(at the Ocotillo Lodge, Palm Springs, California)
Here, they negotiate the wicked thorns
to perch in earth-toned camouflage
on the spears arrowing out of the ground
at the corner of our building.
One moment I catch the zip of a tiny
winged being, and my slow eyes
try to follow it to its landing place.
It takes a bit, but there it is in profile,
the hummer’s long beak coming
to a perfect point, its eye spying
mine through the protection of
wicked thorns. I can’t help myself:
I talk to it softly, as I do around wild
things, trying to reassure them that
I’m only looking, that I mean no harm.
And this little bird sits, seemingly
calm, though I’ve read that its resting
heart beats 250 times a minute.
So, I figure, its little engine runs
about four times faster than mine
in the 60ish seconds we study
each other, creature to creature,
we marvels of engineering, before
each of us wings off to wherever
our adventurous hearts take us.
Güd wrtr 
We have both Anna’s and calliope hummingbirds that nest in the dense old-growth Ponderosa pine and Douglas fir forests on our property in Washington state. Ruby-throated hummingbirds live in the hardwood forest canopy that covers our land in Alabama. They have all provided us no end of amusement.
Anna’s are pugnacious and will attempt to drive one another away when they find my grandmother’s perennial tiger lilies in summer and quince apple blooms in the fall. They also are curious and will hang, hovering in the air in one spot for minutes at a time, out in the open, often 30 feet above the ground to get a look inside our living room through our enormous picture windows. They seem unafraid of raptors or owls, which are plentiful here.
And they are smart. When winter temperatures bring the thermometer briefly down into the teens, it will freeze any apples remaining unpicked in our orchard. Once temperatures rise back above 32 and everything unthaws, the insides of the apples are turned to a liquidy mush. Anna’s hummingbirds know this, and will find these apples, pierce them with their long, sharp bills, and drink the slushy insides of the fruit. I was gobsmacked the first time I saw this behavior. Would this qualify as them using tools?
Hummingbirds make tiny nests that consist mostly of spiderwebs and fluff. I’ve watched by the hour as they come to my Alabama windows, which fill with spider webs at their outside corners every spring and summer. The ruby-throaters hover and twirl diaphanous strands down the length of their beaks and then zoom off to their nests. They make this rapid little periodic warble as they work, especially if the spider silk falls off, almost like they are swearing. It has often made me laugh out loud. And I tell neighbors who tut-tut at me for not cleaning my windows that I’m leaving the webs for my little denizens–my excuse for not doing windows.
But my favorite among them are the calliope hummingbirds, which are no larger than a bumblebee. My first encounter with one was eleven years ago when I was pulling weeds in my garden, where lots of actual bumblebees with some wicked stingers loved to visit and buzz around my head. Thinking one was getting close to my ear, I swatted at it, and made contact with something warm, soft, and fuzzy. A hapless little calliope landed on the ground next to me, a victim of my careless hand. However, the bird quickly rallied and fearlessly came at me again. I suddenly realized this beautiful creature thought my ten-gallon beige cowboy hat was a flower! I have thus been visited many times while working around my place.
Thank you for reminding me of such delightful creatures!