A BOY'S OBSERVATIONS OF A HUMMINGBIRD. 



On my way to school one morning, I 

 ran across a Hummingbird's nest, which 

 looked so much like a dried leaf that I 

 came near passing it by. The nest was 

 about an inch and a half across and it 

 nearly matched the light gray eucalyp- 

 tus leaf on which it was made, both in 

 color and shape. A closer examination 

 showed two pure white, oval eggs and a 

 very cross little Hummingbird, who was 

 very much provoked to have me intrude 

 upon her nest. 



About two weeks later, on coming 

 near the nest, I saw a tiny, black-skinned 

 baby Hummingbird in the nest alongside 

 of the tgg that had not hatched. The 

 tgg never did hatch, so the mother 

 threw it out to make room for her young 

 one, who was growing fast. The fol- 

 lowing days were busy ones for the little 

 mother who had to work hard to get 

 enough for her growing youngster, who 

 made such rapid growth that at the end 

 of three weeks he was nearly as large as 



his mother. Some people near by 

 hitched some cows under the trees; and 

 one afternoon I found the young bird 

 near its demolished nest. I brought it 

 home and put it in an empty canary's 

 nest, which it did not like. After some 

 severe criticism of its new home it at 

 last settled down and went to sleep. The 

 following morning I heard it making a 

 noise for its breakfast ; I mixed some 

 sugar and water together in a spoon and 

 gave it from a straw. Later I fed it 

 from a medicine dropper, which it took 

 to as quickly as a duck does to water. 



As it grew older, it began to take short 

 flights; and my mother, fearing that a 

 cat would get it, had a cage constructed 

 for its confinement. A few days after- 

 ward we placed it on some nasturtiums, 

 because we thought a Hummingbird that 

 stayed around there would take care of 

 it. 



It stayed a few hours and then dis- 

 appeared. 



Harlan Trask. 



JENNY WREN AND THE SPARROWS. 



The Wren's box was under the eaves 

 at the corner of the house. The entrance 

 to this tiny, cozy cottage was through a 

 door, the exact size of a 25-cent piece. 

 This diameter allowed the Wren to enter 

 her home with perfect ease, while the 

 Sparrows could do no more than peep 

 within. The door had no entrance step 

 nor porch, but the roof of the well-curb, 

 close by, served for this purpose. 



The Sparrows decided to keep the 

 Wren from feeding her family. In con- 

 sequence, a regiment would line up on 

 the roof of the house ready for battle. 

 The anxious mother, returning with her 

 dainty worm morsel, was sorely dis- 

 tressed. Her cry brought me to the res- 

 cue. Flirting my apron at the Sparrow 



intruders I completely routed them — 

 "for the time being." 



The Wren was quick to learn her re- 

 lief party. She would alight on the roof 

 of the well-curb, just opposite the 

 ''army," drop her bit of food and sing a 

 sweet, trilling song, to let me know of 

 her return and need of help. (When the 

 enemy was absent she failed to call me.) 

 After the birdlets were fed the lit- 

 tle mother would pour forth a seeming 

 extra song of thankfulness. 



This performance was repeated until 

 the Wren's family was able to go into 

 the busy world of workers. The Spar- 

 rows never ceased to bother; the Wren 

 never ceased to work and sing. 



Harmon I A Tate. 



