V 



THE HUMMINGBIRD AT HOME 



HE dropped into our garden like the flying fleck from 

 a rainbow, probed at the geranium blossoms and 

 disappeared as the flash from a whirling mirror. I had 

 often watched him and listened to the musical hum of his 

 wings, as it rose and fell in sweetest cadences. I always 

 had the unsatisfied tinge of disappointment as I was left 

 gazing at the trail of this little shooting star of our gar- 

 den, that hummed as well as glowed. I longed to have 

 him and call him mine. Not caged, mercy no ! I wanted 

 his lichen-shingled home in the Virginia creeper, his two 

 pearly eggs, the horned midgets, the little fledglings, the 

 mother as she plied them with food, and I wanted the 

 glint of real live sunshine that hovered and poised about 

 the flowers and got away, a minute ethereal sprite. And 

 more than that, I wanted to have forever with me this 

 mite that possesses the tiniest soul in feathers. 



It was not till we had studied, had watched and waited 

 with the camera for four different nesting seasons about 

 the hillside and along the creek, that we succeeded in get- 

 ting a series of pictures of the home life of the little Ru- 

 fous Hummingbird (Selasphorus rufus) 1 . 



The first year, by the merest chance, we found a nest 



1 For a description of the more important species in each family the reader is referred 

 to the end of the chapter. 



3 



