THE HUMMING-BIRD 



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 

 color. 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. But until her picture was taken and she was returned to 

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

 every offering. 



Just when we were congratulating ourselves that the Hum- 

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

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

 have warned me. The bird tried its first flight and 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, to all appearances dead. 



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

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

 the night had been heavy with frost. 



I cupped both hands about 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 little while 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 LaFrance rosebush 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 the 



2*7 



