766 
A Widow and Twins. 
shade of the hummer’s own tree, and 
armed with opera-glass and notebook, I 
spent some hours daily in playing the 
spy upon her motherly doings. 
For a widow with a house and family 
upon her hands, she took life easily; at 
frequent intervals she absented herself 
altogether, and even when at home she 
spent no small share of the time in flit¬ 
ting about among the branches of the 
tree. On such occasions, I often saw 
her hover against the bole or a patch of 
leaves, or before a piece of caterpillar 
or spider web, making quick thrusts with 
her bill, evidently after bits of something 
to eat. On quitting the nest, she com¬ 
monly perched upon one or another of 
a certain set of dead twigs in different 
parts of the tree, and at once shook out 
her feathers and spread her tail, dis¬ 
playing its handsome white markings, 
indicative of her sex. This was the be¬ 
ginning of a leisurely toilet operation, 
in the course of which she scratched 
herself with her feet and dressed her 
feathers with her bill, all the while dart¬ 
ing out her long tongue with lightning- 
like rapidity, as if to moisten her beak, 
which at other times she cleansed by 
rubbing it down with her claws or by 
wiping it upon a twig. In general she 
paid little attention to me, though she 
sometimes hovered directly in front of 
my face, as if trying to stare me out of 
countenance. One of the most pleasing 
features of the show was her method of 
flying into the nest. She approached it, 
without exception, from the same quar¬ 
ter, and, after an almost imperceptible 
hovering motion, shut her wings and 
dropped upon the eggs. 
When the young were hatched I re¬ 
doubled my attentions. Now I should 
see her feed them. On the first after¬ 
noon I waited a long time for this pur¬ 
pose, the mother conducting herself in 
her customary manner : now here, now 
there, preening her plumage, driving 
away a meddlesome sparrow, probing 
the florets of a convenient clover-head 
[June, 
(an unusual resource, I think), or snatch¬ 
ing a morsel from some leaf or twig. 
Suddenly she flew at me, and held her¬ 
self at a distance of perhaps four feet 
from my nose. Then she wheeled, and, 
as I thought, darted out of the orchard. 
In a few seconds I turned my head, and 
there she sat in the nest! I owned my¬ 
self beaten. While I had been gazing 
toward the meadow, she had probably 
done exactly what I had wasted the bet¬ 
ter part of the afternoon in attempting 
to see. 
Twenty-four hours later I was more 
successful, though the same ruse was 
again tried upon me. The mother left 
the nest at my approach, but in three 
minutes (by the watch) flew in again. 
She brooded for nine minutes. Then, 
quite of her own motion, she disappeared 
for six minutes. On her return she 
spent four minutes in dressing her fea¬ 
thers, after which she alighted on the 
edge of the nest, fed the little ones, and 
took her place upon them. This time 
she brooded for ten minutes. Then she 
was away for six minutes, dallied about 
the tree for two minutes longer, and 
again flew into the nest. While sitting, 
she pecked several times in quick succes¬ 
sion at a twig within reach, and I could 
plainly see her mandibles in motion, as 
if she were swallowing. She brooded 
for thirteen minutes, absented herself 
for three minutes, and spent six minutes 
in her usual cautionary manoeuvres be¬ 
fore resuming her seat. For the long 
interval of twenty-two minutes she sat 
still. Then she vanished for four min¬ 
utes, and on her return gave the young 
another luncheon, after a fast of one 
hour and six minutes. 
The feeding process, which I had 
been so desirous to see, was of a sort to 
make the spectator shiver. The mother, 
standing on the edge of the nest, with 
her tail braced against its side, like a 
woodpecker or a creeper, took a rigidly 
erect position, and craned her neck until 
her bill was in a perpendicular line 
