I came to love birdwatching when, as a child, my mother pointed out every bird and called it by name. Wherever we were, she’d point to cardinals, chickadees, bluebirds, and tell us about them. On drives from our home to visit our grandparents, Mom spotted every hawk and announced it – Cooper’s Hawk, Red-Tailed Hawk, Red-Shouldered Hawk, and so on. She knew them all. My mom’s mother was known for her landscaped yard with flowers and shrubs of many kinds – – along with her bird feeders and bird baths. There was never any doubt that I’d take their legacy of their deep love of birds into future generations.
It’s also why I feel their presence most closely where birds are concerned. And it’s why sometimes I wonder if birds are angels, of a sort. It’s why my heart has been so heavy since they clear cut all the trees on our farm, save for a few hardwoods – after putting out specific seeds to attract specific birds over the years and then celebrating when they showed up. We will replant, but tall trees are years away.
I doubled down on my hummingbird feeders for that reason, and was delighted to see that my favorite hummingbird from last summer has returned. I cried when she left last year, lingering longer than all the rest, and I’d know her anywhere. She’s the only one who gives thanks for her food, looking me straight in the eye with sincerity. She’s back.
one little hummer
hovers close, looks me in the eye
expressing thanks for her sweet nectar
a fighter jet on gratitude pause
hovers close, looks me in the eye
just as she did last summer
a fighter jet on gratitude pause
this ruby-throated hummer
just as she did last summer
she was the last to fly south
this ruby-throated hummer
turning my tears of grief to joy
she was the last to fly south
expressing thanks for her sweet nectar
turning my tears of grief to joy
one little hummer
Common Threads 