Hummingbirds have played a big role in this summer’s back yard bird activities. I’ve fed hummers other summers, but this year, these teeny birds have been unusually lively, giving me a unique experience several days ago.
I was inspecting the nasturtium blooms on one of my potted plants, admiring its creamy yellow flowers, minding my own business when a hummingbird swooped down and hovered briefly on a nearby bloom.
I’d never been this close to a hummingbird, so I didn’t move a muscle, worried that the tiny creature would zoom away if I made the slightest motion.
While I stayed frozen in place, the little bird flitted from flower to flower. Hard to believe, but, at one point, the hummingbird was no more than six inches from my face.
It was Zen-like, two different species communing. I was thinking that sort of thought when another hummingbird decided to visit the same plant. It darted at my hummingbird with a click-click noise. The two minuscule birds then engaged in “beak to beak” combat. They zipped to and fro in a regular dogfight. As they fought, they emitted squeaks and little click-clicking noises. The battle became so heated that, finally, the intruder knocked my bird into my face, and I felt the light touch of feathers on my cheek.
My little friend made a squeaking noise, which must have been its war cry and, in a violent rush, flew back at the intruder who decided it had enough. I watched as my bird friend calmly returned to the business of sipping nectar. Eventually, it flew away, leaving me amazed.
However, the hummingbirds aren’t the only critters around. One lone red squirrel I’ve named Rodney frequents the area. Rodney also spent a good deal of this summer creating a mystery.
Something had been tampering with my hummingbird feeder, which stands in my garden on a long pole with a hook for hanging flower baskets. Earlier in the summer, the grated yellow plastic globes which the hummingbirds sip the sugar water from went missing. What could possibly have twisted off the centers of the flower feeders?
I bought another feeder and resumed my normal summer. Once again, the yellow globes disappeared. This time I went on a mission. As I looked through the tangled mess of daylilies and the thorny branches of the rose bush, I began to find small yellow globes. It could only be the work of Rodney, the red squirrel.
This story has a happy ending for me but not our poor red squirrel. Dick rigged a squirrel barrier from a five-pound gallon bucket, hung it under the hummer feeder, and we haven’t had any trouble since.
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