How I Mothered a Pair of Hummingbirds 275 



little necks and eye me from a dozen different angles; at other times they 

 would snuggle down in the cotton and go to sleep. But when they surveyed 

 me, I studied them. One discovery made at such a time startled me extremely. 

 Holding them to the light to enjoy their coloring, I noticed, for the first time, 

 that their little bodies were translucent — I could see into them, if not entirely 

 through them. The sunlight X-rayed them, making the fragile bone-structure 

 visible. 



They were very active now and, in exercising their little wings, learned to 

 make a tremendous humming noise, which warned me that they needed a 

 cage. I made one, some 6 feet square, of ordinary wire window-screening, 

 not at all ornamental but excellent for them; and, by the end of the first six 

 weeks, they frolicked to the limits of their little world. 



The days as they came and went found my chief delight in these birds, 

 so when two months had passed — busy, busy months in which my attention 

 had been so centered that duties in other directions had suffered — I determined 

 to devote less time to them. By making little grooves in beeswax and filling 

 them with sweets, I tried to teach them to care for themselves. But it was a 

 mistake; they would not touch it. Gathering deep flowers, honeysuckles and 

 the like, I hoped further to entice them, but this, too, was a failure. Having 

 provided for them in this manner, I often left them for an afternoon, in an effort 

 to teach them self-reliance. But on my return, the first step on the porch told 

 of their utter dependence on me, for I could hear their insistent demands for 

 refreshments. Although my needlework, music, and houseliold cares were 

 neglected in my desire to raise these helpless little creatures, I did not begrudge 

 the time devoted to them; I enjoyed the experience in a way I cannot relate. 



It was interesting to watch the birds develop. The larger of the two became 

 a most beautiful bird. As he dashed wildly to the corner of the cage and hovered 

 momentarily over some flower I had placed there, vibrating his wings rapidly, 

 he seemed to diffuse an iridescent glow; becoming calm, his little body radiated 

 soft coppery tones with each quiet movement. The smaller bird was not so 

 bold in her coloring or conduct; she was by nature modest and retiring. 

 Although somber and delicate, she was, perhaps, as beautiful. 



When they had been three months in my home, they seemed fully devel- 

 oped, and I thought how happy they would be if free, for their wild tendencies 

 had never been tamed though I cared for them so constantly. True, I found 

 them submissive at feeding-time, but when hunger was appeased I became a 

 strange monster, and when allowed a flight through the rooms, feeding-time 

 must come again to recapture them. Was it right, I asked myself, to imprison 

 these little creatures, now mature, when they could provide for themselves — 

 if they ever could. 



Having made up my mind, I chose a beautiful day in September in which 

 to free them, a splendid time in western Oregon, for flowers still bloom and 

 nectar is still plentiful. I chose the morning, for many hours would pass before 



