THE HUMMING-BIRD 



nose like a pig's, a face very similar, and ears round like a mouse's, 

 instead of pointed. Her fur was silken fine and of beautiful 

 colour. Each of the four babies was a miniature of the mother. 

 When she was quite satisfied she let go the paddle and went to 

 sleep. Until her picture was taken and she was returned to 

 freedom, Molly-Cotton fed her milk, which she took eagerly at 

 every offering. 



When we were congratulating ourselves that the Humming- 

 bird was saved, came disaster. I do not know why I was so 

 thoughtless. Its ability to climb to the edge of the nest should 

 have warned me. The bird tried its first flight, but fell from the 

 shelf on which the nest was placed, five feet to the cement floor 

 and died in a few seconds. 



Our next Humming-bird experience was short. I met Mr. 

 Hale on the way to the post-office. "Hold fast all I give you," 

 he said, reaching out a hand. What I got was a Humming-bird 

 lying on its back, its eyes closed, its feet drawn up among its 

 feathers, seemingly dead. 



"Found that among the sweet peas this morning," he said. 

 "It forgot to migrate and took a chill." It was October and the 

 night had been heavy with frost. 



I cupped both hands around the bird and on reaching the 

 Cabin could see that it was alive. I gradually warmed it until it 

 opened its eyes. Then I told Molly-Cotton to bring me four 

 grains (granules) of granulated sugar, with one drop of tincture 

 of ginger and five of water added to them. We held this mixture 

 to the bird's bill and it drank feebly. In a short time it began 

 to ruffle its feathers and shiver. 



Then I sent Molly-Cotton to carry my camera to the south 

 side of the Cabin, where she had a La France rose bush in full 

 bloom that we had covered during the night. I followed with 

 the bird. It soon revived until it could cling to a dead twig on 



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