Small But Mighty

Happy Labor Day, America. Hope you've enjoyed your bonus day. I've spent mine laboring around the house-- straightening up, organizing, vacuuming, dusting, etc. No air shows or food fesitvals for me. Just good old American hard work from someone who hasn't put in a whole lot of it in the last month, at least not in the physical sense. Being voluntarily unemployed and having the pressure of trying to come up with a career that will make me feel that I'm making our world a better place (again, totally my choice to go this route) isn't for sissies, though I know that the really hard work will come when I start working with my life/career coach again next month. Right now I'm still having fun being "a lady of leisure".

To that end, since the weather has been unseasonably cool recently I've been spending a lot of time sitting out on my patio watching life happen around me. Despite the fact that for the last year or so the house directly behind me is being rehabbed and as a former real estate agent such things used to interest me, what I find more fascinating these days is the activity around my hummingbird feeder. If you've ever seen a hummingbird they appear to be quite delicate and sweet. They are tiny little things who, I believe, are the only birds capable of "simply" hovering for any amount of time. When they do this, their wings flap so fast you can barely see them-- they appear only as a blur. It's really cool to see these beautiful creatures stop in midair, hover, and start again in the opposite direction in two quick blinks of an eye. What is equally fascinating to me is their behavior around my feeder. These dudes are warriors. If another approaches while the feeder is occupied, the occupier will fly at the invader with amazing tenacity. Most of the time the invader knows he's been beat and backs off, but upon occasion a brief ballet of aerial warfare ensues. They buzz one another, they beep, and as quickly as it starts it ends, the victor (usually the bird who was at the feeder first) returning to defend its turf against the next attack but not always to feed. I'm looking out my window right now at one just sitting on top of the feeder-- it hasn't tried to feed in more than a minute-- simply keeping an eye out for the competition. These birds appear to me to be territorial for the thrill of the fight, rather than for sake of survival. Kind of like people, don't you think? Hmmm...