Their favorite places of resort were those woods, in which the superb bignonia abounds, and when the huge trees are garlanded with parasites; but since the cultivation of the country they frequent gardens and seem to delight in society, becoming familiar and destitute of fear, hovering over one side of a shrub while the fruit or flower is plucked from that opposite. They do not alight on the ground, but easily settle on twigs and branches, when they move sidewise in prettily measured steps, frequently opening and closing their wings, shaking and arranging the whole of their apparel with neatness and activity. They are particularly fond of spreading one wing at a time, and passing each of their quill-feathers through their bills in its whole length, when, if the sun is shining, the wing thus plumed is very transparent and light. The humming noise proceeds entirely from the surprising velocity with which they perform that motion by which they will keep their bodies in the air, apparently motionless, for hours together. When flying to any long distance, the manner of their flight is very different from that shown in speeding among flowers, for they sweep gracefully through the air in long undulations, raise themselves for some distance and then fall in a curve.
Strange as it may seem, one of the chief characteristics of this tiny creature, is its bravery. It will unhesitatingly attack the mocking-bird, or the king-bird, or any other by whom it imagines its territories invaded; it directs its sharp, needle-like bill, immediately at the eyes of its enemy, and when so employed this must be a truly formidable weapon. These birds are also extremely pugnacious among themselves—two males seldom meeting, without a battle. The combatants ascend in the air, chirping, darting and circling round each other till the eye is no longer able to follow them. They are particularly susceptible of jealousy, and, under the influence of this failing, they run tilts at each other till the less doughty champion falls exhausted to the ground.
The nests of these little creatures are very curious; they are built with great delicacy, but at the same time with much compactness and warmth. Wilson says that the nest of the ruby-throated humming-bird is generally fixed on the upper side of a horizontal branch, not among the twigs. It is sometimes, however, attached to an old moss-grown trunk, and sometimes fastened on a strong stalk or weed in the garden. It seldom builds more than ten feet from the ground. The nest is about an inch in diameter and as much in depth. The outward coat is formed of small pieces of a species of bluish-gray lichen, that vegetates on old trees and fences, thickly glued with the saliva of the bird, giving firmness and consistency to the whole as well as keeping out moisture. Within this are thick, matted layers of the fine wings of certain flying seeds, closely laid together; and, lastly, the downy substance from the great mullein, and from the stalks of the common fern, lines the whole. The base of the nest is continued round the stem of the branch to which it closely adheres, and, when viewed from below, appears a mere mossy knot or accidental protuberance. The nest of one species in Guiana is principally composed of a spongy cellular substance, apparently similar to that of a fungus, of which some kinds of wasps build large habitations, suspended from the branches of trees, and an account is given of a nest of another species composed entirely of the down of some thistle; the seed is attached and is placed outwards, giving a jagged and prickly appearance to the outside. Latham describes the nest of the black humming-bird as made of cotton, entwined around the thorns and twigs of the citron-tree, and of so firm a texture as not to be easily broken by winds. The nest of the topaz-crested is about seven eighths of an inch in diameter, also made of cotton, stuck over with lichens on the outside and firmly fixed in the hanging cleft of some strong creeper by threads of a cottony substance, and very slender roots or tendrils, the whole lower part as if cemented by a thin coat of glue. It is probable that the greater number build their nests nearly in the same manner. Descriptions, however, are given of those built in different forms—one is suspended with the entrance downwards; another is of a lengthened form, composed of dry grass and slender roots and moss, and is not made so compactly. A person, who saw a bird building her nest, describes her manner of construction as very ingenious. “Bringing a pile of small grass, she commenced upon a little twig about a quarter of an inch in diameter, immediately below a large leaf, which entirely covered and concealed the nest from above, the height from the ground being about three feet. After the nest had received two or three of these grasses, she set herself in the centre, and putting her long slender beak over the outer edge, seemed to use it and her throat much in the same way as a mason does his trowel, for the purpose of smoothing, rubbing it to and fro and sweeping quite around. Each visit to the nest seemed to occupy only a couple of seconds, and her absence from it not more than as many minutes.”
The extraordinary beauty of these strange beings has induced many attempts to tame and keep them in cages, but they have not been successful. When placed in cages and fed daintily on honey and water, and supplied every morning with fresh cups of flowers, they have been known to live for a long time in their native country, and in warm weather; but no artificial warmth has as yet kept them alive for many weeks, when transported to a less genial climate. It is conjectured, however, that with very great care and a strict regard to diet, as the doctors say, they will, by and by, be kept alive and happy in our conservatories. There was once a nest of them successfully carried to England from Jamaica. It was presented to a lady, from whose lips the little loves would deign to accept honey. One died, probably from excess of happiness; but the other, being more hardy, survived for two months. Could a lady succeed in so taming one of these winged jewels so perfectly that it would accompany her to a ball, curiously perched upon her bouquet, or hovering around the flowers which composed it, at her gentle bidding, so original an ornament would doubtless be more highly prized than
“Whole necklaces and stomachers of gems.”
The ancient Mexicans are said to have woven their plumage into gorgeous robes.
If the extraordinary beauty of these birds, their mode of existence, their nature, then habits, excite our admiration, how must we also wonder at their structure!—the perfect adaptation of their forms to that life which it is theirs to enjoy, and to the variations of that glowing climate where they abound. “On presenting a humming-bird to a common observer,” says an eminent naturalist, “the first exclamation generally is, ‘what a beautiful little creature!’—the second, ‘but what large wings he has!’ Such, indeed, is the case, and, in most instances, the size of the wings and strength of the quills are entirely out of proportion to our ideas of symmetry in a creature clothed with feathers; but, upon comparing them with its necessities and the other parts of its frame, their utility and design become obvious.” The principal reason for their possessing organs of such power is, doubtless, to enable them to pass in safety through the migrations and the long flights which are necessary for their preservation, and, during which, they have to withstand passing gales and showers. The delicious climes which they inhabit are at seasons subject to tremendous rains, which drench and almost inundate their abodes, or to hurricanes that, in a few minutes, leave but a wreck of all that was before so splendid and luxuriant. By means of these organs, before the dangerous season comes, which the unerring instinct of nature warns them to avoid, they fly to districts of country where the reparation of some previous wreck is proceeding with all the rapidity of tropical vegetation.
I cannot more pleasingly conclude these notices of the most wonderful tribe of birds, than by quoting the melodious verses of a poet, who is a native of that glowing clime which they so exquisitely adorn.
“Still sparkles here the glory of the West,
Shows his crowned head and bares his jewell’d breast,