A Fond Farewell

I spend a good amount of time in my backyard watching the dance of hummingbirds from April to September, and I mark the day they arrive and depart on a calendar. When autumn arrives, something inside tells them it is time to go. Their feeders now stand empty in my yard with the last bit of nectar remaining, just in case one has lost her way. It’s always a sad goodbye- a marking of time passing- a realization that winter lies ahead and that years slip by too quickly.

We have come to know that these tiny little miracles, these invited and prepared for summer guests, become part of our family. They seem to realize when we’re in the yard and often hover close by as if to say, “I’m here. I’m back. We’re family”

Hummingbirds do sing their own song, a series of chirps and ticks and whistles- but most often you know that they are nearby when you hear the hum of the rapid beating of their wings-and hence the name hummingbird. I have come to realize that hummingbirds do recognize human faces and get to know their summer hosts. Each momentary visit seems to fill me with such joy. Old friends- fellow travelers- soul mates.

When I walk about the yard each new morning, I greet them with a “good morning hummingbirds, I’m glad you’re here.” And they’ll often dart in from the evergreens, making their presence known. It’s not that I don’t love all of the birds that visit my yard – the chick-a-dees, the tufted titmouse, the nuthatch, and sparrow, the wren and the cardinal and blue jay -I don’t like to play favorites – but the antics and agilities and short-lived presence of these miniature acrobats seem to take center stage each summer.

I have read that hummingbirds can remember their migration routes and every flower they've ever visited. It is said that they can figure out how long to wait between visits so the flowers have time to produce more nectar. There is much symbolism throughout time and folklore about the significance and the meaning of their visits. To some, a hummingbird sighting may signal that challenging times are over and healing can begin. To others, these avian miracles are a sign of hope and good luck or perhaps even a sign that the spirit of a loved one is near. For me, they remind me of my connection to every living thing and how very grateful I am that they visit.

How lucky are we that we share this planet with so many wonderful creatures- each so amazing and unique. It is a knowing that we’re not the ringmasters in this circus of life but instead we are living, growing, breathing in tandem, right beside, along with - each. So, I’ve taken to saving the moth that just flew into my ginger tea – and I’ll make a special trip downstairs to release a disoriented June bug, I know many of us do- as we recognize we are all just fragments of the whole of creation.

I will always have something to look forward to when spring arrives and our avian visitors return. The circle of the seasons, the beating of the heart, the passing of time.