6 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



brushed us with his wings in going back and forth 

 to his door, sometimes ahghting on our heads. 

 In his behalf I spent much time sweeping up the 

 debris dropped by the pair on the back porch while 

 building their nest, because my mother threatened 

 to nail shut the opening; but as she never did, I 

 strongly suspect that she had no real intention of 

 so doing. 



She was a great friend of a pair of hummingbirds 

 that almost always nested in a honeysuckle over 

 her bedroom window. One day, the front door 

 having been left open, the male bird flew into the 

 room and did not seem able to find his way out 

 again. When he had circled the ceiling, striking 

 his head until the feathers were worn away and 

 tiny touches of red began to show on the paper, 

 my mother could endure no more; so she sum- 

 moned help and finally succeeded in capturing 

 the bird, which she allowed me to hold in my hands 

 while she showed me how small its body was, how 

 tiny its feet, how fine its bill. 



She had much trouble with the swifts that built 

 in the chimney to a huge fireplace in our living 

 room. A number of these birds would build their 

 nests near the top of this chimney every season, 

 beginning a raucous chatter very early in the 

 morning, constantly dropping twigs and clay 

 over the andirons and into the fireplace; while, 

 either from imperfect construction or through 

 heavy rains loosening the fastenings, there never 



