Usually, it’s around Mother’s Day each year they start to arrive. First just one or two, then more. I’m talking about hummingbirds.
I like hummingbirds. They look so small and delicate. But when you realize what they put themselves through every year, you start to think they’re tougher than you think. Then, if you spend time watching them as the zip around and smack into each other, you know they’re tough. They manage to take quite a beating.
Usually, I wait for them to arrive. They let me know. I’ll be sitting outside, enjoying a cup of coffee on a spring morning, when a brightly coloured bird with a long, sharp, stabby thing on the front of it’s face comes and hovers about a foot in front of me.
This has been happening for the past few years. I forget to pay attention, the birds remind me.
Although, it is a bit unnerving. They are pretty pointy. (And if you remember Steve Martin’s poem Pointy Birds, give yourself a pat on the back. No wait. Maybe not. If you remember that poem, you’re probably old enough to hurt yourself doing that.)
Anyway, the hummingbirds seem a bit early this year. They’re already in Maine. Since the ferry’s not running and they might get stopped at the border, that could slow them up a bit, but they’ll still be here soon.
So this year, maybe I can get the jump on them. If I can find all the bits and parts of my hummingbird feeder. I have the best of intentions every year, but somehow parts manage to become separated over the winter. So this weekend, the search begins.
And if you want to keep track of them, here’s the map.
https://www.hummingbirdcentral.com/hummingbird-migration-spring-2020-map.htm
