A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN AMERICAN HUMMINGBIRD
Short Stories  Page 1
BREAKFAST WITH TIFFANY
Story by: Lizz Burris (AR)               Photos by:  Von Ptake (MI)
   A melodic mockingbird is my alarm clock.  As I stretch, I do a security check and see my friend, Larry, another ruby throated hummingbird, on a cedar branch above me.  He too has just awakened to a new day.
    After straightening a couple of stray feathers, off I fly to an outer limb, where a sawbriar leaf holds a couple of drops of dew.  I slide through the water and back on my branch to complete my morning grooming.
    Its barely light but the summer sun shows a strong promise on the horizon.  Larry gently lands in a nearby cedar and chirps, “Your lead, Buddy,” to which I dash up to the treetops and race him the quarter of a mile to our regular breakfast cafe.  Feeder House Diner, we call it.
   As we get within sight, we see many old faces and several new ones.  This tells us that the service will be slow.  Fearlessly, I zip up to the window feeder, just in time to scare Lil Annie, an older juvenile, away.
    “That’s not very nice, Buddy!” chides Sammie Jo, her mother, as she dives at me from above and I escape to a large feeder in an oak tree.  Only a quick sip before Dirk, Lil Annie’s bratty brother, dive bombs me.
    “That’s for scaring my sister, Buddy!” he chirps, proudly flashing his one little red gorget feather.
    “She doesn’t own it Dirk!” I chatter back at him as we eye each other in a hovering standoff for a minute before I chase him off to a far rose bush.
    When I return, Larry is at the large feeder and is sipping with a cute little new gal on a perch opposite him.  When I fly in, Larry gives me a look and darts at me to chase me off.
    “Larry!  What has gotten into you?”  I stop to face him as he continues to show off for the new one.
    “Get out of here, Buddy!  I found this cute gal and I just want to share a feeder with her.  Her name is Tiffany.  Isn’t she cute?”  He hovers just above me so that he can keep his eye on the female quietly drinking at the feeder. 
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.     Shrugging, I dash to the unprotected window feeder for several long sips and survey the area to my left.  This garden is filled with luscious flowers.  From hostas to bright red bee balm and from fuchsias in baskets in the arbor to columbine under the catalpa tree, there seemed to always be something of interest here.
     Suddenly Clyde, a tough old bird, flies in and we all scatter.  All of us have met with Clyde’s beak.  He uses it as a sword to ward off anyone that he doesn’t want in “his” yard.  I fly up to a dogwood tree and watch as the younger birds, zip in to take Clyde’s punishment.  Larry and Tiffany join me on a nearby branch and we laugh at the juvenile’s antics.  Larry and I both show off for
Tiffany by racing down and through the garden, just to create a scene.
     Finally Tiffany bids Larry ado and disappears into the distant rose bushes.  We discuss her a moment before the conversation turns to food again, a very popular topic with us.
    “Do you think we should find another diner on down the road?”
    “Where do you have in mind?” I ask.
    “How about the feeders beyond the pond?” he chirps.
    “Ah man!” I pipe in shaking my head, “You know that place is kind of all grown up.  It’s hard to stay out of problems over there.”
     Laughing, he says, “That’s why I suggested it.  No one goes there.”
    “Then let’s go!” I squeak. “But first...”  Larry follows me as I make a quick fly-by over at old Clyde’s just before we leave.
    “Want to race? Then follow me!” he happily clatters.  And off we go to another adventure.