af eccentricities,
however, was the conduct of another one of the same clump, which during
a northwest gale came down at the back, and somehow wedged itself
between the nest and branch, so that it formed a perfect shield on that
side, so snug indeed that the mother could hardly get under it to feed
her little ones. And so it remained all day, during a wind that
threatened to blow the whole tree down. I am aware that this will be
hard to credit. But I examined it carefully; I know the mother did not
arrange it, and I do not exaggerate in the slightest degree.

[Sidenote: _GROWING UP._]

Let me picture the apple-tree babies at one week old, or seven and eight
days respectively--to be exact. On taking my regular morning observation
I noticed white spine-like processes, the beginning of feathers, among
the hairs on their bodies. The heads looked as if covered with, in the
language of commerce, a "fine mix," minutest possible white specks on a
black ground, which, as days went by, increased in size and length till
they developed into feathers. Beaks, too, were changing. The broad, flat
surface showed inclination to draw into a point at the tip, which would
go on stretching up day by day, till by the time the birdlings could fly
they would be nearly as well equipped for hummingbird life as the mother
herself. On that seventh day, also, I discovered the first voluntary
movement; one of the pair lifted his head above the edge of the nest,
and changed his position on the bed of cotton.

Now began the restlessness characteristic of our smallest bird. From the
age of one week they were rarely for a moment still, excepting when
asleep. One moment they would lie side by side, two tiny beaks sticking
up close together, and the next, one would struggle and twist about till
his beak showed on the opposite side. Occasionally one made himself
comfortable by lying across his fellow, but very soon the lower one
squirmed out from under. At nine days they filled the nest so full that
their bodies showed above the edge, and gave it the appearance from my
window of being filled with hairy and very restless caterpillars.

The eighth and the ninth day of their little lives opened their eyes on
the beautiful green world about them, and backs began to look ragged, as
if feathers were at hand. Character was developing also. When mamma
touched a closed beak in invitation to lunch, it would sometimes respond
with a quick little jerk, as who should