Gone Huntin'...

For the last two summers I have had the opportunity to see a passing hummingbird or two zoom through my yard.

I kept telling myself that I would get a feeder so that I could attract the little speedsters to my back yard.

Well, I finally broke down and picked up a hummingbird feeder at the Dollar General Store over the week-end. It was $2.50 and hopefully it will last the entire summer season.

It's been out now for almost a week. And I keep waiting and watching for a hummingbird.

But I haven't seen one yet.


It's getting a little frustrating.


Maybe I am expecting to have the following of hummers that my Mom has. She has so many hummingbirds in her yard that they consume almost 1/2 gallon of sugar water every two or three days.

Can you believe that?


Mom must have hundreds of hummingbirds come to her yard.


Or maybe I'm remembering the days when I was a kid and used to play in the water. I remember my clothes being wet and the colors turning real dark from the water. Hummingbirds would "buzz" me thinking that I was a flower or something. I remember one day when I was wearing red shorts. A hummingbird came up to me and I sat really still. He actually stuck his tongue on my water soaked shorts and then...

I "nabbed" him.

Yes. I have captured a hummingbird with my bare hands before.

The little birds are aggressive too and have turf wars over the feeders.

They fight and dive bomb each other all the time. Sometimes one of the birds will get knocked out of the air from the force of the attack. If a little hummingbird falls to the ground and lands in the grass they'll die. Because their legs are short and they can't get enough lift to take off from the ground.


I remember my grandmother, Mamma, having a hummingbird feeder on her front porch. It was great to be so close to the action.

One summer there was a hummingbird that was very aggressive. He would sit in the vine on the side of the porch and guard the feeder. He wouldn't let any other hummingbirds drink any of the sugar water.

I can't remember how long this went on for, but one day my grandfather, Pappa, had had enough of it. He had swung his hat at that bird, yelled at it, and who knows what else. But nothing he did had any effect on it. That bird was not giving up his territory. Pappa had labeled it "mean".

Then one day we heard this huge "BOOM". I thought...

"That sounds like a shotgun."


We all ran to the front porch and there was Pappa with the shotgun.

Lord, what dangerous creature had come so close to the house?


Not being able to immediately visualize a ~carcass~...

We asked Pappa what it was that he had shot. He said that he had shot "That Mean Hummingbird".


Us kids looked for the remains of the hummingbird, but there wasn't much left to be found.


We learned that day what was meant by the saying...

"Blown to Smithereens".


later...