping in at intervals, laden with building materials or food, and that would at once dash at the intruders upon their domains. Fortunately, the light from the lanterns seems to blind them, and they can be struck down as they fly to and fro in the glare.

The nest that has just been mentioned was rather deeply imbedded in the tree, and cost no less than six hours of continuous labor, the work of excavation having been begun at eight P.M., and the nest extracted at two A.M. on the following morning.

In the illustration is seen a portion of a lately-begun nest, much reduced in size, as may be conjectured from the dimensions of the insects that are crawling upon it. As the arrangement of the combs is identical with that of the wasp-nest, the interior is not disclosed. Another reason for showing the exterior of the nest is that the reader might see how the Hornet forms the paper-like cover, and the manner in which the insects can enter at different parts, instead of having but a single entrance, as is the case with several hymenopterous nests which have been mentioned.

In many parts of Brazil there may be seen the social nests of certain hymenopterous insects, which are very aptly termed Synœca, this name being derived from two Greek words which signify sociality.

The nests of these insects have some resemblance to those of certain Polybiæ which have already been described. They are, however, of much greater size, and as they are rather heavy, are affixed to tolerably strong branches. One such nest, which is now in the British Museum, has been built upon a post, nearly encircling it above, and sloping off to a rounded point, nearly two feet below the highest portion. Another is fixed to a rather stout, straight, and upright branch. The nests are dark brown in color, and as they are fixed to objects of a similar hue, are very inconspicuous. The insect which makes this nest is nearly as large as the English hornet.

The walls of the nests made by insects of this genus are very thin and fragile, not unlike those of the structure built by Polybia sedula. In one nest the cover is remarkably elegant, being shaped like the half of a melon cut longitudinally, and moulded into ribs which run transversely across the nest, and have a gentle and regular curve. These ribs project about a quarter of an inch, and are nearly half an inch wide, and are as round and regular as if they were produced by cords wound upon the combs.

The insect which made this nest is of a deep steel-blue color, looking nearly black in a dim light. The head is rather large, and the abdomen is rounded and small, being connected with the thorax by a foot-stalk of moderate length.

THE two remarkable nests which are figured in the large illustration come from different parts of the world, but, as they are similar in many respects, they are placed close to each other.

The long, flask-like nest was brought from Mexico by Owen Rees, Esq., in 1834. Even before it was opened its structure was evidently full of interest. The color is dull white, not unlike parchment, and the texture of the materials is nearly as hard, stiff, and close as that substance. When placed under the microscope, it is seen to be composed of a vast number of shining threads, crossing and recrossing each other in every direction, and producing a material like very thin, but stiff felt.

It was suspended to a branch, but could not swing in the wind, because a twig descended into the neck and prevented any lateral motion. At the bottom of the nest there is a small and nearly circular aperture, through which the insects are enabled to make their exit and entrance. The length of the nest is about eight inches. So much for the exterior. On opening the nest, however, a most singular state of things was discovered. A great number of pupæ, evidently those of some butterfly, were suspended by their tails to the walls and to the twig which runs down the nest. In this nest they were about one hundred in number, and they were hung to the whole of the upper part of the nest, but without any particular order.

NESTS OF SOCIAL LEPIDOPTERA.

On seeing this nest, an entomologist naturally asks how and when the insects made it. That they did not form it of a small size, and then add to its dimensions in order to suit their growth, is evident from the fact that no trace of enlargement can be perceived. It is most probable that, as in the case of the processionary moth, the caterpillars spin their silken home when they are three parts grown, and, in consequence, have but a short time to spend in it before they pass into the quiescent pupal form.

It is evident that the insects make their escape from their pensile home as soon as they have broken out of the pupal skin, because the aperture is so small that they could not possibly pass through it when their wings were thoroughly expanded and dried. Of what form and color these wings might be was for a long time a mystery. Mr. Westwood, who first opened a nest, carefully dissected some of the pupæ, and by cautiously softening the withered membranes in warm water, succeeded in spreading out the wings sufficiently to learn the general form of the nervures and the shape of the “cells,” as the spaces between the nervures are named.

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