A PET HUMMING-BIRD.
Humming-bird mothers are very tender of their young and will seldom
go out of sight of them. We have ourselves picked the mother from the
nest and let her go, when she would immediately return to it.
If you see a humming-bird sitting on a twig napping, just clasp your
hands behind you and go straight up to the bird. You can almost touch
it with your face, but if you put out your hand the bird will dart
away. A hummer will alight on the flowers you may be carrying, if you
remain perfectly still. These birds seem to notice movement more than
form.
Humming-birds, like many others, do not seem to notice a person if he
is going toward them in a straight line. It is "sidewise" movement
that frightens them.
We have known a humming-bird to "play 'possum," though we are told,
by some one who ought to know, that it was really frightened almost
to death.
This bird had come in at an open window for some flowers left on the
sill. On leaving the room, by some mistake it flew up to the ceiling
instead of going out at the window. The ceiling was high, so we
took a long broom and chased the bird, catching it on the wisp end
and bringing it down. It did not stir, though we were sure we had
not hurt it. We took it in our hands, and it lay on its back with
its eyes shut, as if it were indeed dead. Then we carried it to the
garden, feeling very sorry. Suddenly one black eye opened, and then
the other, when, in a flash, the little bird was off.
One day in spring a certain professor whom we know, who is very fond
of hunting toadstools, caught sight of what he felt sure was a rare
one on the limb of a live-oak tree. The heart of the professor beat
with joy, for he would rather find a new kind of toadstool or lichen
than a gold mine, and he put out his hand to pick this new one off.
It moved, and he looked at it. It was a baby hummer, just fledged,
and very delicate. It did not know enough to be afraid of him, and
cuddled in his hand as if it were the nest.
He knew how much we like birds, and so the professor put the baby in
his pocket basket and brought it home to us. The bird was unhurt and
as free from fear as a real baby. Its face looked like a baby face,
as the faces of all young birds look, innocent and sweet, and full of
a helpless, not frightened, expression. You can look at the pictures
and see that this is true.
To feed this bird, which seemed hungry, we mixed some sugar and
water. It would not open its bill, so we held the sweet in a spoon
and dipped the beak into it. It tasted, and then put out its tongue
and lapped some. This very slender, thread-like tongue was long and
black and very quick of movement.
Every hour we fed it with this sweetened water, and it came to
know the spoon by sight and to look for it when we were coming. We
moistened our lips with the syrup, and the little thing would move
towards us, placing its bill on our lips and thrusting its dainty
tongue all around in a way that was very amusing.
We did not know as much about humming-birds then as we have learned
since, or we should have fed it as often as every fifteen minutes,
and used honey in place of water.
[Transcriber Note--Do NOT feed Humming-birds honey. Honey does not
have the same chemical composition as floral nectar and is more
difficult for Humming-birds to digest.]
It loved to perch on the edge of a wicker basket, whose rim was so
easy to cling to. It would shimmer in the sunshine like a piece of
silk, no larger than "a great big bumble-bee."
In a few days it could fly all about the room, but it could not fix
its toes on or around anything, and would fall helpless to the floor
or drop behind the pictures.
It was cold at night, though we covered it with warm things, and
often we would warm it in our hands before morning. It needed the
warmth of its mother's breast.
It learned to drink cold water, and to expect it after each meal of
syrup, as if it wanted to rinse its mouth. It lapped up the water
like a kitten, its queer, frail tongue looking like a bit of black
thread in the clear water.
We tried to get it to take tiny spiders, which we hunted in the
garden, but it refused, and did not live with us very long.
We think we ought to have given it a little milk to take the place
of spiders, which it must have missed. We shall never try to have
another pet so frail as this; these birds seem too delicate to touch.
Our fingers are not light enough. We have a friend who kept a young
hummer for three months, and they are said to live even longer than
this when in captivity.
Of all our bird friends, we think the humming-bird the most wonderful
and interesting. This perhaps is because it is the smallest and
wisest of all the birds we know.
[Illustration]