BUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD 141 



in the walls of the tent that I could have touched them 

 with a finger through the openings. 



The mother bird was constantly uttering words of 

 assurance or advice, all the while flying about the young. 

 The whole time they were feeding they kept up a con- 

 tinuous chattering that sounded more like that of a basket 

 of young kittens, or the squeaking of a small piece of 

 unoiled machinery, than a young bird 's song. When they 

 fed within two inches of a tent-slit near my face the buz- 

 zing of the air was like that of an electric fan. 



