When we moved out here to Forest's Edge, I learned that this is prime hummingbird territory. At least the bird books claimed it to be, although friend and neighbor K informed me that she'd yet to see one despite having a feeder out. I'd always been curious about these tiny birds: the way they flitter around so quickly, their jewel-like hues, their dainty size. Back in the days where a jaunt to Florida or the Caribbean was an every-other-month business reality, I'd always taken a moment to admire the tropical birds in the area. Hummingbirds, however, remained an unseen mystery to me.
I had already put out my main feeders off the back deck -- the finch feeder, the tube feeder, a suet feeder (promptly removed until cooler weather, regardless of WBU's encouragement to keep it out year round), and a bird bath of sorts (actually my upside-down tomato grower from Gardener's Supply, which a number of birds -- including one bathing beauty of a female red-winged blackbird -- used as a splashing zone). I was toying with the idea of buying a hummingbird feeder, but three things held me back. First, the expense. A good feeder, dishwasher safe and durable, costs about $20, not including the cost of the hummingbird nectar. Second, the bugs. In my mind, there was no way that sugary water was not going to immediately draw every insect in the area... and I tend to be squeamish about insects (yuk!). Third, I had yet to see a hummingbird, so why go to all this trouble?
That was my exact thought one evening, when I was on the steps of our studio entrance, watering the hanging baskets I'd placed there, when I heard a loud buzzing sound. I froze. I happen to be allergic to bee (wasp, hornet, yellow jacket) stings, and I had too much on my plate to be incapacitated by a bee sting. The buzzing was loud one moment, then paused, then sounded again. My curiosity -- and fear -- got the better of me and, knowing that the only flowers around were those right at my feet, I hazarded a peek down. There, its beak stuck in the cup of one of the violet flowers, was a tiny hummingbird, happily licking nectar out of the blossom. I watched as the little bird pulled its beak out, flitted around the plant, decided it had had enough, and speedily buzzed past me.
The next day, I was at WBU, buying a hummingbird feeder. I'd read that hummingbirds are partial to red, the way orioles are partial to orange and bluebirds to blue. I still don't understand this, unless these birds simply feel safer near colors that they themselves wear. I chose a purple feeder, however, seeing as the hummingbird had been at a purple flower. I also purchased a box of powdered nectar, which the sales associate assured me was simple to make. It certainly was, as I learned upon opening the box and reading the ingredients: 100 percent sucrose. In other words, sugar. I felt like the biggest newbie birder. I'd just spent about $3.50 on an instant-pudding-sized box of sugar! Disgusted with myself, I made the entire batch and vowed not to fall into that trap again (one cup granulated white sugar to four cups boiling water, stir until dissolved, cool).
In an effort to enhance my chances of viewing hummingbirds, I bought a four-armed shepherd's crook and positioned it in the front garden outside the master bedroom window, just feet away from my sighting. I didn't have to wait long. As I was positioning the feeder, a male ruby-throated hummingbird showed up, hovering in place impatiently as if I'd always had a feeder there. It flitted away as I hung the feeder, then returned just as I stepped back, waiting one second before diving into one of the feeder holes. I was completely enchanted.
Soon, two other feeders joined the purple one. I'd bought them at Lowe's, and they resembled red flying saucers with yellow "bee guard" flowers around the feeding holes (the purple one had built-in purple flower ones). I hung both off the back deck, one viewable from the breakfast nook, the other from the sitting room and master bathroom. A sleepy morning later, I was rewarded as I tottered into the bathroom by the sight of two male hummers fighting over one of the feeders. Two hummingbirds! I was delighted, and quite forgot that I was there to wash up for work, throwing my morning schedule off somewhat. I eventually replaced the bathroom-window feeder with a Droll Yankee feeder because the first one always tilted to one side, causing the feeder to swing when the hummers perched on the side where all the nectar had gathered.
Three feeders simply didn't give me enough of these little birds, however, and soon I found myself traveling to a store 30 minutes away for the sole purpose of picking up hummingbird feeders that inserted into hanging plants. Eager for more sightings, I quickly set these up in the flower baskets at the front steps. Two days later, I was returning them. These were a total waste of money; their swinging action did not attract hummingbirds, but it sure drew the ants to all the nectar that spilled. Next!!
After careful consideration, and a lot of self-persuasion to overcome my skepticism, I chose a window-mounted Droll Yankee hummingbird feeder from the Backyard Bird Company. I've never had much faith in window-mounted anything. The suction cups just did not hold in place, and the mounted items -- rain gauges, thermometers, etc. -- always tumbled to the ground. I really wanted the chance to see the hummingbirds up close, however, so I took the chance and ordered it. The mounting instructions were slightly bizarre -- instead of using water to increase the suction, using the body oils that gather behind the nose -- but I followed the instructions to a T. The feeder has yet to fall and, very shortly afterward, I had not two but three hummingbirds battling for feeding rights just outside the window where my temporary office has been set up.
The newcomer was a female ruby-throated hummer, again, plainer than her male counterparts but of a more timid disposition. She'd hover at the window feeder, cautiously making sure it was safe, before approaching for a sip. Usually, she wouldn't be there long before one of the territorial males zipped over and chased her away. This became true of all four feeders, and I began to feel sorry for the poor hummer girl. After all, it was nesting season for her, and I couldn't help but wonder if the poor little bird was simply trying to fuel herself for the task of nest-building, clutching, and brooding only to be chased off. Or pursued by eager males? I didn't know. To help her out, however, I hung up a grid of fluff to use in her nest building. I've yet to see her use it.
I've yet to see a hummingbird nest at all, although I've been encouraged by the hummingbird watch group I joined to try to locate them on my property. Good luck with that. Hummer nests are the size of walnuts. Delicately collected spiderweb silk holds the nest in place, and lichen is used to cover the exterior to camouflage it. Hummingbirds are also very particular about the location of their nests. They have to have coverage -- leaves that serve as a canopy against the sun and rain -- and the nest has to be positioned on the branch of a deciduous tree, but at a specific angle on a branch that turns downward. Thanks to this description, I spent a good 30 minutes beneath our weeping mulberry, checking every downward-turned limb for a walnut-sized nest. I'm certain the hummers had a good laugh at that.
Earlier this week, I found a gadget called the Hummingbird House. This ingenious item was designed by a hummingbird enthusiast after years of observing the little birds. It mimics the branching angle of the tree limbs favored by hummers, down to the width of the branch. It has fake leaves for coverage. It even has a bit of starter nesting material. The manufacturer recommends installing it under the eaves of the roof, but I don't see how installing it that way would work, as it would be far out of view from any window. Should I decide to splurge and get it (it costs about $30), I think I'll install it in the tree right outside my office, near the window-mounted feeder. That way, the hummers will have plenty of shade and will be right near a food source. Plus I'll be able to watch the hummer girl build her nest and raise her young.
For now, however, I'm enjoying the antics of my hummingbird trio. My window-mounted feeder is visited from dawn to dusk, every 8 to 10 minutes, by one of the male hummers... or perhaps both, taking turns. The female visits every 15 to 20 minutes, as long as I keep the mini-blinds down (she refused to approach the day I had my blinds raised in the hopes of a better photo, chittering at me from above a nearby tree branch until I lowered the blinds again). One male keeps a semi-permanent perch on the deck hook that holds not the hummingbird feeder but the oriole feeder. His shiny green back is an almost continual presence. J wondered if he enjoyed the view, or perhaps the heat radiating from the black metal hook. My thoughts are that he's guarding his claimed territory -- one of the hummingbird feeders is just one hook over -- and he's conveniently located where he can swoop and chase away intruders to his realm.
He's smart enough, though, to know not to get in the way of the orioles when they show up to feed. I'd leave, too, if something six times my size and hungry came swooping in at me, no matter how loudly I could buzz!
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