"The creature suddenly rose again."
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The photographer saw it in the little window, and evidently thinking that the whale looked as pleasant as it, in all probability, would, touched the button, and took the first photograph of a living whale in the open ocean—the one shown above.
The Santa Catalina channel is famous for its whales, and they are frequently seen from the steamer that plies between the mainland and the island of Santa Catalina. While I write, there lies on the beach a huge specimen that was killed by a swordfish.
Some terrible contests have been observed between the great whales and these ocean swordsmen. Such a contest occurred opposite the little harbor of Avalon, Santa Catalina, and was watched by a small boatload of spectators who drifted near. A swordfish and a killer or small-toothed whale attacked the larger whale from below, and in its rage the latter appeared almost to stand upon its head, striking the water fearful blows from side to side with its tail. The battle was continued for several minutes, the whale being nearly helpless before its agile enemies.
On one occasion a whale rose so high above the water in a sudden, mighty leap, and so near my boat, that a photograph could have been taken. As the huge mass loomed up I thought it was a rock, and turned to the boatman, to ask an explanation; but as it fell with a crash, I saw that it was a whale that had thrown itself almost entirely out of the water. According to Captain Basil Hall, a whale has been known to leap over a boat.
TIDDLYWINKS.
NOT far from the old Mission of San Gabriel, so near, in fact, that the sweet notes of the angelus could be heard, stood an olive tree which tradition said had been planted by the padres under Father Junipero, nearly a century before. Now the old tree, still beautiful, its leaves green and silvery, formed a portion of a modern southern California garden, and, being partly concealed by a clump of bananas and the orange grove, was a favorite resort for birds of many kinds that made the land of continual summer their home.
Among them were two hummingbirds—beautiful feathered bits of animation that had selected the old tree as a permanent home, and were now engaged in collecting material for the nest. Long journeys were made, and material of every available kind, such as horsehair, bits of wool, shreds of cotton, and the delicate down of the thistle, was used in the construction of the nest, that gradually assumed an oblong shape. The interior was lined with soft, fluffy feathers and thistledown; but it was the exterior that displayed the skill of the little builders. The nest was placed in a crotch of the tree, so that from below it was almost invisible. The birds evidently intended it to look like a part of the tree; so they collected minute bits of moss from various trees, and attached them to the outside of the nest until it was entirely covered, and looked sufficiently like the bark of the tree to deceive any mischievous enemy.
A little later the smallest of eggs might have been seen in the nest, and finally the little ones appeared—curious-looking creatures, that opened enormous mouths at the slightest noise, and kept the parents busy providing food.
The humming bird family progressed finely until one day when one of the little birds, in the absence of its parents, determined to look over the edge of the nest and see something of the outside world. Scrambling up, it perched on the edge; then, in astonishment, perhaps, at the wonders it beheld, it lost its balance and fell, vainly fluttering, to the ground. It was nearly night, so the little bird lay there until early the next morning, when it was discovered by the gardener, lying almost in a pool of water. Placing it in his handkerchief, the man carried it into the house; and here the history of Tiddlywinks begins.
Tiddlywinks was immediately adopted by the young lady of the house, who made him a soft nest in her button basket, and fed him with sweetened water, which he took readily from the end of a broom splint. Indeed, from that moment the little bird, hardly larger than a thimble, seemed to recognize her as his protector, and lost all fear. He soon learned to fly, and, as he gained strength in his wings, he gradually flitted from room to room, and from person to person, without the slightest fear. Sometimes he would disappear among the plants of the beautiful home; but when his mistress would call, "Come, Tiddly," the little atom would come hurrying through the air, to alight on her head or shoulder, though he preferred her finger. He always expected something, and begged in this way for a fly or some sweetened water, turning his head quickly from side to side, his bright little eyes seeming to tell what he wished to say. Taking him on her finger, his mistress would walk around the room, holding him up to the window, where he would catch all the minute flies and insects on the panes, darting at them with the rapidity of lightning. A small vial was kept filled with sweetened water, and, when called, Tiddlywinks would poise in the air as he would at a flower and drink while his mistress held the bottle.
His domestication was perfect. When the family went to meals, Tiddlywinks often accompanied them, taking his position on the edge of the sugar bowl, and there waiting patiently, or otherwise, as the case might be, for his sugar, which was sometimes placed for him in a spoon across the top of the bowl, and of which he partook with evident satisfaction.
"Tiddlywinks would drink while his mistress held the bottle."
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At night he flew to a great banana leaf that hung as a decoration across the top of an alcove in the studio, roosting on the coiled portion of the tip end. He never slept with his head under his wing, like other birds, but simply collected himself into as small a space as possible. In the morning he displayed his satisfaction at seeing his mistress again, and invariably bade her good morning by twittering short but musical notes.
There are few pets, especially birds, which do not sometimes evince a desire for freedom; yet this atom was perfectly contented with his home, and never showed the least inclination to escape. One day one of the household went out into the garden, and hearing a piping sound, he saw that Tiddlywinks was resting upon his shoulder. The tiny creature had probably alighted there as he passed out of the house; but instead of flying away and taking his liberty, as might have been expected, he remained perfectly quiet while the gentleman walked back into the house. Tiddlywinks lived for some time, and became widely known for his remarkable intelligence; but, like many pets, he finally succumbed to an accident.
Several cases are on record of attempts to tame humming birds, but when placed in a cage they do not thrive, and soon die. The orange groves of southern California abound in these attractive creatures, and several may often be seen about the flowering bushes, seeking food or chasing each other in play. Once, when living on the slopes of the Sierra Madre Mountains, where the humming birds were very plentiful, I accomplished the feat of taking an adult humming bird in my hand. I first noticed it in the garden, resting on a mustard stalk, and wishing to see how near I could approach, I gradually moved toward it, by pretending to be otherwise engaged, until I was within five feet of it. The bird looked at me calmly, and I moved slowly nearer, whistling gently to attract its attention, as I began to think something was the matter with it. It bent its head upon one side, eyed me sharply, then flew to another stalk a few feet away, contemplating me as before. Again I approached, taking care not to alarm it, and this time I was almost within reaching distance before it flew away.
The bird seemed to have a growing confidence in me, and I became more and more deliberate in my movements, until I finally stood beside it, the little creature gazing at me with its head tipped upon one side, as if questioning what I was about. I then withdrew and approached again, repeating this several times before I stretched out my hand to take it, at which it flew to another bush. But the next time it allowed me to grasp it, and I had caught a wild bird in my hand, without even using salt.
In a succeeding year a pair of humming birds occupied an orange tree near my garden. The nest was not five feet from the ground, within easy reach, but very difficult to see. When I first discovered it, and successfully photographed the mother bird sitting upon her nest, with a background of golden oranges, the young birds had appeared—marvelous little creatures which looked more like some grotesque creation of the imagination than birds.
I watched the fuzzy atoms day by day, and soon began to share the labor of the parent, in feeding them with drops of sweetened water, which they readily took. In a short time they began to exercise their wings, and one morning, anticipating their flight, I severed the limb on which the nest rested, and removed the young birds to my study. The following day they left the nest, and I found them perched upon its sides, making short and erratic flights into the air. Then began the most interesting period of their existence—at least, to me. The birds were absolutely without fear. They at first vociferously demanded their sugar and water many times a day, but when fully fledged flew about the room, alighting upon my head or finger, exacting constant attention. They would come when called, and would find their way downstairs, frequently going to the dining room and resting on any convenient perch, or among the flowers on the table.
The perfect confidence which these little creatures displayed was remarkable. At night they perched on the edge of a small basket in a closet, and in the early morning they would fly to my bed, poise over it and fan my face with their wonderful wings, and awaken me with the loud buzzing. Then would begin a vociferous demand for breakfast, and they would not be refused or put aside. Usually they ate in the air, as from a flower, poising and licking the sweetened water with the long, delicate tongue. To strangers the pets extended the same friendly attentions, and more than one visitor to the house was amazed at the beelike creatures flying about the rooms, and alighting here and there to rest a moment, displaying the greatest confidence and absolute lack of fear.
While the humming birds are the most delicate of the bird creation, veritable feathered atoms, their powers of flight are remarkable. Individuals of the ruby-throated variety have been seen to approach the steamers ten miles out at sea, during the flight from the mainland to Santa Catalina, a distance of twenty miles. Others, during the migrations, fly from the lowlands of Mexico to the arctic circle and back during the year, thus equaling many of the most powerful birds in endurance or the faculty of covering long distances.
One of the curious features of humming birds is that they are never found in Europe, being exclusively American, ranging from the extreme north and south to the tropics, adding to the beauty of field and grove, being veritable living gems. Nothing can approach the humming bird in its gorgeous decoration. It is especially rich in the metallic tints, seemingly splashed with red, blue, green, and other bronzes. Some appear to be decked in a coat of mail, others blazing in the sunlight with headdresses and breastplates, dazzling to behold. The smallest of birds, they are one of the most beautiful of the many ornaments of our fields and gardens.