Red Heart

 

We hung a hummingbird feeder in the maple outside my window around Mother’s Day. It was there all summer. We never saw more than two birds visit at a time, so it was difficult to know how many we were feeding. Occasionally we’d catch sight of a male black-chinned hummingbird, but generally we’d see a less colorful female (or possibly an adolescent male – I understand they look similar). The hummingbirds were timid. They’d scout the area before darting in. Between sips, they’d constantly check for predators. Now the hummingbirds are in Guatemala, and we have a millet-filled feeder hanging in the same spot. Finches of all sorts are cleaning us out. We refilled at dusk Tuesday, and by Wednesday lunch it was half empty. Four are eating there now, with more in the maple tree and dozens in the yard, waiting their turn and chattering happily. Given the choice, I think I’d rather be a finch.