Bye, Bye, Birdies?

Hummingbird, don’t fly away, fly away!

(“Hummingbird” Seals & Crofts song)

I’m going to be late!

        Six a.m. comes way too early—and nothing to look forward to except a long ten-hour day doing monkey work at a local side gig.

        Nonetheless, as I begin to fill the bird feeders before I leave home before sunrise, I notice the hummingbird feeder in the dwarf apple tree across the driveway is empty.

        @#$#%^& !

        Now I’m really going to be late!  Since I know I’ll hate myself if I don’t fill it.

        I finish filling the bird feeders, purposefully spilling bird seed on the ground for those flying friends who can’t mount feeders and eat their breakfast from the ground.

        Now to grab the hummingbird feeder, run inside, rinse it out, make the four parts water one part granulated sugar concoction, try and hold the bowl of liquid food, the funnel, and the upside hummingbird feeder upside down and not spill too much of it down the sink, as per the norm.

        I curse myself for not checking the feeder when I got home from my part-time night job, but exhaustion and the thought of the flurry of ants that would be in my kitchen had I stored it there overnight, overruled that action. I could’ve put it in the mud room, but I’ve had some issues with an invasive raccoon, so that option was definitely out.

        For a split second, The Dark Side intervenes: I curse the hummingbirds themselves.  After all, how dare they drink all the nectar from the feeder I put out for them and make me even more tardy for my job?

        Then sense and sensibility returns.  I love hummingbirds. I love watching them bob and weave and perform a pas de deux (or even a pas de trois) as they dip their beaks into the small holes in the plastic feeder, then “hum” away temporarily sated—either by themselves or with another of these tiny, finger-size wonders.

        In summers hence, when my father was alive, we’d sit on the porch of my Amish-built cabin and watch them, trying to count them as they flitter around before they departed.  It’s a fond memory I’ll always treasure.

        Then sadness arrives.

        I read online that with global warming hummingbirds could be extinct by 2080.

        Which reminded of more bad summer news: Due to global warming (You know: The meteorological “fallacy” that some deniers still don’t blame for the scorching temperatures around this summer?), fireflies (or “lightning bugs,” as we call them) may be heading toward extinction, too.

        What heart-wrenching thoughts!

        What would summer be like without these two heart-lifting critters to herald in the season; one giving nature lovers a smile during daytime and the other, a nocturnal boost?

        I’m unaware of any psychological studies involving watching nature putting people in a better mood by observing backyard wildlife, but it’s got to be true. I swear my heart “leaps” with joy when I see hummingbirds, blue jays, woodpeckers, even the tiny sparrows, bobbing for bird seed in my driveway.

        But at the present time with two jobs, I don’t get a lot of time to sit and bird watch.  Or “lightning bug watch,” either.

        I wish I did.

        Maybe in a few years, if I’m able to retire.  Or just work less.  If I can afford it.

        Hopefully, things will change for the better and hummingbirds and lightning bugs will be around for many, many generations to enjoy.

        But by 2080, I’ll be gone.

        So will you.

        But will the hummingbirds?

        And lightning bugs?

        What else?

        God, I hope not…

***Gregory Greenleaf