Focus

Good Morning from Northview

Where things are humming. Must be the young entry is off the nest and in the air. Although the one in flight looks like a female, the faintly barred throat leads me to believe that it is a young male. It certainly is inquisitive, as it gave me a good looking over and was noodling around in a geranium about six inches from my ear.

You can Run

But you can't hide. Fall is upon us, calendar or no. The goldenrod is barely in bloom, but the nights are chilly, mornings are sweatshirt cool, and the fog is thick as eggplant sauce. The air rings with the calls of blue jays and black-capped chickadees and the dogs are getting furry.

This week I thought the hummers were gone, wrote mental poetry to their absence, and was saddened by the lack. 

They don't usually leave without saying goodbye at the window but sometimes......

They are the court jesters of the summer porch, always clowning around and squabbling like a litter of puppies. I cleaned the feeders day before yesterday and during the hours that they were down the birds seemed to vanish. The feeders glistened in the sun, the wasps partook, but no crazy little buzz bombs whizzed and zoomed among the geraniums. It troubled me. I am a hater of winter....don't know why I live here in the frozen spaces....and I am in no way ready for anything about it, especially the shrouding of all the windows in dense, dull plastic, cutting me off from out there as surely as death.

Then yesterday noon, just one came back. I willed it to come over close to comfort me one last time......and lo and behold it did! It really did! I wished it would fly over and hover in front of me as they sometimes do and within seconds there it was. 

We contemplated one another for a moment, me in my old red chair, it suspended between beating wings like a feathered pocketbook on a strap or a heavy waisted bumblebee.It was a moment...you know the kind I mean.

It made good and sure that I saw it and knew that it had come because I asked and then was off about its business.

This morning at dawn they were back as if they had never left. I will savor every feather as long as time allows me.

Standoffish

Click to embiggen...if you really want to see a wasp that close.

This yellow jacket not only wanted to feed from the hummer jar, she thought she owned it too. No matter where the poor hummer tried to land...there are several feeding spots...she ran after her fiercely. The hummer finally flew away, discouraged....which is when I got out my little can....of wasp spray.

See What I Mean

Living with Ruby

Throated hummingbirds that is. Our pair had a pair I think, of playful youngsters that tumble through the air like pups. They are as tame as pups too, as long as I don't touch the camera. They like me just fine, but that big black eye is way too scary.

They come to sit on the hooks at the top of the hanging flower baskets when I am on the porch. (there is not room to hang them all, so they provide perfect little perches for perfect little birds.)

They are so very curious. I was awaiting a storm yesterday while shooting unusual clouds and succulent flowers. They came, buzzing like bombers, flipping like a deck of cards. Around and around my head, close, only inches away. Then one sat down in the variegated pink geranium, right next to me. She looked me up and down, tipping her pointy chin, then tucking it into her feathers, then whirring purposefully away, only to return for just one more peek.

I think maybe we bird watchers are a bit arrogant in thinking we are the only ones. I think she goes back to the Mountain Ash tree where she keeps her tiny field guide and turns the little pages, trying to learn more about the creature she has found...hmmmm....what is it...what is it?.

I think yesterday she put me on her life list..... ticking off the field marks....slightly bent steel rimmed glasses (don't drop them and step on them while taking pictures of bugs) Check...

Soft, blue chambray shirt...check....bare feet check.

Yep, sure enough, it is one of those fat old farmer ladies var. bluejeaniensis. Wow, never thought I would see one of those....Check.

Company for Breakfast

*Do click any for detail

Maybe It's Just a Sprain

Trust...or maybe I just look like a bump on a log

Blessing

Standing on the sitting porch in the mid day sun. Suddenly, a breeze on my arm, an eager buzz and I am being investigated.

Closely, bzzz, bzzz, bzzz, tiny jet bead eyes staring into my eyes as if wondering what I am. Pausing finally for a quick nip of sugar juice, back feathers glowing fire coal green, then back to buzz bombing me again.

Soon there are three of them, whirring around my head like airplanes on a baby's mobile. Sometimes it is a very fine thing to be the center of attention.

I think the hummingbirds have children.

Curious, glorious, bright green children.

I like them

The Humming Hen

I must have passed inspection. She hovered inches in front of my face, peering into my eyes with her round bright ones. Small eyes to have so much to say, like jet beads in shining jade. The camera hung around my neck...sunrise you know...but if I moved she would be gone..poof...the way they do. So frozen I watched as she plumbed and probed cactus flower and geranium, flitting over every so often to re-inspect the edges of my shirt sleeves and peer into my eyes. She stayed a long time for someone in such a hurry.