Hummingbirds are portrayed by the media as creatures of renowned grace and beauty, fluttering innocently among the blossoms of the utopian garden environment. But after observing actual hummingbirds go about their daily lives, I have come to the conclusion that this is one of those urban myths.
Welcome to the seamy underbelly of the lives of hummingbirds.
Yesterday as I was walking through the yard, one swooped down and flew in one of my ears and out the other. True story.
They are like little warplanes—advanced hovercrafts. Let’s put it this way, I would not want to meet one of these hummingbirds in a dark alley.
We hung a feeder next to this grape arbor Popsey built, and quickly one hummingbird laid claim to the feeder and the arbor.
Here he sits on his chosen perch:
Every time another hummingbird tries to land on "his" feeder, he flies in angry circles, chirping, to ward off the unwelcome invader.
But I can't help asking...does he even bother drinking nectar out of an actual flower any more? He’s like a couch potato, with his beer stashed in a drink holder in the arm of his lazy-boy. What’s he going to want next—an IV drip of sugar water so he doesn’t have to even get up from his perch anymore?
I really hope the cat doesn't find out about this.