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Ii. D. Astley — A Humming Bird



A HUMMING BIRD


By H. D. Astley


I greatly regret to record that my Humming Bird, of which an

account is given in the July Magazine, p. 108, died at the end of that

month. I had been away from home for three weeks, and on my return

I saw that the little bird was not looking as healthy as when I left him,

but my bird-keeper had looked after him well, and was exceedingly

anxious to keep him going.


His cage was hung in a lavatory where liot-water pipes run up

inside the wall, and in addition to this a carbon electric light bulb was

kept burning, so that the temperature was usually 75 degrees or a bit

over. At night the cage was covered over, and his food was given

fresh every morning and afternoon. The carbon light gives out a

great deal more heat than the ordinary wire.


The Humming Bird had several twigs of fuschia to perch upon,

raised an inch from the tray, which was covered with blotting-paper.

The little bird seemed to digest his food well, and used to enjoy dipping

into a tin of tepid water, but he could not fly, and although he had

moulted a lot of minute body-feathers, he had not dropped any primary

wing feathers, which were merely shafts, the webbing having worn

off on the long voyage from Venezuela through the feathers becoming

soiled with the honeyed food ; and perhaps the fact of his being

deprived of the power of flight was his undoing.


The little bird was what would be called in good condition, the tiny

body quite plump, but his breathing never seemed quite right, and I

can only suppose that the internal organs were adversely affected

through lack of exercise. I was sorely disappointed, for after keeping

him a few weeks I had every hope of doing so for a few years ! I shall

ever be grateful to Monsieur Delacour for giving me such a treasure,

and to Mrs. Bourke for her kindness and ability in saving his life when

he was almost gone. I do not think that Humming Birds in good health

and able to buzz about would need a temperature above 70 degrees.


They are undoubtedly most intelligent, and when my small mite was

on the floor of the cage and found any difficulty in perching, he soon

seemed to understand when I held a twig in front of him, and would

“ climb ” on to it, permitting me to convey him to a fixed one in the



