Oh, Hummingbird!

I have never been a bird person. They freak me out with their ability for flight and those sharp beaks that could easily steal my sight. I am not a bird person, but I find myself fascinated with the number of different birds I have seen since moving. With my desk facing a window, I often catch myself watching one sort of bird or another. At least once a day, I look up to find myself eye to eye with a hummingbird as it hovers directly in front of me. Again, I am not a fan of birds by any means but these little ones, these small wonders simply amaze me. Each encounter, whether through a window pane or up close tickles me, leaves me giddy and wanting more. I have been outside on the patio and heard the whirring of one’s wings and turned my head to see one within inches of my nose. It was exciting and the slightest bit scary all at once. I have heard their “click-chirps” as they flit about the yard. I have witnessed them pause for rest on a tree branch or telephone wire. I been close enough to see the rapid breathing that leaves me almost breathless.

Three days ago I saw the most amazing thing. I saw a baby hummingbird. At first, I thought it was a female, resting, but it stayed longer than a minute, sitting on the top of the fence. It sat there, outside the window of my office, probably six feet away. I could tell it wasn’t full grown; it’s feathers were fuzzy. I watched it sit and look around. Its body appeared fat and round and from the back, it could’ve been any other small bird. When it turned its head, the beak gave it away. As I watched, I noticed a green blur approach and hover near the baby. One of the parents, the male, judging by the bright green color, was feeding the baby. How lucky was I to be seeing this right in front of me? I watched and snapped several pictures. It was the sweetest sight, the parent sitting on the fence, next the the baby, beak to beak.

Oh, Hummingbird!

I marvel at your smallness, your swiftness,

your delicate existence.

I catch glimpses, you appear and select

orange blossom nectar, outside my window

and disappear in an instant.

A gift to me, I think, to see.

A sunny summer eve, a cooling breeze

you appear, again within my view

I watch you sip sweet nectar from a feeder

wings beating, heart beating, you still.

For a moment you could perch, I think

at impressive speed wings beat

and I stare and I stare

at such tiny feet.