Behind the Ironic Column

I like most birds – being a sometime ‘birder’ and always a ‘bird-watcher’ seems to involve some empathy if not always understanding of what they’re doing and what they’re trying to accomplish.  In this  sequence, familiarity leads to admiration and support rather than the contempt of the more familiar slogan.
 
In any event, to go back to the birds… Some of my favorites are the ones that embody some of the characteristics I find in myself – at least the ones I consider to be good characteristics.  The fact that other people may not consider them to be charming traits occurs to me but doesn’t really affect the outcome…

Hummingbirds are the smallest birds;  but quarter ounce for quarter ounce, they’re tougher than tigers.  Never stand between one and something he’s determined is his. Whether you’re another hummingbird, a huge crow, or a silly human, he doesn’t tolerate much interference.  It could be that they’re so fearless because they’re so fast.  Not much else can catch them – a mist net being their only unnatural predator.  Or maybe there’s the theory that small size makes them fierce – that doctrine of compensation where one body part or sense will take over for others that are missing. 

They won’t be frozen out either.  Here in Portland the weathers aren’t brutal – but they do have a share of cold, sometimes icy, days that can go on for a stretch.  The Anna’s hummer doesn’t let that faze him – he can reduced his body temperature to a state called torpor – where he’s in a sort of  suspended animation.  Much like those space travelers you see in the movies – resting on their couches in some trancelike state until they reach the destination.  So the hummer outwaits the dark cold nights and avoids expending his precious resources on keeping his body temperature up.  Of course he has to fly around some during the day to look for food – but the rest is just waiting for sensible temperatures to return. 

Nothing deters him from maintaining ‘his’ space.  That sense of ownership extends to the feeders people put out for him (after all humans are there for his benefit, not the other way around).  If you normally maintain a feeder and for some reason don’t fill it at the appointed times, the hummer is likely to show up and fuss.  If we could understand that language, I’m sure it would be of the same variety as the boss in “Devil Wears Prada” – get me what I want and don’t be long about it.  

Otherwise these flying jewels are utterly charming.  The Anna’s doesn’t really have anything musical enough to be called a song.  The first time I heard one I thought I was hearing some rusty garden tool being used by my neighbor.  It wasn’t until I tracked down the source of the sound that I realized it was ‘my’ Anna’s hummer, perched high in a tree and defying anyone to criticize his tunes. 

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