By Bob Gaydos
It seems you can teach an old dog new tricks. I am now a certified hummingbird feeder filler. Well, apprentice.
More importantly, in the spirit of responsibility that comes with the new title and duties, I feel obliged to give you advance warning to feed and enjoy your hummingbirds now while you may because cooler weather is on the horizon.
If you live anywhere on the East Coast in the umbrella of the annual hummingbird invasion and occupation, you know that feeding hummingbirds is a pretty big deal. In fact, in the mid-Hudson/Catskills region where I live it's often the topic of daily conversation.
So I'm kind of proud of my new designation. And I don't take it lightly, not with all the whizzing, hovering and humming going on outside our back door.
The annual visitors and their fledglings have given new dimension to the term feeding frenzy. Now I know why nectar enjoys such an exalted reputation.
As with many things in my life, I have come to an awareness and appreciation of the hummingbird phenomenon somewhat belatedly. Living in cities for much of that time worked against running into hummingbirds. So did a lack of attention to nature in general.
But better belatedly than never " except when you're feeding.
There's nothing like sitting quietly and watching the feeding of half a dozen or so hummingbirds, darting and hovering in, sucking the nectar out of four feeders. Being a novice feeder filler, I actually sat and waited recently to see if my recipe would meet with the birds' approval, even though I was following a recipe given to me. Basically, sugar and water in the right ratio.
As I sat watching the hummers jockeying for access to the feeders, one of them flew within about 6 feet of me, stopped, stared me straight in the face and hovered frenetically for about 30 seconds. I was a new feeder and I was getting the once over.
Judging by the return visits, I think I passed.
Watching the feeding is only half the fascination. What hummingbirds go through every year just to get to our backyard and all the other welcoming feeding places in the Eastern U.S. is an epic tale.
Regular hummingbird watchers are pretty much aware of it, but I'll fill in the rest of you cityfolk briefly.
Ruby-throats, which are the common variety in our area, nest throughout summer and early fall in the eastern United States and southern Canada. They stock up constantly on nectar and bugs to build up the strength for the annual winter migration whence they came from across the Gulf of Mexico to Mexico and Central America. Some winter in Florida. Go figure.
They make this round trip every year, flying up to 20 miles a day during daylight hours, when food sources are visible, and an amazing 500 miles at a shot when crossing the Gulf of Mexico. Their average flying speed is between 20 and 30 miles an hour.
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