The Hummingbird at Home 7 



and then away. Before long one of the twins ceased to 

 come at all. 



I don't believe any sun-worshipper of old could be 

 more devoted to his idol than the hummingbird. He lives 

 in the sun almost as a fish does in the water. The minute 

 a cloud crosses the face of the sun his feathers puff up and 

 his eye loses its sparkle. It's hard for a hummer to en- 

 dure cold and cloudy weather, much more a season of rain. 

 But he seems to adapt himself better to a rainy climate 

 than many other birds. He has profited by the experience 

 of the past. Out of twenty-three different hummingbird 

 nests, I found the majority built so that they were entirely 

 under shelter. Three were in vines directly under bridges, 

 two in Virginia creepers under porches, another in a black- 

 berry bush under a log, and so on, every time in a place 

 where no amount of rain could bother them. 



I was standing on the hillside one bright May morn- 

 ing when two hummers caught my attention. One whirred 

 downward like the rush of a rocket. He ascended, whirl- 

 ing up till I could see only a blurred speck in the blue. 

 Then he dropped headlong like a red meteor, with his 

 gorget puffed out and his tail spread wide. Instead of 

 striking with a burst of flying sparks, he veered just above 

 the bushes with a sound like the lash of a whip drawn 

 swiftly through the air, and, as the impetus carried him up, 

 a high-pitched musical trill burst out above the whir of 

 his wings. Again and again he swung back and forth like 

 a comet in its orbit. If he was courting, his aim was surely 

 to dazzle and move with irresistible charm. I think his 

 method was to sweep at his lady love with a show of glit- 

 tering brilliancy and gorgeous display and win her heart 



