HUMMERS. 151 



way was still more trustful — with people. I 

 used to sit leaning against the trunk of her oak 

 and watch the nest, which was near the tip of 

 one of the long swinging branches that drooped 

 over the trail. When the tiny worker was at 

 home, a yard-stick would almost measure the 

 distance between us. As she sat on the nest 

 she sometimes turned her head to look down at 

 the dog lying beside me, and often hovered over 

 us on going away. 



The nest was saddled on a twig and glued to a 

 glossy dark green oak leaf. Like the other nest, 

 it was made of a spongy yellow substance, prob- 

 ably down from the underside of sycamore leaves ; 

 and like it, also, the outside was coated with lichen 

 and wound with cobweb. The bird was a rapid 

 worker, buzzing in with her material and then 

 buzzing off after more. Once I saw the cobweb 

 hanging from her needle-like bill, and thought 

 she probably had been tearing down the beauti- 

 ful suspension bridges the spiders hang from tree 

 to tree. 



It was very interesting to see her work. She 

 would light on the rim of the nest, or else drop 

 directly into the bottom of the tiny cup, and place 

 her material with the end of her lono- bill. It 

 looked like trying to sew at arm's length. She 

 had to draw back her head in order not to reach 

 beyond the nest. How much more convenient it 

 would have been if her bill had been jointed ! It 



