Moms Know Best (Even About Tiny Winged Things)

A couple of weeks ago, I bought Tiffany a hummingbird feeder. Aside from our crazy people neighbors, we have a few species of bird neighbors living in the yard space we don't have access to. We like the birds better--especially the hummingbird.

As far as we can tell, he shares the redwood tree with a family of noisy crows and a pair of mourning doves. The hummingbird(s)--if there are more than one, we can't tell them apart--fascinates us. So we decided to feed him.

Hanging that feeder, though, was a pain in the butt. We took turns leaning out our third-floor window to hammer it into the wood on the outside of our building. Tiffany was very dramatic about this:

"I'm risking my life!" she cried, her little toes gripping the carpet in our living room while she engaged her core (that's trainer talk) to hammer while leaning backwards out the window. "Hold my ankles!"

I obliged, but it wasn't so much the height that bothered me. I was more concerned with the (probably lead) paint chips flaking off our building and into our eyes.

After we hung the hummingbird feeder, we waited patiently for the tiny thing to drink from it. For a week. We were hurt and a little annoyed by his disappearance. We risked our lives, for crying out loud, and he couldn't even show his long skinny beak!

Then my mom came to visit, and all of a sudden the bird was back. Maybe as a special Mother's Day gift, I don't know. When he showed up on his favorite branch of the apple tree where he takes most of his meals, Tiffany and I dropped to our hands and knees:

"Mom! Get down!" I hissed "You'll scare him!"

My mom stayed right where she was, brushing her hair in front of the window with the feeder.

"You have to let him get used to you," she said calmly.

"Sure," we answered, crawling to her side.

But, wouldn't you know, while we watched, that hummingbird zipped straight up from his branch and right over to our feeder. He took a drink from each of the fake red flower spouts and then he peered in the window at my mom, as if to say hello.