required all the strength of the little mite, and frequent rests were necessary to recruit. Sometimes an interval of twisting seemed to accomplish nothing, and it would look as if all its struggles would be in vain. I wondered whether the parent would not render a little much-needed assistance at this stage; but after an interval of rest the work would be continued with renewed vigor and another millimetre cut toward the outer world. The cutting was all done in the same direction. When the shell had been cut four-fifths around, the chick succeeded in getting one claw hooked over the edge of the break, and by one or two vigorous pushes broke the remaining shell, leaving in my hand two nearly equal parts of what had been a hummingbird’s egg and a squirming something that bore no semblance whatever to one of the peerless members of the genus Calypte.” The entire operation, which added another individual to America’s beautiful family of birds, required but fifteen minutes of time. The energy and perseverance of the little mass of flesh was a hint of that pugnacious disposition that would be so striking a characteristic when it became fully grown and clothed with its resplendent metallic plumage.

LONGING.

EXPERIENCES WITH “HUMMERS.”

Did you ever hold a live hummingbird in your hand? Well, I have held several of the wee, wee creatures. Did you ever look into a hummingbird’s nest? Well, I have peeped into several of the tiny, downy affairs.

Two of the nests contained eggs; one contained young birds. The eggs were as small as an ordinary garden pea—perfectly egg-shaped. Can I describe the young of the hummingbird? No, impossible. I can only say that they are the smallest animal I ever saw in all my life. Of course, that does not include the insect world.

How did I contrive to get hold of a live hummingbird? Easy enough when you know how.

One hot afternoon in June I was sitting in a garden reading. A few yards away stood a large bunch of brilliant carnations. Now, if there is anything which a hummer fairly dotes on it is pinks. Suddenly I heard a loud hum near by. I looked toward the carnations, and, sure enough, there were too hummingbirds hovering around the flowers.

I watched their movements for several moments with great interest. Presently I observed that one of the birds appeared to be entangled. Its tongue, or long, needle-like beak, was caught in some manner in the petals of a large pink. The little fellow kept fluttering around in a helpless way, but could not liberate itself.

Instantly I dropped the book and ran over to the bed. The other hummingbird darted away like a shot. I very softly took the tiny prisoner in my hand and then gently liberated it. For half a minute or more I held the trembling, fluttering creature in my hand. I wish I could describe the beauty and brilliancy of its plumage. Silk, velvet and the delicate tints of the rainbow are the only adequate words. Finally I released the prisoner. In a flash he was out of sight.

One good fright was enough. Neither bird ever came back to the carnations again. At least, the pinks were not visited by any more hummingbirds that season.

Last summer I was out with a fishing party. We went far back into the mountains, where it was rugged, wild and lonely. One day I was out fishing along a rushing torrent. There was a deep, swirling eddy where I was angling, and just on the bank stood a small cedar tree. A long, slender limb hung only a few feet above my head.

While I was fishing a hummingbird came buzzing around my head. It kept circling around me for some time. Finally I stopped fishing. Instantly the bird alighted on a twig and eyed me closely with its bright bead-like eye. A moment later the little mate arrived.

“Surely there must be a nest near by,” I said to myself. Then I began fishing.

Both birds immediately came whirring about my ears like two hornets. They kept it up until I desisted. Then both alighted and watched me sharply. Again and again I tried to fish, but the little creatures would give me no peace.

Down I laid my rod and began to look carefully for a nest. Sure enough, there was one concealed amidst the cedar boughs. It was right above my head where I stood fishing. Very gently I pulled the pendent branch down until I could peep into the thimble of a nest, which contained beautiful eggs. Meantime the birds kept buzzing around my head in a most distracted manner.

Having satisfied my curiosity I quietly withdrew, to the evident delight of the little parents.

On another occasion I was out in an orchard. I noticed two hummingbirds flying around a certain apple tree limb. As I approached the birds became more excited. When within a few yards of the tree I noticed a young bird sitting on a nest. He was almost grown. Not wishing to frighten the little chap, I stopped abruptly. But he darted away. However, his wings were too weak, and down he sank fluttering, falling into a big tuft of tall grass.

He was perfectly helpless, so I very tenderly picked him up and placed him back on the nest. To my surprise and amusement he did not attempt to escape, but stood up boldly and looked at me in a saucy, defiant way. The parent birds were buzzing around me like angry bees, but when they saw that I did not harm their offspring they both alighted near the nest.

A large clump of wild currants stood in one corner of the yard. I noticed two hummingbirds almost constantly hovering around the bush among the large yellow flowers.

I went out one afternoon and secreted myself in the clump, in order to observe more closely the actions and peculiarities of the birds. One was the largest hummingbird I had ever seen, and its plumage was simply gorgeous.

Soon the birds came around, but they did not seem in the least alarmed by my presence. The larger one came very near, and actually flew against my face. I held up my hand, when the bird flew straight into it. I instantly closed my fingers and held him a prisoner. His plumage was brilliant beyond description. As the beautiful captive did not seem to resent my familiarity, I examined his coat carefully before giving the bird its freedom.

I had still another experience with a hummer. On a bright summer day one flew through an open door into a room where I was sitting. Quick as a flash the bird discovered its mistake. It dashed against a window pane with all its might and dropped on the floor. I hastily picked it up. It seemed quite dead. But as I held it in my open hand, silently sympathizing over its fate, the bird suddenly revived and flitted out through the open door before I could wink.

J. Mayne Baltimore.

MY HUMMINGBIRD.