Playing with the hummies

I keep thinking I'm going to begin writing about things more profound and earth-shattering, but then I get on deck and something fascinates me about my friends in nature. It's been ghastly hot for over a week (as anyone in the eastern three-quarters of the United States would surely know!) and bird activity has been minimal. The hummies have been feeding but it seems that they feed and quickly retreat to the shade of the century old lilac alongside my secret garden deck. They live there, you see. So no matter how large and out-of-c0ntrol the lilac becomes, it will always stay as is, where is. It finally (!!!!!) rained last night and the bird activity overall has increased exponentially - robins are gleaning in the grass - birds of every size, shape, and color are zipping through what I call the fly-way, landing under the feeders and on them to get their fill while it's reasonably comfortable outdoors. The humidity and temperature are rising, so this may be short-lived.

I noticed about six hummies challenging one another for the three active portals of their feeder. Obviously my pairs have had offspring! Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I ambled over to within three feet of the feeder and just stood, wondering if they would approach with me so near. They whizzed by, they dive-bombed, they squawked and twittered into my face but I held my ground. One even settled in front of my nose, wings furiously flapping, no more than 8 inches away, studying me as I studied him. I thought I'd go cross-eyed if he didn't move on soon! Finally a young male landed on a port nearest to me, and a mature male did likewise. Before I knew it, they were all taking turns, flying over my head and shoulder, and fanning my cheek to get to the feeder. When it was vacant, I moved closer and continued to do so until I was within an open-hand's width away from the closest port. And they still kept coming, regarding me as another garden fixture or maybe knowing I am their benefactor?