Rufous Hummingbird, my watchful backyard buddy
When we assume hummingbird consciousness, our life becomes a wonderland of sensuous delights. We live for beauty, delighting in flowers, aromas, fine mist, delicate tastes.
Hummingbirds awaken us to the beauty of the present moment. —David Carson
In you is all of Heaven
Every leaf that falls is given life, in you
Each bird that ever sang… will sing again, in you. —A Course in Miracles
I’m still reveling in my experiences last week with the Harlem Gospel Choir. More to come about that, and soon, but I first need to find adequate words with which to express their shimmering magic.
In the meantime, how about a hummingbird hatchling update?
When last we visited their nest together, the siblings were doing flight simulations. Four days later, on February 19th, I witnessed something rare and wonderful.
Walela’s babies been riding the wind currents all day, hanging ten on the edge of their nest. Whew, scary! If the video’s jumpy in a few spots, it’s because I was more than a little nervous. But when the winds died down, the birds were safely ensconced in their nest, seemingly unruffled by their wild ride.
Later that same evening, I climbed our rickety wooden ladder, cell phone snugged to my ear so I could talk to my sister Sheryll while also snapping a few last pictures before nightfall. Quite the balancing act, I must say, but boy howdy, was it worth the effort!
They were playing a game of do-so-do on their cottony perch, when suddenly…well, see for yourself. The bigger hatchling hovered over its sibling for just a few seconds, propelled itself backward and then soared on tiny wings over the red tile roof that sheltered it, from egg to fledge, in Walela’s nest.
The next morning, our new fledgling had nestled into the birdbath beyond my kitchen window, about 15 feet from its former home. Sheryll called it Sunshine, and that seems fitting for this tiny bird with shimmery feathers. (I took this next sequence of pictures through my front window, so they’re a bit blurry. But oh, are you as happy to see him flourishing as I am?)
Walela’s nurturing her baby while it gets acclimated to life beyond the nest, as mamas are wont to do.
Over the next several days, she’ll show Sunshine how to forage for food and survive on its own in the wild.
Motherhood is hard work!
Hovercraft mama that she is, Walela also watches over the hatchling that remains in the nest, preening its pinfeathers and practicing flight maneuvers on its own.
Here’s what it looked like, the day after its sibling fledged. Lonely, you think?
Walela visits often. I took these snapshots yesterday morning.
We’ve since decided to call her Jennifer (“Jenny”), in memory of Reverend Jennifer Durant, who inspired many, living with ALS as she did–with a featherlight spirit and a heart filled with joy.
She still has a few pinfeathers tucked into her tail, but I suspect Jenny will be taking to the skies sometime today or tomorrow.
It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for a bird 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
Walela’s hatchlings are 15 and 17 days old now. *sniff* Time flies, and wow, haven’t they grown?
When they’re not snuggled side-by-side in the nest, waiting for Walela to bring them another meal, they’re flapping their wings and wriggling precipitously on its edge.
This video footage shows them for the survivors they are. It ends on a really sweet note, but given all their daredevil aerobatics, it’s not for the faint-of-heart.
They’ll fledge within a week, so while these flight simulations seem scary to us as bystanders, they are critical to the hummingbird babies’ ultimate survival.
Here’s a shorter, tamer video, for the good eggs among us who might’ve watched only a portion of the first video through splayed fingers. So funny, the way they poke Walela’s chest with their growing beaks, as if to say, “Mom, Mom, is it lunch time yet? Mom?” And see how she preens their pinfeathers at the end?
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding.
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as bird wings. —Rumi
We celebrated my friend Karin’s birthday last Friday by getting together at my house for lunch. “A rare fusion of fluff and majesty,” she’s a peony in my friendship garden.
One of the highlights of the afternoon: Seeing pure, unadulterated joy spread across Karin’s face as she climbed the ladder and peeked into Walela’s hummingbird nest.
And look! Walela took the spotlight in her evening wear, right after she left. Those iridescent feathers rival anything haute couture we might’ve seen at the Grammys last night. Agree?
For reasons unknown to us, the hatchling to the right of the screen didn’t make it. That’s Mother Nature’s doing, and the undoing of some who are fortunate enough to witness miracles like this as they unfold. Of course I’m sad–who wouldn’t be? But I’m comforted by the fact that there’s a greater power at work here, with wisdom beyond our own understanding.
Shadows sometimes fall when we least expect them. But sure as daylight follows night, “Joy cometh in the morning.” Want proof? This little guy just opened his peepers!
(Missed the previous days' entries? Here's the link. )
Day 9. "It's Nature's way," I am told. And it's statistically true that only 50% of hummingbird hatchlings grow iridescent wings and fledge. But numbers count for nothing, when you're trying to reconcile wishes with reality…reality being that one of the baby hummingbirds fell from the nest this morning. I don't know the how or why, but it was already dead when I found it.
Day 11. At this point, the hatchling is covered with pinfeathers, so Hope broods less often, even at night. To avoid attracting the attention of predators, she steers clear of the nest, save for the few seconds it takes to feed her hatchling. Feeding intervals vary, from less than ten minutes to more than an hour and a half.
Day 12. Look in the upper left corner: you can see one of the hatchling's tiny wings!
The nest is slanted, thanks to the heavy winds and rains, but it's not going anyway. That's because hummingbirds lash their nests to nearby branches with spider silk, which is at once flexible and super-strong. Hope brooded last night, and again today. I think she's trying to keep her hatchling warm while the nest dries.
Day 14. Hope allowed me a couple of pictures before she buzzed past my head, clicking and helicoptering her tiny wings.
As you can see from this second picture, the hatchling's pinfeather casings are breaking open now, and the beak is much darker. Before long, we'll see its iridescent feathers. Hope's baby must surely have a neck ache by now, what with staying in that position for lo, these many days. But I'm pretty sure it has something to do with balancing itself on a downward-tilted nest.
Day 15. Hope's hatchling has all its pinfeathers now, and is beginning to sprout real feathers. It lies motionless for much of the time, so as not to attract predators, but it raises its beak whenever it senses Hope is near.
Within the confines of its nest, the hatchling strengthens its flying muscles. It does this by gripping the floor with its feet and flapping its wings. Random fact: from the time they first hatch, baby hummingbirds do everything they can to drop their waste over the side of the nest (FYI, in case you hadn't already noticed).
Day 16. Look! The hummingbird hatchling's got tiny tail feathers! This picture also shows the downward slant of the nest–quite the balancing act, no? Time to fledge: 7 days and counting…
Missed the first set of pictures? Go back to Hope's Hatchlings, Part One
Want to see more? Hope's Hatchling's, Part Three (and a naming contest)
Two tiny eggs, one hidden from view
She carries light on her gossamer wings, quilts earth and sky together with her long, slender beak.
Protective mamas, this hummingbird and me
Be like a bird
That pausing in her flight
Awhile on boughs to light,
Feels them give way
Beneath her and yet sings,
Knowing that she hath wings.
Victor Marie Hugo
It's National Bird Day, so who else to celebrate this Thankful Thursday than our fine feathered friends!
Here's a photograph of Tama and Itzel, who graced my citrus trees a few years back. I'm grateful for the beauty their mother bestowed on my home, and for the life lessons her hatchlings offered as they broke free of their shells, sprouted long beaks and pinfeathers, and eventually took wing. Their story weaves together tragedy, triumph, and transcendence, as all good stories do, and lingers with me now….
(This series of posts chronicles "my" hummingbirds' lives, from egg to fledge.)
Phoebe's* been zipping around her rose bush this morning, practicing her take-offs and landings. Last year's nest is completely refurbished, and it looks like she'll be laying new eggs really soon…
*I should mention here that this may or may not be the Phoebe we've come to know and love. By way of explanation, here's what the site operator had to say: "It is too difficult to determine who it is from season to season. By choosing to occupy the rose bush [the nest builder we're seeing here] agrees to be called Phoebe of the manor."
It's National Hummingbird Day! And why not? Though they are tiny, hummingbirds are standouts…Mother Nature's magnificent little creatures. ♥
Pictured here: Tama and Itzel, the hummingbird hatchlings who nested in the citrus tree outside my picture window.
Abagail Alfano lives in Pine, Louisiana–a convenient landing spot for migrating hummingbirds. Lucky girl, about 20 of the tiny birds took a shine to her backyard.
She admired them from a distance at first, but inched closer to them every day. She bought their confidence with sugar water, familiarizing them with her presence as she replenished their feeder. On the morning pictured here, she filled a little red dish with sugar water and…
…miracle of miracles, they sipped the nectar right out of her hand!
This is what some might call a holy ghost moment–a wondrous, shivery-magic experience that occurs when we least expect it. Serendipity, when we most need it to happen.
A similar thing happened for me just last week. Not with hummingbirds, but with my writing. I’m not a fast writer, as my long-time friends already know. I labor over each and every passage, down to the tiniest jot and tittle. But last week, glory be, I had an out-of-body experience in which the words flowed straight from my heart to the page, unedited and unrestrained. When I finally looked up at the clock, I was shocked to discover that hours upon hours had vanished altogether, leaving a trail of filled pages in their wake.
And so it is that I’m holding out that cup again this morning, asking in all humbleness for a similar blessing.
Although I’ve edited it slightly, I got this story in pictures from my friend Karen, who forwarded it to me in an email. For some oddball reason, she said it reminded her of me. J Snopes verified the original story, as did Abagail herself (photos via her husband, credited at the link).