Cornell/Ruby-throated hummingbird

EVERY day, at this time of year, hummingbirds appear in our backyard — just a few ruby-throated hummingbirds, not the hordes this blackberry farmer attracted to his fields.

Hummingbirds are extremely popular creatures, but we don’t entice them to our yard with feeders. They just appear, spending less than a minute at a time but coming many times during the course of the day, whirring and hovering, drilling with their fantastic, needle-shaped beaks into the tubular salvia blossoms and other flowers, taking away with their speedy, trademark sips the nectar that sustains them or grabbing a few barely visible insects.

For many years the hummingbirds were afraid of us and as soon as we walked out the back door they would fly away in a flash. Now we can stand a few inches away and they don’t flee. I don’t know why this is. I assume different birds come each year, but then hummingbirds can live as long as nine years, so perhaps it is possible, after traveling thousands of miles from Central America in the spring, they come back to the same yard — and have gotten used to us. I don’t know whether this is possible. I only know I can now stand close to them, look right into their jet black eyes, see the details of their emerald backs and iridescent, red or white throats — and hear the whirring of their wings, which move so fast they cannot be seen by the human eye and make the birds appear as if suspended in air. When I’m weeding, I sometimes hear the tiny, humming motors passing very close to my ears. They don’t seem to mind my presence. Maybe some hummingbirds are just not as fearful as others.

Hummingbirds beat their wings more than 50 times a second — yes, a second — and everyone who has seen one will likely never forget how quickly they zip around, moving vertically and horizontally like a helicopter. If each animal has a defining trait, then the defining trait of the hummingbird, in my opinion, is hunger. He is always famished. He is fast because he is ravenous. Occasionally, I have seen one take a break on a branch from his scouring, hyper-active search for food, but it is only for a few seconds at a time. A hummingbird will eat as many as 2,000 insects a day and ingest his weight in nectar. Some people would say the hummingbird is so hungry because he is so fast.

Nature leaves reverberations in our minds.

A neighbor came to water some plants and her daughter saw a hummingbird that hovered very close to her head. She was amazed, but she may not have realized that the speed of this tiny creature has made an impression that leaves other impressions, like a stone dropped in a pond.

When the hummingbirds are gone, their energy lingers.

It lingers in the air and in my own mind. They are part of my psychic universe. I recall their speed, their prodigious hunger and how there was always enough for them. Impressions — flashes of hummingbird-ness — appear and disappear so vanishingly fast — they flit through the mind even faster than these tiny birds appear and disappear in the yard. I have retained something.

I am not the same.

I have seen and heard something that I myself cannot express — only the hummingbird can express it.

— Comments —

S.K. Orr writes:

I’ve been watching, thinking about, and writing about my hummingbirds for the past few days. They are just about the most exquisite creatures at our farm, made even more so by the relatively short period of months they are with us.

Perhaps I’m eccentric, but I truly believe these little winged jewels do recognize and remember us. I do not subscribe to the worldly idea that a small brain equals small intelligence; our Father endowed all of His creation with what they need, not just to survive, but to point to His glory.

I have been feeding a group of crows for several years now, and it’s very clear that some of them, especially their “leader,” recognize me. Studies have demonstrated that crows can remember human faces for up to twenty years, can make and use tools, and can imitate other birds, human voices, and even machinery (chain saws, machine guns, explosions, etc.).

I’ve had that same experience as your neighbor’s daughter, where the hummingbird comes up to my face and seems to study me. I believe that’s what they’re doing. And who is to say that they don’t remember us? That they don’t intentionally head back to the same house or acres every spring of their lifetimes because they remember where the good food and the kind folk are?

This is how I like to think of them, anyway. And you’re right. They change us. The very encounter shows us something wondrous.

Many thanks again for the post, my friend.

Laura writes:

“Winged jewels” — that’s exactly right. I think that’s why people are so fascinated with them: they are so tiny and beautiful — and smart. They fly at eye-level like butterflies, making them easier to get to know than other birds. I can’t even conceive of how far they fly when they migrate! They can fly over 1,200 miles without a break. And yet after all that exciting, international travel, they don’t mind hanging out in a suburban yard.

Thanks for your observations.

Joseph A. writes:

Thank you for your meditation on hummingbirds. They are treasures, indeed. I’ve read that they do return to the same summer home year after year, and there seems to be plenty of evidence for this. Many hummingbird enthusiasts “train” the birds to feed from their hands — you can buy special nectar feeders for this. Some look like candy-rings. When the birds return each summer, they know immediately to feast on their host’s hand . . . something that a bird unfamiliar with the hand-feeder would never do. Unless the birds are swapping stories and providing really good directions while hanging out at Tropical Louie’s on New Year’s Day, it’s clear that the birds return to their old haunts each spring.

We have many feeder stations throughout the garden; we put them out at the beginning of April and leave them until late October. We usually get migrant feeders early in the season, but then we always have a dearth of customers until the beginning of July. Around the Fourth, we get the season regulars. I’ve asked naturalists about this, and they’ve told me that we’re getting young birds who have left their nests or empty-nester adult females. The males are territorial; so, unless one picks your plot of paradise to proctor, you may not see any bright red throats. If you only get regulars late in the season, you may be experiencing the same. To get (non-transient) regulars earlier in the season, one must have nesters nearby. We’ve not yet had the luck to have hummingbird mothers raise their young in the garden, but we hope each year that the previous year’s young lassies will decide to make a merry home here come springtime.

One of the most spectacular hummingbird gatherings that I’ve ever seen was at the Missouri-Mississippi confluence park nature center in St. Louis. Amazing — “flocks” of hummers feasting at multiple feeders. Very surprising when you’re used to stingy, bossy individuals who are jealous of every drop of sugar water.

Laura writes:

Ah, okay. Thank you. That explains things.

We have had males (or a male) this summer. Generally the pattern is similar to yours, but the birds seemed to come earlier this year and stay so we must have had some nesting. Last year, we saw hummingbirds as late as October.

Just yesterday, a female hummingbird came up to me as I was sitting outside and hovered in front of me about a foot and a half from my face. I think she’s heard of those hand feeders and wants one.

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