THE HUMMINGBIRD 53 



Last May, for example, I stopped in the mid- 

 dle of the road to listen for the voice of a house 

 wren, when I caught instead the buzz and squeak 

 of a hummer. Turning my gaze upward, I saw 

 her fly to a half-built nest on a maple branch 

 directly over my head. 



The nest is a tiny thing, looking for size and 

 shape like a cup out of a child's toy tea-set. Its 

 walls are thick, and on the outside are covered 

 — shingled, we may say — with bits of gray 

 lichen, which help to make the nest look hke 

 nothing more than a knot. Whether they are 

 put on for that purpose, or by way of ornament, 

 is more than I can tell. 



The bird always lays two white eggs, about 

 as large as peas. The young ones stay in the 

 nest for three weeks, more or less, till they are 

 fully grown and fledged, and perfectly well able 

 to fly. I once saw one take his first flight, and 

 a great venture it seemed. All these three 

 weeks, and for another week afterward, the 

 mother — no father is present — has her hands 

 full to supply the little things with food, which 

 she gives them from her crop, thrusting her 

 long, sharp bill clea;n down their throats in the 

 process, in a way to make a looker-on shiver. 

 The only note I have ever heard from the ruby- 

 throat is a squeak, which seems to be an expres- 



