hummolitshort4

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN AMERICAN HUMMINGBIRD

Short Story Page 4

SUPPER AT THE O.K. CORRAL

Story by: Lizz Burris (AR) Photos by: Von Ptake (MI)

Leisurely I meander toward the Feeder House Diner, visiting five yards along the way, two with feeders. Occasionally I would see a familiar face and we would play a game of ‘Stay Away from my Feeder.’ Dashing after each other in a well loved game. But the sun was dipping farther and farther in the sky.
Finally I could see our favorite cafe up ahead and flew to a maple tree to see what was happening. The rush had not begun just yet but I knew it would start at anytime. I zipped to a large strawberry shaped feeder and grabbed three sips before Dirk saw me and began to chase me back and forth through the yard.

Knowing that I could out-run Dirk was comforting but still he was right on my tail. Then he sees another male Ruby at one of the feeders and dismisses me for a go at the new guy. Calmly I preen in a nearby tree before slipping down to the window feeder for a cool appetizer.
The late afternoon breeze is light and assists in allowing Dirk to maneuver easily in his chase of the unknown male. They race past me and I feel uncomfortable. As they come back by, I lift away from the feeder and the new guy takes my place. Dirk is right there buzzing him but the new guy stands strong and grabs a couple of quick sips before turning to chase Dirk. I chuckle at the thought of Dirk being chased and slip back to the feeder perch for several more sips.
From behind me, Sammie Jo rushes up and calls out, “I have little ones to feed, if you don’t mind, Buddy.” I fly over to a cardinal vine and sip from it, while she drinks and drinks. Soon she is off around the house and gone. I return to the window feeder for more of the golden nectar, only to find Tiffany sipping.

“Hey Tiffany! How’s it going?” as I join her at the other perch.
    “How did you know my name?” she asks.
    “My friend, Larry told me this morning.” Talking with her now, I can understand why Larry was attracted to her. She had the longest neck I had seen in a long while.
    “Oh, yes, Larry.” she chirps. “ Gosh he’s a persistent fellow, isn’t he?” She giggles, then turns to fly over to another feeder while I watch.

Suddenly from over my shoulder, I see Clyde and he’s heading straight for me. I rise up and hover above the feeder but he is still coming for me.
    “I see you’ve been talking with my girl, Claire.” he says.
    Stuttering just a little, I reply the first thing to come to my head. “I didn’t think there was any harm in being polite.” I fly up and Clyde follows.
    “Buddy, boy, you just need to keep your beak shut and you’ll do alright.” he chatters away at me. As I fly up and down, he remains in my face.
    “Won’t that make it a little hard to eat?” I tease him, then realize that Clyde is no mood to kid around.
    I watch for a chance to escape and finally find one when Sammie Jo sneaks around the corner. But Clyde’s attention jumps back to me as quick as it left and he is chasing me all over the yard and even through the thick foliage of several cedar trees. Finally I dip down through a cedar and out to a trellis of moonflowers, just starting to open. Clyde loses sight of me and swings back to the yard quickly filling with other hummingbirds eager for a nibble before dark.
     On a far branch I see Claire and Tiffany chasing each other and I go to a forsythia bush near them to watch. Over my shoulder I see a swarm of gnats forming and zip through them for a bite. This catches the eye of the girls and they momentarily stop their game and follow suit. Fearing that Clyde would catch me with the girls, I moved on to a branch high in an oak tree. A vantage point perfect for watching the girls and all the games.
    The summer sun is slowly dropping off to sleep and I know I have little time before I will do the same thing. No time for games now, so I head back down to the feeders, catching a quick sip at two different ones and showing no fear to the juveniles that attempt to chase me away.
    Now I must go to my nightly roost in an old tree a quarter of a mile away. I often wondered why this location feels so comforting and why I keep coming back. Larry says that it’s always a fun place to hang out, but I think it runs deeper than that. Possibly this is where I was raised. I will never know as each year it looks a little different, but somehow I find it and return to it for my summers.

Larry appears on a nearby limb while I scratch and preen to prepare for the night.
   “Where did you go?” he chirps.
    “Oh just around.” There was no sense in telling all of my secret feeder locations.
    The sky is darkening and I squeak a ‘good night’ to Larry and fly deep within the tree’s foliage to my favorite limb. It’s dark in there, which makes me even sleepier. I perch and look up at the stars that I can faintly see through the limbs. I see the stars; my navigational tools and think that not long from now I will be heading south, across that wide body of water called the Gulf. As I think of that time to come, I drop off to sleep and rest until the next day in the life of an American hummingbird.