Clark University, Worcester, Mass.
IN the Nature Study course of the Summer School, a little time was devoted to the honey bee, life of the hive, care and management, and especially the work of bees in cross-pollination of flowers and fruits. The closing "laboratory exercise" in the subject consisted in a honey spread, the honey being removed from the glass hive in the window of the laboratory, in the presence of the class, and distributed with hot biscuits and butter, cream and fresh milk. The spread was pronounced the most enjoyable "laboratory work" ever done by members of the class, but to crown the event in the most exquisite way possible, a Hummingbird flew into an open window, and darting, unafraid, in and out among the noisy groups of fifty or more busy people, it rifled the various flowers with which the laboratory was decorated. In closing the windows for the night it was accidentally imprisoned, and on visiting the room next morning (Sunday), I found it still humming about the flowers. Thinking that it might be a female, with nestlings awaiting its return, I gently placed an insect net over it with the intention of passing it out of the window. It proved, however, on closer inspection, to be a young male, so I thought it could do no harm to keep it a day or two for acquaintance sake. No sooner was my finger, with a drop of honey on it, brought within reach, than it thrust its bill and long tongue out through the net and licked up the honey with evident delight. Releasing it from the net, I dropped honey into a number of the flowers, sprinkling water over them at the same time, and it immediately began feasting and drinking. As it flew about it taught me its bright little chirp, evidently a note of delight and satisfaction. When I visited the laboratory again at noon, I took in my hand a few heads of red clover and a nasturtium with its horn filled with honey. On giving the chirp a few times, it flew straight to the flowers in my hand, probed each clover tube, drank its fill from the nasturtium, and, perching contentedly on my finger, wiped its bill, preened its feathers, spread out its tail, scratched its head, and for the space of a minute or two looked me over and made himself the most delightful of tiny friends. The next time I entered the room, about two hours later, he flew to the door to meet me, and this time I took him home, the better to care for him during the afternoon and evening. In the course of the afternoon about a dozen friends called. Each one was provided with a nasturtium into which a drop of honey had been placed, and nearly the whole time the little bird was flying from one to the other, perching on fingers or sipping from the flowers held in the hand or buttonhole, to the delight of everybody, none of the company having ever seen a live Hummingbird so close by.
NEST AND EGGS OF HUMMINGBIRD SEEN FROM ABOVE
Situated in an apple tree 8 feet from the ground
Photographed from nature by E. G. Tabor, Meridian, N. Y., June 16, 1897
In the evening he went to roost high up on a chandelier, and in trying to catch him with the net to put him in a safe cage for the night, he fell like a dead bird to the carpet. I held him warm in my hand, thinking that he was about to breathe his last, but anxious to save the precious little life if possible, I very gently opened the bill and inserted a pellet of crushed spiders' eggs as large as a good-sized sweet pea, following it with a drop of water. He had been feigning, probably, as they are known to do; at any rate, in a minute he was as bright and lively as ever. His room for the night was a large insect cage of wire screen filled with convenient twigs and a large bowl of flowers. At five in the morning I fed him honey and young spiders, and again at six. At eight I had a lecture, the subject of which happened to be the taming of wild birds and attracting them about our homes. Removing all flowers from his cage to let his appetite sharpen for the two intervening hours, I set the cage on a table by my side on the lecture platform. I had taken pains to have two fresh nasturtiums in my buttonhole, one well loaded with honey, the other filled with the juices of crushed spiders and spiders' eggs. On reaching the topic of approaching birds in the right way, appealing to them along the lines of their tastes and appetites, appealing to the "right end" of a bird, I had only to open the door, give the familiar chirp, and the little charmer was probing the flowers. Then, as if anxious to show off, he again perched on my hand and went through his post prandial toilet, thus giving the class an idea of bird-taming which no amount of books or anything I might have said could have possibly equaled. Many expressed themselves as never having seen so successful a "demonstration." Some said that I must be in league with higher powers, and it all must have been "providential." This may be true, for anything I know to the contrary. But it may have been simply improving the opportunities of a happy accident; and 'accidents,' we know, "never happen among the Hottentots." If flowers and honey can do it, at any rate, such accidents shall be more frequent about my home in the future.
A Peculiarity of a Caged Skylark
BY H. M. COLLINS
