Hummingbird Days

We've moved into the hottest part of summer, with our daily highs around 90 degrees. It's best to keep the feeders clean and full at all times, but I try to change the hummingbird feeder even more often in these temperatures. So even though there was a bit of liquid left in it, on this morning, I dumped the feeder out and went inside and refilled it with a mixture of sugar to water in a 1:4 ratio.

Boy, was I rewarded! I took the clean, refilled hummingbird feeder back outside within minutes of taking it down. And suddenly the air was a-buzz with the little birds! I almost couldn't believe my eyes. First there were two, then a third, then FOUR little birds zipping around chattering their way through the skies.

I love to watch them at the feeder, and they do drink there. However, these days, their favorite food source seems to be the huge red monarda (bee balm) blooms in the butterfly garden. I've sat in a chair in the yard and watched the tiny birds fly from flower to flower, tasting each and every one.

One of the things that's fun to see is when one of the little birds perches on the fence railing around the butterfly garden. A little bird will typically sit for a while, checking the sky for other incoming birds. The head is often tilted a bit, with a slightly quizzical look on the face.

As I was sitting in my chair in front of the butterfly garden, I saw one of the little birds take a seat, its tiny feet clutching the fence. And I realized that I could shoot THROUGH all the greenery of the garden to get a portrait of the bird. This was the resulting shot.

The bird in this photo has the typical "five o'clock beard shadow" of a juvenile male ruby throat hummingbird. A female usually has a clean white throat. An adult male has a bright red gorget. This young male has dark streaks on its throat - the throat will turn red upon its first winter. (You may learn more about discerning gender of hummingbirds here.)

With temperatures as hot as they have been, it's tough to enjoy the outdoors any time except the mornings and evenings. In the mornings, if there is time at all, I like to sit in my favorite lawn chair in the side yard for 20 to 30 minutes and hang out with the little birds.

Many mornings, first thing, I am greeted by one of my little friends, full of squeaks and chatters and good humor. I have to admit that it makes me feel like some kind of Disney Princess, as I sing out Good Morning and blow kisses to the creatures in my yard. When I call to them, the little birds hang there and look at me, and even seem to dance a little in the air, and they chirp right back.

We hadn't had rain since July 13th, and so things have become quite dry around here. But on this evening, a tremendously powerful thunder and lightning storm moved through. It had been so long since we'd seen rain that my husband and I decided to sit on the front porch and enjoy the show.

And so there we sat, in our chairs, each with a cold drink and with some jamming tunes on the iPad, and we watched the storm arrive. First came the big winds, which sent all the dry leaves scattering before them. I looked in the sky and saw several groups of tiny flying creatures moving before the storm - birds, I guess? Then came the first big hot drops of rain. Oh, the SMELL of a fresh summer rain!

Then - what was this? I spotted a tiny bird, and then another one, zooming through the rain; realized it was our hummingbirds, zipping about. Could they be . . . playing in the rain? It was pretty impressive, as the rain was fierce by then. (And yes, there is research to demonstrate that hummingbirds can maintain flight control, even in the rain.)

And then I waited a bit until the electric part of the storm was done, waited until I couldn't take it any longer. The day had been hot but the rain was cool and it brought the temperatures down. It kissed the dry earth. It brought life again. I joined in myself: I put on my bathing suit, and like the hummingbirds, went out and danced in the sweet summer rain.

The soundtrack: Lee Ann Womack, with I Hope You Dance.