Hummingbirds and Moms (and Dads)

As I was looking for a document the other day, I found a story I had written about our summer of the hummingbird (the year Teresa left for college). It goes like this:

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One summer day, without announcement or invitation, our temporary guest moved in. Well, not in just a day, more like a few weeks. The porch light seemed like a good choice for a home. With its plastic panes long since gone, victims of time and use, the frame hung there gathering cobwebs and dirt. It seemed apparent that she would not be disturbed here. Only one light bulb worked now, and oddly enough, she chose the corner farthest away from the working light bulb. At first it just looked like bits of leaves caught in another cobweb, but after a few days, I could tell these fragments were carefully and intentionally placed. It seemed to take forever, but soon the nest resembled half a walnut shell, just the right size to hold a hummingbird, and she moved in.


She was very cautious at first, sitting tentatively in her nest ready to take flight whenever we walked in and out through the front door. It became a habit to look up at the nest whenever I went in or out to see if I could get a glimpse of her before the hum of wings and flash of color announced her retreat.
It wasn't long before she seemed accustomed to the clamor in our yard and remained in the nest in spite of the traffic and noise. I had only seen a few hummingbirds in my life, and never so close up, but I realized that since it is not common to be able to get such a close-up view of a hummingbird, her strong resolve to remain in the nest must have grown from the fact that there were eggs in the nest. I decided that the next time she took flight, I would look in the nest and see for myself. I got a mirror ready and when the opportunity presented itself, I chanced to peek. Sure enough, the mirror revealed two little pea-sized white eggs.


I went to the Internet and looked up information about the hummingbird to see what the incubation time would be. I wasn't sure exactly when the eggs were laid, but the incubation time is usually between 14-21 days, depending on the temperature. I calculated that by the time we returned from a weekend trip for a family reunion, the hatching should be complete. Upon arriving home, I took the first opportunity I could to check the nest. The mother was gone so I grabbed my mirror and looked in. At first all I could see was the broken egg shells, and I was saddened that they did not make it, but in an instant I could detect two little open mouths in the grayness of the nest. The hatchlings had both survived.


Now the mother hummingbird's courage was tenfold as she remained on the nest to keep her babies warm until their feathers grew sufficiently and yet taking frequent flights to forage for food for them. I watched her whenever I passed by the window and occasionally saw her feeding her young. It was a daunting task to think about, because hummingbirds use so much energy just in ordinary flight, that they require great amounts of food to maintain their own energy, let alone feeding two growing babies.


Over the next few weeks we watched as the baby hummingbirds grew larger. First we could see the tips of their beaks, then more and more until we could see their heads. It didn't take long for their bodies to completely fill the nest and it seemed that the nest would soon break apart with the load placed on it by two nearly full grown chicks.


During all this time, at intervals the mother would appear, perch on the edge of the nest and feed her babies, and then take off again. Finally the day came when the baby birds left the nest.



They did not immediately fly away, rather landed on the porch below, flitted from one spot to the next as they tried their wings, and after a period of "practice" they gained the strength to fly away.



As I watched this mother hummingbird caring for her babies and then stepping back and letting them try their wings, I thought of our own years of caring for our children that seems to be drawing to a close as our youngest child has recently gone away to college. Does that mother hummingbird feel the same emptiness inside that I feel when she looks at her empty nest? I hope she finds comfort in knowing that her children have learned how to fly. Hopefully they will know she misses them and come back to visit…

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Now I can stand back and watch all of you and cheer you on. I think your Dad is cheering too. You are who you are in large part because of his influence. Way to "fly"!!