hummingbird hatchlings

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.

C.S. Lewis

 

Sometime overnight, a miracle happened. Actually, two.

 

I snapped this photo quickly, so it’s a bit blurry. Look closely, though, and you’ll see a newborn hummingbird resting beside its discarded shell! Its tiny twin is tucked under the rim of the nest.  

 

Thank you, Mama Hummingbird, for allowing us the extraordinary privilege of welcoming your hatchlings into the world.

How does a hummingbird celebrate its birthday? You can learn about hummer hatchlings here. Also, if you want a recap of my earlier hummingbird entries and pictures, visit here, here, and here.

 

That little bird has chosen his shelter.  Above it are the stars and the
deep heaven of worlds.  Yet he is rocking himself to sleep without
caring for tomorrow’s lodging, calmly clinging to his little twig,
and leaving God to think for him.
Martin Luther

First thing every morning, I run to the window to see if mama hummingbird’s still incubating her eggs. As you can see, they still haven’t hatched.*

I’m awe-struck by the craftsmanship and materials she used to build this tiny home. With spider silk, downy feathers and lichen, she created a cushion for the eggs. Then she wove a tapestry of spider silk, to tie the nest to the branch.

 

Mama Bird is small but mighty — whenever I venture near, she zips around like a fighter jet, dive-bombing and clicking her disapproval. But as soon as I retreat with my ladder, she settles peacefully onto her nest.

 

Could it be that my curiousity is too distressing for her? I took a field trip to Wild Birds Unlimited. A hummingbird expert told me not to worry. “If she’s upset with you, she’ll get all up in your face and tell you so," he said, "but nothing will keep her away from her babies.” He did suggest, however, that I hold back once the hatchlings are about 8-9 days old. If I startle them, they might try to fly from the nest too soon.

 

I’m relieved. I don’t approach her nest every day, but I can’t seem to stay away.

 

*Hummingbirds incubate for 12-14 days. I discovered this nest on February 8^th, so I’m guessing the eggs should hatch sometime very soon. I’ll post a picture when that happens, if Mama Bird lets me get close enough to get a good shot.
  

I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.
Emily Dickinson

 

Last week, I posted a picture of the tiny hummingbird nest I discovered in the orange tree outside my window. Yesterday, I got a close-up view of the miniature eggs!  

When the mama bird zipped away for nourishment, I zoomed in with the camera lens. I managed to snap this photo before she perched again on her nest.*

 

Did you notice the leafy umbrella? And the the citrus buds, just about ready to bloom? Given a couple more days of sunshine, the morning air will be filled with heavenly perfume. 

*To put things into perspective, hummingbird nests are not much larger than a coin. 

 

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all.
–Emily Dickenson

 

A hummingbird darted past my picture window today, her tiny green wings whirring and shimmering in the sunlight. She hovered in and around our citrus trees, clicking a warning to the pair of mourning doves perched on the redwood fence close by. 

What’s she protecting, I wondered.

I grabbed my camera, dragged a ladder out of the garage, and headed into my backyard for a closer look. 

Check it out: She’s built a tiny nest in the crook of an orange tree branch! 

Notice, too, the small buds at the base of the leaf stems. They’re about ready to burst. Have you ever smelled citrus flowers? In a word, intoxicating. 
 

Hope springs eternal, doesn’t it? In the dead of winter, there’s reason for optimism.  

Happy (early) spring, everyone.