Last week I discovered a Hummingbird’s nest in our backyard. From the look of it, it had been there for a number of weeks. Well built, round, dense, sturdy and secure the tiny nest was carefully wedged in the Y shape of our small Magnolia tree branches, covered and camouflaged with a canopy of large, curved, waxy leaves. Since the discovery, I have become a woman obsessed. I can now tell you anything you might want to know about Hummingbirds. And I can give you a play by play of this mama bird’s behaviors and daily routine. But most of all, I can tell you that I have become deeply attached to this particular nest. It’s our nest now. It’s in our yard. It’s our responsibility. What else can I say but I guess it brings out the mama bird in me.
Not sure at the time what stage the nest was in, I rented a lens for the weekend anyway, just in case. Low and behold, things were further along than I realized. After careful observation through a long lens perched on a tripod I have seen two baby birds emerging, beaks to the sky and I have watched as a very fierce mama (she’s not too keen about being watched) diligently do her best job of feeding, nurturing and protecting them. And because I don’t want to disrupt her motherly rhythm, I keep my distance. I wait. I watch. I am quiet. I am still. I am patient. I am careful. I am aware. And with of all that, I’m really glad I rented that lens.
You know that feeling when you don’t want to miss a thing? I’ve got that. I’m committed to seeing this thing through and if I can, documenting it. With each day that begins and ends with safe and sound baby birds, I am reminded that life is nothing short of a miracle. You know exactly what I mean, don’t you? I thought so.