It’s almost time for our local hummingbirds to make their long journey to Mexico for the winter, like mini blackhawk helicopters thrumming their way a 1000 miles or more. Since mid-April (early this year!) we have enjoyed their antics, mating displays and rituals, but, most of all, the continual hummy wars over our feeders.
We have at least 10 hummingbirds who hang around our house. We have two feeders – a two-station feeder right in front of our house and a 6-station feeder about 50 feet from our back porch. We can see the back feeder from our dining room table. It’s like having a TV, but much more fun than watching about wars in foreign countries, oil spills, political nonsense, and whether the president is a Christian. I don’t know if their antics are purely instinct, or whether they are playing, or a combination of both. But they “protect” that feeder with the most amazing aerial displays, body blocks and tackles, sneak attacks, and dive bombs. The dive bombs are amazing – and are also part of their mating rituals. They fly straight up 30 or more feet, and then do a straight drop, beak first, pulling out of the dive at the last second. They also share the feeder at times, but then begin the attacks yet again within a few minutes. During the shows, they fly over or around the house to the front feeder and then back again, although we can’t see both at the same time. The front feeder seems more like a truce station where they can recharge on their sweet fuel, because the wars aren’t as intense there. The back station is the treasured prize, fought over again and again.
Outside our dining room window, we have a double clothes line strung between two supporting pillars for our back porch. Birds (not just our hummies) think that we put the line there for them (and I have to periodically clean bird poop off the porch). They’re probably right – I only use the line for clothes a few hours each week. And the birds buzz me when I’m hanging my wet clothes to let me know they don’t appreciate that I’m using their perch! The hummies use the line as a resting station between battles, and to catch the tiny bugs that add protein to their diets. It’s fun to watch their long tongues dart out to catch the bugs. We also see them shake their feathers, stretch their wings, and scratch their itches, and hover within an inch of our dining room windows. When we sit on the porch they often buzz us, going back and forth a foot or so from our faces for as long as 45 seconds before returning to their perch. We stay very still and talk softly to them during these visits. Last year one hummy tried to feed from my husband’s nose (yuck!) – stuck its beak into his nose and darted his tongue out. I can’t image how weird that must have felt (and we hope the hummy survived his nose germs!).
Within a month, they will be gone. We will miss them, until next Spring. Adios!
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