March 02, 2009
Hummingbird tales: What's for brunch?
With only about a week left until the hummingbird chicks leave the nest, they've gotten so big that their mother doesn't (can't?) sit on the nest anymore. Instead, she forages for food and returns throughout the day to feed her young brood.
I positioned myself farther away Sunday morning, with a longer zoom lens (55-200mm) on the Nikon D40; the mother is less tolerant of me being near the nest than the chicks. Using a monopod, I hid beneath the trumpet vines, my elbow braced against the fence.
After about ten minutes trying to remain motionless, I heard the distinctive clicking chirps of the mother bird behind me. Her thrumming wing beats grew louder as she approached, and I saw her reflection in my glasses as she drew near, darting from side to side. I stayed completely still as she inspected me, conducting a threat assessment on the fly, as the breeze from her wings cooled my now sweat-covered brow.
She zoomed away, unsure if it was safe, taking up a position in the Ginko Biloba behind me in the backyard.
A few minutes later she was back, and we went through the same drill again, as she hovered next to me, waiting for me to make some sort of threatening move. I wondered if anyone had ever been attacked by an enraged hummingbird as I did my best to blend in to the scenery.
Finally satisfied that I wasn't much of a predator, she flew over to the nest, hovered for a moment to assess the situation, and landed next to two open-mouthed youngsters.
She paused, peering suspiciously at me with beady, black eyes, then moved with surprising speed and began to feed the chicks.
With near-surgical precision, the mother slid her long beak all the way down into the first chick's gullet, arching her neck as she began regurgitating her meal for the youngster.
It looked like nothing so much as a carnival sideshow sword-swallower's act -- with a meal thrown in for good measure.
Having delivered a steaming hot meal to one chick, it was time to move on and make sure the other bird got a fair share of the pre-digested insects, pollen and nectar, with a repeat of the sword-swallowing act.
With a lightning-fast urp-urp-urp, meal service was concluded, and mom was off again to refill her stew pot.
Posted by Mike Lief at March 2, 2009 12:09 AM
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