The Draught of Understanding

Hummingbird don't fly away...

One of many patient moments observing the hummer | Canon 6D, 2018

Sometimes I’m a hot mess.. and it was pretty cute to hear my littlest granddaughter say that this week. Not sure it was the best thing to repeat, but Nana had a crazy bloodshot eye and a fractured pinky toe when she showed up on Wednesday to babysit. Don’t ask. I promise, it wasn’t a bar fight. Plus, how else was I to explain why I couldn’t fly her all around the living room? I mentioned my ouchies to a sympathtic wide-eyed “awwwwe” in response. Dear God, I love children. She went on to pour about three different puzzles on the ground and at two years, five months, said she had an “idea.” “Ummm have idea” is how it went down. Her idea was basically to help me get half the puzzles done and then send puzzle pieces flying across the room.

But getting back to flying. I once flew off the top of a six foot ladder (2015), hit my head on an iron table, smashed my camera-holding right hand onto the bricks below and successfully soccer-slid my right hip into the dog water-bowl. As I came too, it was apparent I lost control of more than the ladder and couldn’t stand. As I dragged my extremely battered body, combat-style, into the house, reached my hand up to the counter, feeling blindly for my phone, it dawned on me that all of this was for my love of Hummingbirds.

But was it the Hummingbird all along that was teaching me something?

It was a long recovery giving me time to witness a hummingbird mother feed her two babies, for the last time, sending each of them off into the world.. on their own. We, in fact, had just moved our last child to college, only to become empty nesters. How incredible to be assured that almost every choice a parent makes for their child is one of great trust, a blind faith that all will turn out okay.

Goodbye… mind how you go.

Flying thousands of miles every year, with exceptional memories and a deep love of sugar, they visit 1,000 flowers each day and consume five to eight doses of nectar per hour. Hummers also eat insects and regurgitate as a way of feeding their babies. I was a close witness to this. There are over 350 species of hummers.

One of the most interesting facts of a Hummer:

“Hummingbirds have an evolutionary adaptation that benefits them during cold nights, according to LeBaron. Torpor is a deep sleep similar to hibernation in which the metabolic rate drops as much as 95%. This lowers the body temperature so much that a torpid hummingbird maintains a hypothermic threshold that nears death. It takes them 20 minutes to an hour to wake up from this state.” - 40 Fascinating Facts

This means they can survive freezing temps!

Beating their wings about 50 times per second, hummers redefine the laws of flight. A Hummer’s heart thumps up to 1,260 times per minute, with a 150 breaths per minute and their chest muscles take up to 30% of their body weight.

Resourceful and intelligent, Hummers use spiderwebs to bind their nests.

They have incredible vision and can see in ultra-violet light and much further than humans. They do not mate for life and live an average of three to five years. Fiercely dutiful and independent.

Having the beautiful nickname of “Flying Jewels,” a group of hummers are called “a Charm.” These are the words one searches for when witnessing a Hummingbird.

Observing Hummers actually helps them too. Watching what they are eating and how frequently they eat helps to document natural nectar sources, which they love best.

You have probably seen pictures of my dear feathered friends here in stories. Every time we gather in Oregon the Hummers seem to come out in full force as if to remind us of dad who also loved to wait patiently, camera in hand. Split seconds of magesty as they fly so close you can hear them drumming in your ear. We usually take this as a sign that God is watching over us and dad is whispering how much he misses the garden. Misses them. And us.

Simple, yet miracle-defining creatures, the Hummingbird reminds me of God’s mightiness in a small package.

When a hot mess, the draught of understanding is this: Sometimes we are called to our knees to stop, see, reflect, regroup and fly again.

Lend us your wings
Let us soar…