Millbrook Marsh: Hummingbird in the Rain

Apparently late July is monsoon season in central PA these days. Who knew? And so it was that we were in for several days of very heavy drenching rains. It was storming when I left home on Monday morning, but as I drove to work, it seemed I was driving out of the worst of it.

When I got to State College, I discovered the rain had just turned into a light drizzle; actually, more like mist. I thought I'd make the most of the break, so I stopped at Millbrook Marsh, a place I haven't visited in several months. I grabbed my camera and my umbrella and headed out onto the marsh.

The first place I checked out was the little pollinator garden near the parking lot. I was standing there admiring the beautiful colors of monarda and an especially pleasing stand of pink echinacea, when I heard a little whir, and a tiny, very special visitor arrived.

The hummingbird hung in the air above me, and then it landed on a branch not more than 10 feet from where I stood. It simply sat there in the light mist, turning this way and that, not really seeming to mind me, and I got about a dozen decent shots. I noticed a bit of red on its chin and so deduced it was a male juvenile ruby throat.

After we spent several quiet moments together, I heard the sound of the rain picking up; the tiny bird whirred away and I put my umbrella up and strolled about the marsh. It was the first time I'd visited since the end of April, when I arrived to discover the marsh shorn and strange looking. Some plants are starting to grow back in and it doesn't look quite so odd these days.

For whatever reason, I tend not to visit the marsh much in summertime; I'm more a fan of the winter marsh. Everything is so lush and green there right now that it's amazing. I've put a photo of the wooden boardwalk and the green trees along the misty run in the extras so you may see the bigger picture.

On my way back to the car, I stopped for a moment to photograph the raindrops on the run. Patterns made and broken, reformed. Circles and dots. Lines moving and forming and bumping each other and forming again. Mesmerizing.

Suddenly, I noticed the drops were getting bigger, and I tucked my camera in its bag and hurried back to the car, as fast as was prudent on the slick boardwalk. I managed to protect the camera, but the back of my shirt got soaked, and it stayed soaked until about 3 in the afternoon. The photos I got were well worth a good soaking; or at least, I like to think so.

The song: Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, with The Rain Song.