Our hummingbird hatchlings are two weeks old today. Still looking kind of scruffy, aren’t they?
I come from a long line of bird watchers – most notably, my Nana. While washing the dishes, she’d stare out the kitchen window, warbling “His Eye is on the Sparrow” to her canaries. She’d flap her arms excitedly when she heard a cooing dove or saw a red-breasted robin hopping across the grass. She was a wee little thing, with bird legs and a beakish nose. She watched my father like a hawk.
When I described my
obsession with attentiveness to these hummingbirds, a close friend suggested I might be getting old. “Ornithology’s for senior citizens,” she said. “Next I know, you’ll be stalking birds in a netted vest and cargo shorts, huge binoculars slung around your neck, and sticks and feathers poking out from your floppy-brimmed hat.” Yeah, um, right. Wondering…Can you traipse through bird sanctuaries in Valentino sunglasses and flip-flops?