Thursday, July 21, 2016

Ballet Of The Little Ones...

I got their pics, but no autographs
Nearly every morning--after I have a cup of coffee and the rising sun begins turning the blackness of night into the soft grey of dawn--I step onto the front porch to begin my walk. Ruby throated hummingbirds swirling around the feeder we keep filled for our tiny visitors scatter.

"Hummies" are mesmerizing. Delicate and beautiful; swift and acrobatic; territorial and feisty, they provide cheerful entertainment.

Airborne, yet stationary, they sometimes hover and stare into our front window; always the same one. I'm told the reason they do so is somewhat narcissistic--their reflection is a selfie of sorts. This may be true, but it is uncanny how they only do this at The Shire when their feeder is empty. I know I've probably mentioned this before, but I prefer to believe they are letting us know we need to get with it!

As I write, thunder rumbles and cracks in the distance, but undaunted, the ballet of the little ones goes on. Dancing upon a stage of humid, stormy air they flit back and forth, stopping only long enough to take a graceful bow and plunge their needle-like beaks into the rose colored wells of sugary water.



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