Magical Hummingbirds in the Garden

Did I ever tell you the story of the first time I saw a hummingbird? I probably have, because I tell this story a lot. It's a moment for me that still stands out in memory as a moment crystallized and frozen by awe- and mystery, and magic.

I was about 11 or 12 years old. My place at the dinner table in our family dining room on Long Island faced a window. My mother sat across from me. Behind her I could see a window which overlooked the driveway, a short strip of grass and bushes, and then Mr. Hoffman's house. If you've ever seen the shots that open All in the Family and you see how close the houses are to one another, that about sums up Floral Park; a bit greener, a bit more suburban, but we could still see into each other's houses unless the blinds were drawn.

My dad had hung window boxes on the eastern side of the house - two, one under the kitchen window and one under the dining room window. Each year he planted pink or red geraniums.  On that magical June day, I remember siting at the table eating dinner. I looked up at a strange sound and there in the window, hovering over the geraniums, was a hummingbird.

The bird looked at me quizzically, sipped a bit from the geranium, then zoomed off on his next errand.

I tried to call out to my family what it was but by the time the word "Hummingbird!" escaped, it was gone. At first no one believed me. Hummingbird sightings are rare on Long Island!  But I knew what I had seen. I felt privy to a mystery. I was in awe of the tiny creature, and from then on, my fascination with hummingbirds grew.

Now that I live in Virginia, hummingbirds are abundant from April through late September. I have a feeder next to my front porch and each morning I love to sit there with Shadow and a good cup of coffee and watch the show. The hummingbirds check Shadow out at first, but when they realize that the big furry dog is no threat, they continue to feed.

I have one fat ruby-throated male I've nicknamed "Chief" because he sits on top of the feeder pole like a chieftain of old, jealously guarding "his" nectar source.  He chases away females, juveniles, and any male foolish enough to challenge his claim to the "flower."  Sometimes the least are first, however, when Chief is fooled into battling off another male and leaves his post; females and juveniles wait in the pine trees, chattering, until the male lures Chief away, and then they descend hungrily on the feeder.  Chief swoops back and angrily shoos them away, but by then it's too late; they leave, satisfied.

My sister's birthday was this week and I mailed her a beautiful hummingbird feeder I found at a local store. She called me last night and was very excited by the addition. Her children peppered her with questions, remembering the feeder on my porch; would they get a lot of hummingbirds too? What could they do to keep it clean and safe for the birds? Where should they place the new feeder so they could see it easily from the house?

I hope that they too get to see the magic of a hummingbird. There really is something quite special about these sweet, curious and intelligent birds.

(Hummingbird picture is from Morguefile; the porch with the flag is really my front porch, and that's just where I like to sit.  And the geranium is my photo too.)