Our hot, humid summer is turning brittle around the edges
It’s reassuring, really, how fall arrives
Even after the hottest of summers
I will miss the months of extravagance
But not for long
Because spring is assured, even after the coldest of winters
Today was a fretful day for the hummingbirds. At least three were trying to stay close to the honeysuckle and the feeders, vying for a favored pair of branches in the pear tree. They chirped testily, launching attacks from far less desirable perches in the wax myrtles, occasionally looping the house in frustration.
They didn’t seem to mind my noisy camera, even when I moved to a chair beneath the tree. They were too busy guarding their airspace.
It seemed to me that every calorie they gleaned from the honeysuckle and the feeders, they quickly spent on aggression.
Watching them, I realized that I have often lived in similar fashion. Wasting my energy on ambition and envy, when it would have been wiser to sit still and enjoy the sunshine.
The honeysuckle has been in full bloom much of the summer, but hummingbirds are rare so far. I’ve only seen one a handful of times, and each of those visits has been brief.
Last summer was our first hummingbird summer, so I don’t have a feel for “normal” hummingbird activity. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens as the summer wears on.
Publication Note: My poem “Doppler Effect” posted at vox poetica on June 19. Many thanks to editor Annmarie Lockhart!
I recently registered for the 2015 Hampton Roads Writers’ Conference. (September 17-19 in Virginia Beach) This conference is one of my favorite events each year, and I’m already counting the days.
In other writing news, my poem “The Tracking” was published on May 12 at vox poetica. A version of this poem won first place in the Barbara Dunn Hartin Memorial Poetry Prize contest at the 2014 Hampton Roads Writers Conference, and I’m delighted that editor Annmarie Lockhart accepted it for publication.
And in news only vaguely related to writing, I’ve been spending a lot of time with my camera. Despite summer’s growing heat and humidity, the yard is hard to resist this time of year. Everything is blooming, the baby rabbits are thriving, and birds are everywhere.
In mid-May a dove decided to nest in the front petunia basket. Now her two nestlings are ready to fledge.
May 18
June 11
The yard’s most curious visitor, lately, is a very bold squirrel that follows me around as I take photos. If I sit still for a while, he sidles closer and closer until he is within a few feet, pretending he is burying something nearby. His jaw quivers nervously as he mumbles and grinds his teeth, but he comes back time and time again. It makes me wonder if he was raised by a rehabilitator, if he somehow equates humans with food and safety, yet also with peril.
I’m trying not to encourage the squirrel’s behavior, but I can’t resist photographing him. He’s very handsome.
If he hangs around much longer, I might write him into a poem.
A house wren began claiming the yard’s nest boxes in late April. He spent days on end carrying twigs, working on nests in each of the boxes.
He clearly preferred one of the smaller boxes, and built his most elaborate nest in it. When females showed up to inspect the nests, he led them over and over again to his favorite, as if arguing its attributes.
The activity around the wren boxes was so entertaining that I almost missed a developing cardinal nest in the overhanging honeysuckle.
The wren watched the cardinals’ progress with obvious interest, but didn’t seem to object.
The cardinals quickly completed their nest, and soon there were eggs.
May 19
May 25
And then…
June 1
When the eggs hatched, the house wren’s interest in the honeysuckle nest increased alarmingly. (More than one source reports that house wrens sometimes destroy nearby nests, pecking holes in eggs and even killing nestlings.)
But a closer look revealed that the wren wasn’t planning to harm the nest.
He was feeding the brood.
And so were the cardinals.
I’m confused, but the cardinals, the wren, and the nestlings seem content.
The cardinals bring seeds, while the wren scours the yard for insects.
And the nestlings greet either meal with enthusiasm.
I wonder if this kind of behavior is common. Have the yard’s birds been feeding each other all along?
I suppose “wonder” is the key word here, as it usually is in the yard.
Rae Spencer 