I always thought hummingbirds hummed. At least the ones here in the East hum gently as they flit from flower to feeder.
But last month I met the Colorado variety which takes the concept of “humming bird” to a whole new level. In fact, “humming bird” is much too tame a name for these high energy, noisy creatures. Rick and I were walking a path along the Big Thompson river, heading towards a morning meadow in the mountains. The grass was in shadows waiting for the sun to lift above the sharp ridge when the sounds of tiny engines, brittle and sharp, whizzed past us. We would search for the source with our eyes in the dim light, but couldn’t see much–a blur here or there. Occasionally one little motor would pause on a branch of a ponderosa pine for a few seconds. The burring sound would help us locate it. Then it would be off again. So much energy! Scores of intense creatures darting for a few servings of wildflowered breakfast scattered here and there among the sage.
I had expected the massive snowy mountains to stand silently aloof. I had expected the rushing roar of the Big Thompson to stir a chilled air. I had seen and felt their grandeur before. But I was more startled, dazzled and, yes, undone by the unforeseen: these tiniest of birds who insisted on making their noisy, busy, unflappable presence known within this largeness of space.
Some dear people are like that too.
Joseph says
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Joseph says
I was wondering where your post was going. It can be taken on a serious note, or one which makes you laugh. The latter hit me 1st !!
Elaine Dent says
Works for me 🙂
jnkuebler says
Cheeky little beasts, aren’t they. I have been divebombed and strafed in the desert. They ARE noisy, and they have mastered the art of the parabolic curve.
Elaine Dent says
That is too funny, Jean!
Helen says
Oh beautiful bird! Show us more please! I wish we had hummingbirds here…