WHAT I HAVE DONE WITH BIRDS 
bush, though its tail was tucked, its feathers ruffled and it looked 
chilly. We were running no risks, so we took its picture. I 
should have taken the first one while it lay on its back, to all ap- 
pearances a dead bird. 
I put in a new plate, and when all was ready Molly-cotton 
gave the bird another drink, a big generous one. The air was 
rapidly warming with the rising sun and the bird now revived 
to the point of feeling disheveled, for it ruffled its feathers, shook 
them and laid them so they looked quite sleek. The little thing 
felt very spruce indeed, considering a few moments before, so 
I made a second exposure. While I was hustling to get in a plate 
for a third the bird hopped to a twig above it, gave its tail and 
wings a flirt and with a whizz darted over the nearest trees and in 
a bee-line, as far as we could follow him, sailed for the south. 
THE NEST OF A HUMMING-BIRD 
