8 Massachusetts Audubon Society 



time, whom I named E. Paul, E. P. for short. Another, so little you had 

 to look twice to be sure he was there — I just called him Sliver. He was the 

 littlest thing in the shape of a bird I ever saw, and when he perched with the 

 true humming bird expression, the solemn weighty affairs of the universe 

 resting on his shoulders, I turned my head so he couldn't see the smile. 



One male bird had trouble to get the bottle-fed idea. He would perch 

 near, look at me reproachfully, then go to the flowers that were so far gone 

 I knew there could be little or no honey left in them. I pinned a bottle on 

 a tree next the flowers, tied one among them. Nothing doing! 



We were cleaning up the yard, and piled some brush next the porch. 

 One little branch came up over the rail; he sat on it and looked at me as 

 though half starved until he got on my nerves, so I tied a bottle to that 

 branch where it forked. Something doing! He would sit there, lean over 

 and drink just like a horse at its favorite trough. When we disposed of the 

 brush-pile, I took that branch and fastened it up in a good location. I 

 found it forked twice about eight inches apart. As they like to flit back and 

 forth, I put a bottle at eaclj fork. Soon I learned two more items about 

 hummingbirds. The fork of a small branch gives them a fine chance to 

 perch and eat at the same time. When birds are numerous enough they 

 will eat close together, especially males; often each bottle would have a 

 patron. 



By July our place was fairly alive with hummingbirds. I never suc- 

 ceeded in counting more than seven, for counting hummingbirds is a little 

 like counting flying bullets. Consider that they ate a pound of sugar each 

 week for three weeks in July (a dozen feeding bottles out), and consider 

 that it is one part sugar to three parts water, that one bird eats very little in 

 spite of many calls, as I found out when there was only one, and it is a 

 perfectly safe and good guess that there were many more than seven. 



The male birds left in a body between two days, the third and fourth of 

 August. It was so quiet from this on to the close of the season, I was fairly 

 lost. The 23d of August a male bird appeared, and was here several times 

 that day. I saw him very plainly at the bottles, and his "jewel" was notice- 

 ably small. I have no explanation for this late caller, unless he was a young 

 male who had prematurely acquired his ruby throat. 



With September 11th came the departure of the last female, and the 

 end of season 1919. 



I would like to close this installment in the accepted fashion with a 

 mystery and a thrill. I fear I cannot unless these will serve. Among 

 other comforts of a home, I tried last year to furnish a bath, it was a flat 

 failure. Too late in the season for a try-out, I think I got the correct idea. 

 In our next I'll let you know if Victory rests on my banner. 



Now here is a secret, and I hope a thrilling one: A film company has 

 invited our birds to go into the "movies" in the season of 1920. They 

 themselves do not dream what awaits their return, but let Mary Fairbanks 

 and Douglas Pickford look well to their laurels! 



