When Michelle stopped by her office in town before catching the ferry south, she got buzzed by a humingbird.
We’d been expecting their imminent return. I had seen a few shadows over the weekend that might have been hummingbirds. After getting buzzed, Michelle asked me to fill and hang the feeder when I got home.
No problem. We’d been moving the feeder out of the way all winter, hadn’t we?
Apparently not. I searched all over for the thing, but couldn’t find it. I even found its base, but not the glass bottle that held the homemade nectar. I called Michelle and asked where I should look, but I’d already checked the places she suggested—many of them more than once.
I tried not to worry about it. But, I wouldn’t be allowed off the hook.
That evening, as I sat at the dinner table, a hummingbird appeared right outside the window at my shoulder. It appeared to peer in at me through the window.
“Please, Sir,” it seemed to beg, “may I have some nectar?” I know they don’t need the hummingbird feeders people put out for them, but the poor things have recently traveled thousands of miles to get here. A snack seems like a neighborly thing to offer.
The next day, I went to town. I had other errands, but I made sure I took the time to purchase a new feeder.
Our main feeder is old and decrepit. We’ll get several more years out of it once we find it again, but so many hummingbirds spend their summers on our property, a second one will not go amiss. After all, the voracious little hunters spend much of their stay eating the mosquitoes that swarm around us. Now is not the time to get stingy with the nectar!