Once upon a time there was a family of Humming Birds who always spent the winter in Mexico. In this family, besides the father and mother, there was a grandfather and grandmother, and also a great-grandfather and great-grandmother, and ever so many children. It was the custom of the Humming Bird family to spend Christmas day together, and they assembled early in the morning in a beautiful live oak tree, the leaves of which were so much like holly leaves that no Christmas wreaths were needed. The tree was a handsome one and suitable in every way for a Christmas Humming Bird party. At last every one had come except young Master Topaza Humming Bird, who could not resist the temptation of flying from place to place along the way, thrusting his long bill, of which he was very proud, into the beautiful blossoms which he found, and taking a little sip of honey from each one. Great-grandfather Humming Bird missed Master Topaza and called to his little brother Iris to go and find him and bring him immediately to the oak tree. Iris promptly obeyed and soon returned with his brother. Then great-grandfather, who always was given first place on such occasions, fluttered his wings and said: "Dear children, were our cousins, the Swifts, invited to take part with us in our concert this afternoon?"

"Oh, yes," said Mamma Humming Bird, "I met papa Swift one day while I was getting honey from the beautiful red blossoms of a shrub which grows in the southern end of this valley. I invited him to come to-day and bring all his family, and he said he would, and also that he would come early, for he wished to have us tell him about the lovely place where we spent last summer."

Little Coquette Humming Bird sat watching her brother Helenae—what a queer name for a boy Humming Bird, you think—but probably his parents gave it to him because he was always prinking and preening his feathers. "Just like a girl," his brothers said. But however much Coquette might preen her feathers, she never looked as beautiful as her brother Helenae, and that was what she was thinking about as she watched him. He carefully arranged the three long, slender, greenish-black feathers which grew on either side of his head, and the metallic green feathers of his throat were so glistening and bright that little Coquette imagined she could see herself in them as she could in a little spring where she often went for a drink. After Helenae had finished his toilet he moved his wings very rapidly a few times, and raised himself up as high as he could on his feet without taking them off the limb on which he sat, then he settled down, closing his eyes for a moment. Just then Coquette cried out: "The Swifts are coming! Look, no one else could fly so fast! There they are near those old mahogany trees on the bank of the river." There was a grand rustle of preparation that everything might be in order and every one look his best when the cousins arrived. In a few moments mamma Swift and her daughter Cyprelus came, alighting on the same branch together. Then there was a whir of wings that sounded like the wind flapping the sails on a sail-boat, and there was an excited chirping of welcomes and "Merry Christmas" on both sides.

Grandfather Humming Bird was a good story-teller, and his wife, who was the dearest old lady Humming Bird in the world, had often advised him to write a book of his travels on the leaves of the lovely rose-laurel bush, but Grandfather Humming Bird told her that writing books of travel was too humdrum for a Humming Bird; that such work was only for that queer creature called man. Several Humming Birds then said that they felt very friendly toward man, because he loved flowers and took such pains to plant them every spring. And the Swifts, with one accord, said they were much indebted to man for his chimneys, for they made the best building places possible. "Before the white man came to this country," said grandfather Swift, "our ancestors had to build their nests in old hollow trees." "The red man was an admirer of ours," said uncle Tarsi Swift, who was an old bachelor and a little cross sometimes. "I could get along very well without the white man and his chimneys. He has driven the red man away, and cut down the grand old forests. When I was a child nothing pleased me better than to see an Indian chief, with his high moccasins trimmed with feathers. I know he trimmed them that way to make his legs look like ours." "But he could not make his feet look like yours if he tried," spoke up a pert young Humming Bird, who, with a group of others, was looking and listening in a quiet corner, and he glanced down at uncle Tarsi Swift's first toe, which was turned forwards and he counted the phalanges in uncle Tarsi's toes and compared them with his own. Three of Uncle Tarsi's toes were alike, but all of the pert Humming Bird's were different.

"No," said several Swifts in chorus, "only the penguins and cormorants have toes like ours, and they are birds we seldom meet. We are glad there are so few feet exactly like ours. We can tell each other everywhere by our feet and our ten tail feathers.

"I knew a swallow once who had lost two tail feathers," said one of the Swift cousins, "and he tried to pass himself off as a Swift. But he could not change his feet and so he deceived nobody.

"Well, as for me," said the pert Humming Bird, "I would rather have feet that were not so peculiar as to attract everybody's attention." "Indeed," said cousin Swift, "and what do you think of having a bill three or four times as long as any of your neighbors?" "At least my bill does not open away under my eyes like yours does, cousin Swift!"

Grandmamma Humming Bird knew very well that the Humming Bird family was thought to be quarrelsome by almost every one, and was very much mortified by hearing this conversation. "Children," she said, "you know it is not right to hurt people's feelings by talking about their peculiarities, and I hope none of my dear little Humming Birds will offend their Christmas guests." After this there was no more cross talk in the pert Humming Bird's corner, for all loved grandmother Humming Bird and tried to do as she wished to have them.

There was a sudden lull in the conversation and great-grandfather Humming Bird asked grandfather Humming Bird to describe the place where his family had spent the summer just passed. "It was a lovely place near a lake in Southern Wisconsin," said he. "Many honeysuckle and dogwood bushes grew there, and wild rose bushes, and wild grape vines, and clematis, and large purple vetches. Grandmother and I built our nest in a grapevine angle, and often in the warm summer evenings the wind would rock our babies to sleep. There was a place not far away, which I know you would find a pleasant home for next summer. It is up on a hill, not far from the lake. There is a house there with one chimney from which the smoke never comes all summer long. In the big yard there are beautiful trees and fragrant flowering shrubs and beds filled with flowers. A lady lives there who is loved by all the birds, for she never frightens them, and every day she feeds them and talks to them. So they build nests in her trees and sing for her.

"This summer, in a beautiful shady place, near a syringa thicket, she made a house out of a big box for a mother hen who had fifteen little downy chicks, and every day when she fed the chickens she left enough food so that the birds could have some, too. And all, even the little yellow canaries, used to help themselves. This did not please the old mother hen very well, and if she could have gotten out of her box-house, I think she would have chased the birds away. One day a bold blackbird walked into her house to get some grains of corn, when he thought she was not looking. But before he could get out again she pulled three feathers out of his tail and laid them down, as a warning, where all the other birds could see them. I heard the lady afterwards telling the mother hen that she must not be so selfish, and the next time she fed the chickens she put several handfuls of corn where the blackbirds could get it, without having their tail-feathers pulled out. I have seen the lady put pieces of string and bits of soft cotton cloth and old rope where the birds could get them, to help make their nests. And I saw her feeding a little orphan owl with angle worms. The little owl was very fond of her and sat on her fingers and twisted his neck and winked his great eyes. Whenever he heard her talking he gave a queer little screech, for he knew her voice. He was a great eater and he expected her to give him something to eat every time she went where he was. One day that lady was sitting on her porch listening to the birds singing. At one end of the porch was a large lilac bush in full bloom, and I was enjoying myself among the blossoms. Once in a while I would fly to a flower bed not far from the opposite end of the porch, where there was a big bunch of belladonna with its lovely blue and mauve blossoms. The lady seemed to like lilacs best, for she had fastened a large bunch in her belt, and sat with her hands folded in her lap, dreaming a day dream, I suppose.

Once, on my way from the flower-bed to the lilac bush, I flew up to the bunch of blossoms which the lady had in her belt. You know I am seldom afraid of anything and I knew the dear lady would not harm me. But she seemed very much surprised when I stopped at her bunch of blossoms. 'O-o-h!' she said, but very softly, and unclasped her hands in her surprise. I flew away quickly to the lilac bush, and after a while I looked at the lady and she was smiling pleasantly and watching me."

When grandfather Humming Bird had said all this, he flew away to another branch of the oak tree and moved his wings so fast that one could not see how he did it. Papa Swift thanked him for the pleasure he had given by his stories of his last summer's home, and it was finally agreed that the Swifts and Humming Birds should start together for the north in the spring.

The young birds of both families were anxious for the concert to begin. Papa Swift, who was considered the best singer by everybody, flew to the very top of the oak tree and began his prettiest song. It was not long before several Swifts and Humming Birds had joined him. They all sang and flew from branch to branch. A bird concert is not like one given by children. The children all sing the same song and sing it together, but in a bird concert everyone sings to please himself. He begins just when he feels like it, and sings his own song. But for all that, a bird concert is very pretty music. Some proud birds, who were spending the afternoon near by, and who had better voices than the ones in the oak tree, pretended that they did not like such a "noise," as they called it, and flew away across the river. But this did not keep the Swifts and Humming Birds from enjoying themselves.

Before the time for good-byes came they promised to see each other often, and everyone promised to be ready to go away in the spring. Little Cyprelus dreamed that night of the pleasant times she would have the next summer in the pretty place grandfather Humming Bird had told about, and Coquette and Topaza said they wondered if the lady who lived by the beautiful lake would have as many flower-beds this summer as she had last.

Now this lady, whom grandfather Humming Bird had been telling about, was Aunt Dorothy. She was a great bird lover, and it made her happy to find that she could number the Swifts among her particular bird friends when they came the next summer to live in her yard.

One morning Aunt Dorothy waked up very early. She looked out of her eastern window and saw that the sky beyond the lake was a beautiful rose color, but the sun was not yet risen. Aunt Dorothy was sleepy, so she closed her eyes again, but just as she did so she heard a strange twittering noise and wondered where it came from. Her curiosity was so great that she could not go to sleep again, so she rose and dressed herself and, after saying a little prayer to the great All-Father to keep her through the day, she went to find out what the noise was. But she had already thought that it must be birds in the chimney. She climbed up on a chair and listened near the chimney hole. Soon she heard a fluttering of wings and a chirping. Mamma Swift was coming with some worms for her babies' breakfast. Her babies, like a great many girl and boy babies, waked up very early in the morning and were quite troublesome. In order to quiet them, Mamma Swift was forced to find some worms before sunrise. Aunt Dorothy was delighted. If she made a little noise near the chimney hole the baby birds thought it was their mother coming with food for them, and they stretched their heads up out of the nest, so Aunt Dorothy could see them. Often, when she was writing or reading in her room she could hear the birds in the chimney. She knew the papa and mamma bird had to work very hard, for they came many, many times a day with food for the baby Swifts. But there came a day when the nest in the chimney was empty, for the little birds had gone away with their parents and were learning to fly through the trees and to catch insects to eat. It made Aunt Dorothy lonesome to sit in her room after that, and instead she used to go out of doors where she could watch the birds.

One day she took a fire-shovel and with it managed to loosen the nest and take it out of the chimney without breaking it. The shape of it was like half of a deep saucer, and it was made principally of the petioles or stems of grapevine leaves laid across each other as the logs are in building log houses. The big ends of the leaf stems alternated with the small ones and stuck out, making a bristling outside wall for the nest. There were two or three very slender cedar twigs no bigger than a darning-needle used in making the nest, and these the birds had brought from a long distance. The nest looked as if it had been covered with glue, and this was because the birds had covered it with their saliva and that held the leaf stems together just as glue would. Aunt Dorothy knew a man who went to some islands in the Pacific ocean, where the Pigmy Swifts live. Pigmy means little, and these Swifts are smaller than the ones who built in Aunt Dorothy's chimney. The Pigmy Swifts build their nests in caves. Some of them build very far in the caves, where it is entirely dark. Aunt Dorothy's friend went one day with another man to a cave to get some bird's nests.

These men had a ladder made of rattan, on which they had to climb in order to reach the nests. The man who climbed highest had a long four-pronged spear, with a lighted candle fixed on it a few inches below the prongs. By the aid of the light he found some nests. With the spear he took them unbroken from the rock. When he had gotten a nest between the prongs of the spear, he held it so the man lower down on the ladder could reach the end of it, and let it down through his hands until he could take the bird's nest from between the prongs of the spear and put it in his pocket.

When Aunt Dorothy's friend came back to America he brought some of these bird's nests with him and gave one to her.

The Chinese people think these bird's nests are very good to eat, and make soup of them. Aunt Dorothy put the nest, which she had taken from the chimney, into her cabinet with the one from the island in the Pacific ocean. One day in the fall she took some of her little friends for a walk and they picked up a basketful of leaf stems under the elm and linden trees, and with them they made some bird's nests which they covered with glue and which looked very much like the one Aunt Dorothy found in her chimney.

Mary Grant O'Sheridan.