The Anna Hummer 
Hummingbirds, spying a new jewel in a recent importation from Mexico, 
presented it, Calypte anna , with a graceful flourish, to his lady friend; 
and we, forsooth, were pledged to pay vocal tribute to this unknown lady 
forever. Was she pretty? Was she witty? Was she worthy and wise? 
We hope so, for her namesake is all of these; and Anna is his name for 
better or for worse. 
The Anna Hummer, Hyperion of the Golden West, is the California 
Hummer par excellence. And while we may not endure to match his 
beauties against the flaming splendors of certain tropical species, we are 
well content that such a treasure should be in our portion. Look first 
upon a singing male as he seats himself on a December day upon the 
topmost wire of a garden trellis. We must look before we listen. Not 
only the gorget, but the forehead, crown, and sides of neck as well, are 
seen to be clad in a resplendent panoply of glancing crimson. At a turn 
of the head the entire foreparts assume one cast of rose-purple; at another, 
the gorget will go to velvet of some dark nameless tint in relief, while 
the side of the head will glance with fires of green and copper. And at 
another tilt of the head the fires will be wholly quenched in a uniform 
velvety blackness. 
As he sings, the minstrel’s body sways from side to side, and his 
earnestness is punctuated by a rhythmical beat of the bill. The notes 
are of two sorts, irregularly interspersed, and each impassioned series is 
followed by an interval of silence. Zzt, zzt, zzt, merk, merk, zzt, zzt, zzt, 
merk, merk, feeble enough as a representation of such elfin language, may 
serve to give the tempo and some indication of the contrasting qualities. 
At another time the merk notes may be wanting altogether, and we shall 
have a series, sustained and rapid, which nevertheless, for its irregular 
intervals, as well as its snapping, hissing qualities, suggests the passage 
of electric sparks. 
Although we may flatter ourselves that the gallant is laying siege 
to our affections, it is ten to one he knows where a lady of his own kind 
is listening. As sure as she stirs there is instant pursuit, and in the 
flashing meteoric shower which follows, the male finds time to pour 
out a flood of murderous slashing or snipping notes. These come in 
groups of four and remind one absurdly of barber’s shears, huh’ uh uh uh, 
huh' uh uh uh. 
At Los Colibris we have an upstairs sleeping porch and a telephone 
wire passing outside not six feet from the head of the bed. Here an 
Anna Hummer has sung to us every season for several years past (and 
often too early in the morning), until we can fancy an individual dis¬ 
tinction in his tones. He often indulges the snipping notes out of mere 
exuberance of spirits. We call him the barber or the scissor-grinder, 
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