New Life

One of the things I so adore about living in my home is when winter starts to fade away (well, whatever little bit of winter we actually get), our trees start looking greener, and I notice tight little buds appear on some of the stalks.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, makes me happier than the hummingbirds.

Yes, we have them year-round, but from around November through February, they are few and far between.

With the number of trees on our property, our favorite activity in the spring is to search for hummingbird nests. They have often been perched precariously on palm branches (the smaller palms that sway dangerously with every puff of wind). I always wonder how those mama hummingbirds couldn't be a little more astute and pick a sturdier place to house their babies. Sadly, on more than one occasion in years past, we have found nests toppled onto the ground, teeny tiny eggs cracked beyond repair. Sob.

And then there was last year. Not a single nest could be found anywhere. I couldn't believe it. Did they suffer such irreparable harm the year before that the birds were determined to steer clear? I have no idea, other than I very much missed seeing the miracle of how a nest is built, and witnessing those protective mama birds darting around our heads every time we got a bit too close to their little darlings.

This past weekend, while walking down the driveway to get the mail, I heard the telltale chirping of a hummingbird way up high. I looked up to see one frantically flying from side to side, being as vocal as she possibly could. Instantly, I knew. The nest. It must be near.



I didn't dare get too close, for fear of scaring the mama away for good. I immediately ran toward the house, calling for Lauren like a teen in the 1970s who just caught a glimpse of Donny Osmond: "Lauren, come see the nest! Lauren, come see the nest!" Barely ten seconds later, she came bounding out the front door, auburn hair flying every which way, bare feet and all. "Where, Mama, where?!" We tiptoed back to the spot, and I carefully guided her gaze to the branch with the treasure.

Only now, the mama had come back and was perched atop what I hoped were her babies, encased in their shells, encapsulated by her warmth, and just waiting to be born.



Given the location of the nest on the branch (yet another not-too-sturdy option; come on mama bird!), there simply was no way to peer down into it to check for eggs.

Luckily, I've learned to be somewhat resourceful with my high tech camera, so was able to reach up high and angle the lens for the money shot.



Two beautiful, perfect specimens. Nature is an amazing thing, isn't it? Pure and simple. Been aching lately for the ease associated with those words. The ability to do nothing and not have a care in the world. It's been eluding me for too long now, but on a Saturday afternoon, with the sun peeking through the clouds and a little girl clutching my hand with giddy excitement as she viewed the image on my camera playback, I felt it. It was only for a moment, but I'll take it. And continue to search for it. Again. And again. Until it sticks around for more than just a fleeting minute.

I'm pulling for those baby birds. They're gonna make it this year. Oh yes. New life is just around the corner.