I've been blessed of late to watch and marvel as hummingbirds have decided to take over the yard, and sip nectar (the homemade kind) from feeders now hanging from three locations in the backyard and one in the front yard — a move that you'll soon understand.
I've had a spare hook out back that I hoped would someday be a spot to attract hummingbirds. I guess through wishful hoping, I decided to leave up a couple hummingbird feeders even though they were empty. Well, except for the rain that fell into the holes where the birds fit their beak for a sip of sweet sugar-and-water.
As I was looking out the back window one day a few weeks ago as I prepared for a bite to eat, I spotted what I was confident to be a lone hummingbird.
Ah, the joy, as I've never had the tiny birds flying about. Yes, I've put up hummingbird feeders before, but it apparently was a test run to make sure I knew the correct recipe for sugar water. I did, but they didn't come around.
So, this year, I was completely unprepared.
The hummingbird took a close look at both the feeders hanging, but turned up its nose — so to speak — and went elsewhere. I soon found out why, as when I went to fill it with the good stuff, it had a mucky, semi-solid mix in the base. I'm sure it was some moldy crap that languished in the sun after each rain.
A quick dip in the sink and a thorough scrubbing got rid of the gunk.
But then nothing. I feared I had missed my chance. And I was damn mad.
Still, I headed back out for the other feeder, washed it down as well and filled it up. So now I had two unused feeders. No, I wasn't twice as mad, but I was twice as frustrated.
Until the next day. Then hallelujah, a hummer took the bait and sipped from my feeder. Frequently.
She, as I ultimately decided until I decided I was likely very wrong, soon became a frequent visitor to my yard. But as she (or he) visited more often, I noticed other movements.
It wasn't until my little hummer decided to abandon the tree at the back of the yard and set a spell on a little perch I've had hanging for nigh on to two years that I realized what the heck was happening.
She (or he) was ready to defend her (or his) turf. And she would sit on her throne not 10 feet from the house, and not more than 8 feet from the chair I sit in whilst outside. Oh sure, she (or he) would fly away when I walked out the door, but soon returned.
She (or he) didn't mind me or the dogs joining her morning or afternoon, provided we weren't too anxious to move about. Lazy dogs and a lazy me went right along with the idea.
But my little companion was anything but lazy. She (or he) was quick to defend the feeders, running off other hummers and even pondering putting up her dukes to defend against the horde of sparrows that sometimes frequented the yard. She (or he) always thought better of it, and returned to her (or his) throne.
At the peak, she (or he) was busy running off up to six would-be feeder robbers. Oh sure, they'd sneak in under cover of a feeder, or while the queen (or king) was busy chasing someone else off, and get a sip of sugar water. But it had to be quick.
That's when I decided, the hanger out at the back of the yard should go out front, along with a feeder.
The queen was none too happy. She (or he) had lost a valuable kingdom and, worked even harder to keep others away.
The beauty of it all was the feeder out front became the domain of another hummer, and apparently didn't have to fight off invading crusaders. Plus, I could watch both, depending on where I was.
To say I missed the chance to grab a few photos would be a massive mistake. I grabbed hundreds likely. And video. On my phone, on my cameras. Some good, some really sucked. I photographed so much thin air or unoccupied feeders, you'd have to laugh.
They are really — as in really, really — fast and if you aren't at the ready all the time, well forget it. I don't know how many times I'd reach for my camera or phone and poof, no bird. Even when I saw a slow intruder, the queen (or king) was there like magic and they both were gone by the time my eye looked through the viewfinder.
I worried they'd all be gone when the cold front of last week swept through, but I was kind of wrong. The throngs did leave, but one out front and as many as two out back stuck around.
They're still a joy, but not so active. There's hardly anyone to bully out back and the one out front enjoys his (or her) sugar water.
Me, I keep an eye out. I'm sure their time here is limited. Another cool front is poised to hit and likely they'll head south.
I'll miss them, of course. But it was fun.
For an old guy like me, it was nice playing with these feisty little guys (or girls). I'm just hoping for a repeat next year. I'll be better prepared, or so I hope.
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As a little footnote on another critter, a paltry few snails continued to migrate somewhere. What's left now, I presume are no longer functioning — as in dead. Interesting of course, but I still wish I knew what they heck species they are. I'll figure it out someday.
