By Guy Atherton

Are bees, perhaps, able to take advantage of some of the newly discovered rays that penetrate wood and metal?

Some speculations and guesses as to the purpose of the compound eyes of insects and crustaceans.

Copyright 1941 by Guy Atherton Box 72 Uptown Station St. Paul, Minnesota

Having no guarded isms to pamper,

And no reputation to lose,

We can let vagrant theory scamper Wherever we choose.

"It is better, " Josh Billings reminds us,

"To not know so much than to know"(In a brilliance of knowledge that blinds us)-"A lot that ain't so. "

Heighho! Let's away on our travel,

Sans map, guide or scrip in the purse;

We will gaily proceed to unravel The whole universe.

G. A.

Marvelous beyond any dream of Arabian story spinners is the slowly unfolding narrative of Apis mellifica, the honey bee. Look in upon her labors where we will, the unfathomable eyes of Mystery stare back at us. Whence comes this nectar harvester's accurate dexterity in constructing and filling thousands of mathematically precise cells upon which her life and the survival of her race depend? Her craft efficiency is in some measure shared by numerous other insects, but man is especially interested in the honey hive, the luscious treasury of our most delectable sweet.

Theory May Lead to Truth

Many theories have been offered to explain the perfection of the wax cell, and glass observation hives have enabled observers to watch the workers' movements, but the element of darkness in nearly all other hives leaves room for fresh theories. These guesses of mine may be mere bubbles of an iridescent imagination; but one of them may, instead, prove to be a wedge that can be used to open a crack in the dense wall of nature's illimitable mountain range of wonders, revealing a valuable mine of new truth.

Honeycomb is composed of hexagonal cells, paper thin, and of such uniformity that at one time their measurement was seriously proposed for adoption as a government standard. Each cell is built up of hundreds of overlapping wax scales. Such a delicate, fairily welded cup of gold would seem to require light as one of the necessities for its fabrication. Despite its fragility, it does not leak; stands up under its load of honey and the frequent travel of thousands of bees, and with a little repair can be used again and again for the same storage or for that more vital use, protection of the growing larvae.

It is hard to understand why the inside workers are not jostled and interfered with by these passing crowds; yet the finished comb is clean, exact, stable-as if it were the work of a few serene artisans laboring with an ideal plan in mind and ample light to place every wax scale in its best position.

We humans know the difficulties of good craftsmanship even when the worker has every advantage of tools and light. The bees' work arouses our deepest interest. We can compare it to the products of blind people who make baskets and other wares, but their skills are acquired only after long years of training. The skill of the bee is necessarily gained either as "instinct'' during the larval stage or else in the few days of her immaturity, as her life during the working season is often limited to six weeks. The fabrications of some of the solitary bees and wasps are still more astounding in provision and prevision for the next generation, as disclosed by the observations of Henri Fabre and other patient investigators.

The questing mind is skeptical of miracles; so often have solutions been revealed that were in conformity with the universal laws familiar to us when the scientist came along who was willing to get down on his knees and search for the truth.

General Belief Hive is Dark

What then is the answer to this puzzling, this extraordinary mathematical fitness and faultlessness and endurance of the honey cell? Does the bee really work in the dark? All writers of apian literature that I have consulted take it for granted. Maeterlinck states the current belief: "From the beginning, this strange little creature that lived in a society under complicated laws and executed prodigious labors in the darkness, attracted the notice of men. ''

Fifty years ago the reply to this question would have had to be: Of course-no light can penetrate a closed hive. But in these fifty momentous years a number of new forms of light have been revealed. Based on the epochal discoveries of Becquerel, Roentgen, Crookes, the Curies and numerous other savants, we have learned that some of these new rays can penetrate many substances formerly regarded as opaque -that a sheet of aluminum is like a sheet of glass to them; that wood is almost transparent to their piercing impact. Among those so far discovered on the side of the ultra violet band are the X-rays, gamma rays and cosmic rays. These last are extremely penetrating, and Dr. W. F. G. Swann, of the Franklin Institute, believes that in their primary form they continue through the atmosphere in undiminished numbers and bury themselves in the earth. Other forms of radiant energy are being disclosed, the newly discovered "black ray, " which shows the existence of vivid, glowing colors in what we regard as white cloth, being one of them. Though they affect us in many ways indirectly, our human eyes do not need to take cognizance of the rays beyond the visible spectrum of which there may be hundreds of different kinds, therefore we have not developed a retina that gives us consciousness of their omnipresence. In some age of the far distant future the diminution of the sun's light may cause man to evolve a more sensitive visual organ, perhaps similar to the bee's eye.