767 
1891.] 
A Widoiv and Tivins. 
above the short, wide-open, upraised 
beak of the little one, who, it must be 
remembered, was at this time hardly 
bigger than a bumblebee. Then she 
thrust her bill for its full length down 
into his throat, a frightful-looking act, 
followed by a series of murderous ges¬ 
ticulations which fairly made one ob¬ 
server’s blood run cold. 
On the day after this (on the 2d of 
July, that is to say) I climbed into the 
tree, in the old bird’s absence, and sta¬ 
tioned myself where my eyes were per¬ 
haps fifteen feet from the nest, and a 
foot or two above its level. At the end 
of about twenty minutes, the mother, 
who meantime had made two visits to 
the tree, flew into place, and brooded 
for seventeen minutes. Then she disap¬ 
peared again, and on her return, after 
numberless pretty feints and sidelong- 
approaches, alighted on the wall of the 
nest, and fed both little ones. The 
operation, though still sufficiently reck¬ 
less, looked less like infanticide than 
before, — a fact due, as I suppose, to 
my more elevated position, from which 
the nestlings’ throats were better seen. 
After this she brooded for another sev¬ 
enteen minutes. On the present occa¬ 
sion, as well as on many others, it was 
noticeable that, while sitting upon the 
young, she kept up an almost incessant 
motion, as if seeking to warm them, or 
perhaps to develop their muscles by a 
kind of massage treatment. A measure 
of such hitchings and fidgetings might 
have meant nothing more than an at¬ 
tempt to secure for herself a comfort¬ 
able seat; but when they were persisted 
in for fifteen minutes together, it was 
difficult not to believe that she had some 
different end in view. Possibly, as hu¬ 
man infants get exercise by dandling on 
the mother’s knee, the baby humming¬ 
bird gets his by this parental kneading 
process. Whether brooding or feeding, 
it must be said that the hummer treated 
her tiny charges with no particular care¬ 
fulness, so far as an outsider could judge. 
The next day I climbed again into the 
tree. The mother bird made off at once, 
and did not resume her seat for almost 
an hour, though she would undoubtedly 
have done so earlier but for my presence. 
Again and again she perched near me, 
her bill leveled straight at my face. 
Finally she alighted on the nest, and, 
after considerable further delay, as if to 
assure herself that everything was quite 
safe, fed the two chicks from her throat, 
as before. “ She thrust her bill into 
their mouths so far ” (I quote my notes) 
“ that the tips of their short little beaks 
were up against the root of her mandi¬ 
bles ! ” 
Only once more, on the 4th of July, I 
ventured into the apple-tree. For more 
than an hour and a half I waited. 
Times without number the mother came 
buzzing into the tree, made the circuit 
of her favorite perches, dressed her 
plumage, darted away again, and again 
returned, till I was almost driven to get 
down, for her relief. At last she fed 
the nestlings, who by this time must 
have been all but starved, as indeed they 
seemed to be. “ The tips of their bills 
do come clean up to the base of the 
mother’s mandibles.” So I wrote in my 
journal ; for it is the first, duty of a nat¬ 
uralist to verify his own observations. 
On the 10th we again brought out the 
ladder. Though at least eleven days old, 
the tiny birds — the “widow’s mites,” 
as my facetious neighbor called them - 
were still far from filling the cup. W hile 
I stood over it, one of them uttered some 
pathetic little cries that really went to 
my heart. His bill, perceptibly longer 
than on the 5th, was sticking just above 
the border of the nest. I touched it at 
the tip, but he did not stir. Craning my 
neck, I could see his open eye. Poor, 
helpless things ! Yet within three months 
they would be flying to Central America, 
or some more distant clime. How little 
they knew what was before them! As 
little as I know what is before me. 
The violence of the feeding act was 
