As my time winds down in this place I start to feel bad for the Rufous Hummingbird that has set up in the yard. Others come and go, other Rufous, and some tiny Calliopes, but this one has staked this turf, and the sugar water feeder that I have hung there. The feeder is his prize for taking the risk and heading north earlier than his peers. When it comes time to pull down the feeder so that I can put it in storage I feel a pang in my chest. Almost like heartbreak, but not quite as strong. With sadness, I pull it down, dump the last of the nectar down the sink, and wash the glass chamber with soapy water. I pack it up, and it becomes yet another item of mine perpetually in storage. Objects that make up a life, in search of a home.
The next day I return. The hummer is still protecting the yard, and it is still three days before I leave for good. I recall that the landlord has a feeder tucked in a corner of the closet just inside the door. My mandate is to return the home to them in the state that I found it, but I don’t care. I want the dull pain in my chest to go, so I make more syrup, and hang the feeder. He soon finds it, and starts to defend it from the others.
When he was new to the yard, and not so brave, he would perch in the battered ash tree, a safe distance from the ground and from me. He perched there and immediately chased away any others who might dare to steal his sugar. Over the last few days he has grown braver and he now perches on the crossbar of the swing seat on the deck. Now he’s only mere feet from the feeder. I hide behind the curtain and watch. As he scans the yard his gorget cycles from black to fiery red and back to black, as he turns his head. Eventually the sun sinks behind the mountain, and the gorget does not light up again.
I feel a fraternity with this little bird. This three and a half gram bundle of energy and tissue that winters in Mexico and spends its summer in the unlikely town of Rock Creek, British Columbia. How, after leaving Mexico, did he find his way here?
Where, after leaving here, will I find myself?
I close the curtains and wish him well.
Leave a Reply