Last night, when the wind was howling and the snow was snowing, I went outside to bring in the hanging basket of Calibrochoa so they would not suffer a horrible freezing demise overnight. The forecast said we could get to 22 degrees. Ahh, yes, Mother Nature testing my good nature, reminding me who is really in control. Letting me know I should not get complacent because all month has been such a nice warm spring month. As I did. I covered the hydrangea, I covered the petunias I’d planted in the pot around our name and address post, I brought in the basket. When I went out to get it, what should I find but the little mystery hummer sitting at the feeder trying desperately to warm up and get enough nourishment to survive the night. Such a beautiful sight, this little hummer, with it’s throat glistening red in the evening light. Oh, did I have my camera you want to know? Of course not. And of course the hummer flew away before I could go back in to get it. You have to move quickly when the door of opportunity is knocked upon – it does not stay open long.
This morning – this gray, dismal morning when I awoke to a dusting of snow on the ground and droopy plants all around with the temperature below freezing but not as low as 22 (thank goodness!) – as I sat in my chair looking out my window, what should arrive to sit in the tree just outside my window?
The mystery hummer, fluffing feathers, warming body. The light was not bright enough to show it’s beautiful colors, but there it was, confirming my identification made last night with the help of iBird.
In this photo, a hint of the brilliant sparkling red. A teaser. I am hoping he will stay with us for the summer, bringing his mate and fledging a family. I am hoping he will give me more opportunities to get his picture in all of his glory. If he does, I shall share with you. You know I wouldn’t miss that opportunity!
I see out my window now that Squi has reappeared,looking for seed in the feeder. Alas, the yellow-headed blackbirds have been coming in droves and have stripped the feeder of all the sunflower seeds Squi would like to devour. Perhaps I shall go replenish – and hope the blackbirds stay away for awhile. One can hope.