At once the elder bird took the little ones in charge, and coaxed them to fly out with him. He led them to a place where he had found the tiny spiders these birds like, and showed them how to get what they wanted.

They all ate their fill and then came back to the house, where they were well contented to be.

The way the mother hummingbird feeds her babies is curious. When she comes with food, she alights on the edge of the nest, and pulls a little one up so that she can get at it. Then she runs her long, slim bill down its throat, and pokes the food in with little jerks. It looks as if it would kill the youngster, but he seems to like it. Anyway, he grows very fast, and--as I said--in three weeks he is beautifully feathered, with a bill as long as his mother's, and ready to fly.

A lady who had two young hummingbirds told me that they slept so soundly they were like dead birds. One could take them up and carry them about, and they would not wake. In cold weather she often wrapped one up in a piece of flannel and laid him in a soft, warm place, and he never stirred till morning.

The way she got this pair of birds was interesting. She was walking in the woods and broke a dead branch from a tree, to use for something. On turning it over she saw a nest, and strange to say two little birds in it. She had been holding it upside down, but they had held on so tightly that they did not fall out.

The lady did not know what to do. She did not want baby hummingbirds, but she couldn't put the branch back, and she was afraid their mother would not find them if she left them. So she took them home. She had no trouble to feed them, and they lived with her six weeks, and died by accident at last.

It is thought that the male ruby-throat does not come to the nest at all, but he must have some way of knowing how things are going on. At Mrs. Wright's summer home a mother hummingbird was killed in a hailstorm, while young were in the nest. At once the father, or at least a male bird, came and fed and took care of the nestlings till they flew.

In California one of the most common of this family is ANNA'S HUMMINGBIRD. He is green, with a throat and crown of changeable colors, lilac and red.

The nest of this bird is usually, like the ruby-throat's, of plant down covered with lichens. But some have been found made of the blossoms of the eucalyptus, or gum-tree. This bird is as easily tamed as the ruby-throat, and seems to act a good deal like him.

Mrs. Grinnell found a nest in her yard in California. The mother allowed herself to be photographed in many positions. The young ones were never afraid, and did not mind the camera in the least. Hummingbirds never seem to have any fear of people.

FOOTNOTE:

[20] See Appendix, 19.

XXVII

THE SWIFT FAMILY

(_Micropodidae_)[21]

SWIFTS are curious birds, with strange habits. The one we know by sight in the East is the chimney swift. Most like him in the West is Vaux's swift. His ways are like the common chimney swift's, and his looks nearly the same.

The CHIMNEY SWIFT is often called the chimney swallow, but it is very easy to tell one from a swallow. One way is, that when a swift is flying about over our heads, he looks as if he had no tail. The tail is very short, not half so long as the wing. He looks more like a bat than a bird.

Then the swift flies in a different way. A swallow soars a good deal, that is, moves without beating the wings, a sort of gliding through the air. But a swift beats the wings much more frequently. A swallow will often alight on a telegraph-wire or a roof. A swift is said never to alight except to sleep.

This bird is so much at home on wing that he even gets the twigs to make the nest while flying. These twigs are the smallest ones on the ends of dead branches, and are easily snapped off. The bird flies at them, s.n.a.t.c.hes one in beak or feet, breaks it off, and goes right on, without stopping.

When he gets his twig, he carries it to a dark, sooty chimney. A queer place for a home, surely. They used to choose a hollow tree or a cave to live in, and that seems much nicer. But chimneys are now more plentiful than hollow trees. And besides, they are nearer the bird's food. So chimney homes are now the fashion in the swift family.

To make a swift nest, the twigs are glued to the chimney in the shape of a little bracket. The glue is the saliva of the bird, which is gummy, and gets hard as it dries, and looks like isingla.s.s.

The mouth of a chimney swift is very odd. You have heard of "stretching a mouth from ear to ear." That's just what the swift does every time he opens his. It needs to be big, for he gathers up his food in it. While he is flying around in the air, he is busy catching tiny flying creatures, such as flies and beetles, and thus keeping the air clear for us.

The tail of this bird is another queer thing. It has no soft feathery tips like most birds' tails. It ends in sharp spines, like needles.

These are most useful to brace him against the rough chimney where he sleeps. These spines are really the stiff shafts or stems of the feathers, sticking out beyond the plumey part.

The chimney swift hangs himself up to sleep. He fastens his sharp claws into the rough bricks, and props himself firmly with his spiny tail.

Even when the young swift is but two weeks old, he crawls out of the nest and hangs himself up under it. He seems to like that for a change from forever lying in a narrow bracket.

Chimney swifts are social birds. They can't bear to be alone. They are almost always seen flying about in small parties, and calling to each other as they go, a strange, chattering cry. They are of a sooty color suitable to their sooty home, and the pair are alike. Vaux's swift is a little smaller and paler than the common chimney swift.

The young swift is longer in his nursery than any bird of his size in the United States. He is four weeks old before he ventures out of his grimy home, though before that he will come up to the door to be fed.

A late writer in a newspaper tells a little story showing the affection of a chimney swift for her little one. The writer had watched all summer a party of swifts who lived in one of his chimneys. A month or more after he supposed that all had flown away to the South beyond our southern boundary, where they spend the winter, he heard the twittering of one in the chimney. He took out the fireboard and found there a young bird. He was full grown and able to fly, but he was fastened by a horsehair to the nest. This had been pulled off by his weight, and lay on the hearth, holding him prisoner.

The little fellow seemed to know he was to be helped, for he lay still while the man looked to see what was the matter. His mother soon came into the chimney with food. She took her place beside the man and waited, while he cut the strong hair and set the nestling free.

Then the old bird went to work to teach him to fly. It was an hour or more before he learned to use his wings. As soon as he did, the two started off on their lonely journey to the far South, to join their friends who had been gone so long. How I wish we could know that they reached them.

Insects were about gone when this happened, and this swift mother would have died if she had stayed, but she would not leave her little one to starve.

It is a beautiful thing to see a large flock of swifts go to bed. If they all rushed in pell-mell, they might hurt one another. They begin by flying around high above the chimney in great circles. As they go around they sink lower, and the circles get smaller till it looks like an immense whirling funnel. When the birds forming the lower part of the funnel reach the top of the chimney, they plunge in. So in a short time the whole flock is in and no one hurt.

FOOTNOTE:

[21] See Appendix, 20.

XXVIII

THE GOATSUCKER FAMILY

(_Caprimulgidae_)[22]

THESE are queer-looking birds, having their front toes tied together by a kind of webbing, and almost no hind toe at all. The mouth, too, is almost as odd as the toes. It has a short beak, but is very wide, and it opens from ear to ear like the swift's. The plumage is so soft that the birds can fly without making the least sound.

The two most common goatsuckers are the whip-poor-will and the nighthawk. They are both as large as a robin, and stouter. They are dressed in dull brown, and black and white, mottled all over. If you just glanced at the two, you might think them alike. But they are not marked alike, and all their ways are so different that there is no trouble in telling them apart.

The WHIP-POOR-WILL has broad white tailmarks, with stripes on the back, and a narrow white band across the breast. He comes out only in the evening, and he flies low, without making a sound. He rests lengthwise of a log or fence, not across it as most birds do. His feet are too short to clasp a perch.

On his log or fence the whip-poor-will sits and sings while he waits for his supper. You all know his song, his lively "whip-poor-will" over and over many times. It is a delightful evening sound, which I love to hear.

It is said that his notes have been counted, and he has been found to repeat them several hundred times without stopping.

When moths or other creatures which fly in the night come along, he catches them in his big mouth. But he is not obliged always to wait.

Sometimes he flies near the ground like a shadow, looking for prey, and he often hops awkwardly along the road, for the same purpose. He picks up straggling insects, and in the West locusts.

The whip-poor-will mother makes no nest. She finds a little hollow in the ground, among leaves or near bushes in the woods, and that's good enough for her nestlings. She lays two eggs, speckled and mottled so that they look like the ground and leaves around them. She looks almost the same herself. You might walk close to her and not see her.

When young whip-poor-wills come out of the egg, they are dressed in speckled gray down. They cuddle down quietly by their mother, and the whole family is hard to see. When their eyes are shut, they look almost exactly like the earth and leaves among which they lie.