My hummingbirds are back. So it’s official, spring is here. Never mind that the trees have all bloomed. The pine pollen has turned every one’s car a dingy yellow. And the landscape guys have mowed the lawns three times.
It’s not spring until I see hummingbirds at the feeder.
There are just a few, I think they are the northern cousins of my residents, still making their way home. My guys haven’t gotten here yet. There is just the odd siting.
And my feeder remains fairly full. A sure sign the natives aren’t here yet.
But I’m ready. There is fresh nectar in my fridge and my feeder is out for who ever shows up. I’m happy to be a truck stop for the hummingbirds making their way northbound.
I always wonder what determines where they stop. My Person in Pennsylvania in my home town has hummingbirds, as did my mother in law. Nearly 550 miles north of here. Why do some keep going? And others stay here with me?
I love hummingbirds. The attitudes and protective natures. I have one that actually perches on the sheperd’s hook which holds my feeder. I’ve only ever seen this particular one do that. He guards the feeder best that way.
Others will lower themselves down and hide in the shrub by the feeder and pop out when competition shows up. But this guy just sits on top of the hook and waits. None of the other hummingbirds even notice him there and he is the Emperor of his domain. Easily able to chase off interlopers.
My mother in law nutured my love of birds. Every spring and summer, when I watch the birds return — I think of the hours I spent with her on the porch of her log cabin bird watching.
Spring is a dual gift. The enjoyment of watching the hummingbirds, but also the memories of time shared with such a special lady.
Even though she died years ago, every spring when the hummingbirds come back, its as though a piece of my mother in law returns to say hello to me. I am reminded that she’s not gone, she’s just not here.
Happy Spring Eleanor, welcome back.