I got told off by a hummingbird the
other day. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience. He was a very angry little
bird, and laughing at him didn’t calm him down any.
First, I should probably explain my
position on hummingbirds. My grandmother fed them, my mother feeds them, I don’t
and I get lectured for it on a semi-regular basis. Not just by the hummingbird.
Yes, they’re fun to have buzzing around, but hummingbirds come to rely on you
keeping those feeders full and I’m realistic about my level of commitment. I’ll
plant flowers for them (mostly for the bees, but hummingbirds can take a sip if
they’re inclined), but refilling feeders is on my schedule, not theirs, and I don’t want them dependent on me.
Also, I’ve always had cats growing
up and they can catch a hummingbird. It’s true. A smart cat knows those little
suckers keep coming to the same place, and leap from the most unlikely spots to
knock them out of the air as they come and go. Putting a feeder far enough away
from anything a cat can launch from means it’s less likely for me to refill it
every other day. So, for the good of the hummingbirds, I’ll enjoy them from
afar or when visiting people more committed.
The hummingbirds know my position
on the subject of their daily Thanksgiving. When I sit outside on my
mother-in-law’s patio, relaxing in the shade and a warm summer breeze, they
dive bomb me. I’m serious. The Girl thinks it’s hysterical. My mother-in-law is
confused and actually apologizes that
her hummingbirds have such poor manners.
People, don’t apologize on behalf
of a wild bird, it’s ridiculous.
So the other day while we were
packing the car and therefore in and out of the house quite a bit, a
hummingbird inspected every foot of our roofline. Closely. The Girl followed
him around the house watching and reported back. Every foot. Not the roof, just
where nice people hang hummingbird
feeders. Then he came back and buzzed me, hovered, squeaked (let’s be real,
they don’t really chirp like other birds), and zipped up to the roof line above
the garage door and scooted along it. He inspected that bit thoroughly, coming
back near me to squeak before doing it again.
What did we learn from this? I
speak hummingbird. Also, someone else in our little cul-de-sac has feeders and
didn’t keep them filled or he would have been there instead of pestering me.
Someone taught this flying squeaky toy to come to our area for food, and
dropped the ball. Probably a vacation situation.
What else did we learn? That I’m
disinclined to take hints from birds. A stray cat shows up and I’ll put a dish
of food out. Milk sometimes or leftover meat from dinner. If it’s winter, I’ll
even heat it. You’d think I have dozens of strays, but no. At the moment there’s
one. That means we have an indoor cat and an outdoor cat. They don’t get along when
the indoor cat goes outdoors or we’d have two indoor-outdoor cats. (Cat math
isn’t as straightforward as many think, it’s a matter of understanding cats.
Yes the outdoor cat appears to be fixed, so the kitten-multiplication formula
isn’t necessary.)
And finally, we learned The Girl
takes after me. Rather than begging to put up a hummingbird feeder, she started
knocking on the neighbors’ doors to remind them to fill their feeders because we had a stray that probably belonged to
someone else’s charm (that’s a group of hummingbirds. Isn’t it charming?).
I should probably mention that our
indoor and outdoor cats were the closest together that I’ve seen in a long time
while watching this bird in his misguided attempts to communicate with us.
Neither cat was in hunting mode: the bird was on guard and too high to even
consider, but they both lay in the grass (just mowed so it wasn’t offering any
concealment, but hey, cats) and watched the bird. Little ears flicking
occasionally, tails almost constantly twitching, eyes glued to that bird. That is one great thing about hummingbirds, if
there isn’t a feeder the cats can use as bait, they keep the neighborhood
felines entertained. Now I want more squirrels.
