Hummertime and the livin' is easy

So I may be the last person over the age of fifty to acquire a hummingbird feeder.

I mean, doesn't ownership of such an item automatically make you a senior citizen?

Well.

TG came home from a trip to Lowe's a few weeks ago and found me in the kitchen.

I got you a hummingbird feeder baby, he said, brandishing a Perky-Pet pinch waist hummie-licious nectar-delivery system.

I squealed with delight.

Within the hour, said apparatus, loaded to the brim with the sticky sweet neon-red nectar favored by hummingbirds everywhere, was suspended from the eave at my eye-level as I stood at the sink.

Four red-plastic flowers with yellow-plastic gridlike centers above convenient red-plastic toothpick-sized perches sat invitingly, swaying a tad bit in the breeze, waiting for a hungry hummie to figure out there was a new fast-food restaurant in the 'hood.

Fly-in window always open.

Several days went by.

I should interject here that I saw a hummingbird in person for the first time only a few years ago.

I used to be able to remember where I was when I saw it, but now I can't.

See? Senior citizen.

But the last time I saw a hummer was at a park last March.

I have never seen one in my yard. That I know of.

We have lots of cardinals, though. They love our yard. We don't feed them. I don't even know what they like to eat.

At any rate, so many days went by without a hummingbird sighting -- and yet the level of red liquid in the Perky-Pet pinch waist feeder was going down practically by the minute -- that I mentioned to TG that maybe the feeder was too close to the house.

And/or that maybe the nectar was evaporating.

No sweetheart, TG said, it can't evaporate. It's in a closed container.

Oh.

Be patient, he counseled.

And the next day I saw one! A hummingbird. Through my kitchen window as I stood by the sink. He was feasting lustily from the bounty of our Perky-Pet pinch waist feeder.

I squealed with delight.

My, they are even smaller close up.

He did not hover as I understand they are wont to do but used the wee red-plastic toothpick-sized perch to rest his impossibly small self while he stuck that long thin beak repeatedly into the yellow-plastic gridlike center of one of our red-plastic flowers.

Boy are those little suckers fast. Cute too.

And apparently very hungry. Slurp slurp.

This past Wednesday I noticed that the nectar supply was nearly gone. 

I wondered if I could reach the Perky-Pet pinch waist hummingbird feeder without dragging my stepladder out onto the deck.

I could, barely. So I did.

And I found out that when you unscrew the glass pinch waist nectar reservoir from the red-plastic top (the part which features a moat that you're supposed to keep filled with water lest ants discover that they can, with impunity, access the supply of sticky sweet red nectar) that's attached to the wire that suspends the whole apparatus from the roofline, nectar sort of spills out of the red-plastic flowers with their yellow-plastic gridlike centers and red-plastic toothpick-sized perches.

So I washed my hands and arms with water from the hose.

Inside my kitchen, at the sink, I had to unscrew the part that features the red-plastic flowers with yellow-plastic gridlike centers and red-plastic toothpick-sized perches.

The hummer cafeteria, as it were.

My white porcelain sink was temporarily stained red with nectar dribbles. Requiring bleach to clean it.

Then I had to mix sixteen ounces of heavily-sugared red nectar concentrate with forty-eight ounces of clear water to make hummingbird hooch that has to be stored in the refrigerator.

The garage refrigerator. Lest somebody in the house mistake it for a refreshing fruity beverage meant to be consumed by humans.

Then I had to refill our new Perky-Pet pinch waist hummingbird feeder to the very top, re-attach the part with the red-plastic flowers and yellow-plastic gridlike centers and red toothpick-sized perches, and carry the whole thing out into the hot sun again.

And then I had to turn it upside down so as to re-unite the whole thing with the red top part that suspends the feeder from the roofline.

Some sticky sweet neon-red nectar got on me but once more I used water from the hose to wash it off.

Then I used the hose on low trickle to carefully fill the moat with water so that if ants get it in their infinitesimal noggins that it would be easy to imbibe our supply of sticky sweet red nectar meant for hummingbirds, they'll drown first.

Then I went back inside and looked out of the kitchen window and noticed that my hummer feeder was askew.

As in, the little s-shaped doohickey from which TG had originally hung it, had become dislodged slightly when I re-attached part A to part B, and now it was hanging crooked.

I can't stand that.

So I went back out and proceeded to rectify the situation, whereupon at least half of the sticky sweet red nectar spilled onto me from the red-plastic flowers with yellow-plastic gridlike centers and red-plastic toothpick-sized perches.

Requiring me to unscrew the business end of the feeder, tote it back into the house, take it apart, refill it with sticky sweet red hummie hooch to the very tippy top, re-attach the part that has the red-plastic flowers with yellow-plastic gridlike centers and red-plastic toothpick-sized perches, and carry the whole thing back outside.

But first I dragged my stepladder out onto the deck and positioned it just so. Near the hose.

Without incident I then re-installed my hummingbird feeder that, although it holds a substantial amount of nectar that had been all but drained from its pinch waist self, had so far produced for me a single solitary split-second hummingbird encounter.

Suckers are stealthy. All I'm saying.

I refilled the moat with clear water from the hose (turned to low trickle) so that local ants will be sent to Davy Jones's locker before they can get to our supply of sticky sweet neon-red nectar intended for an all-but-invisible hummingbird population.

Then I had to wash my dress, my socks, and even my gel ASICS. Complete change of clothes and shoes, y'all. Because everything wore streaks and splotches of sticky sweet neon-red nectar.

I even took a shower because, why not.

But it was all for the hummies so that's okay. I guess without me, they would starve.

In fact I am at a loss to know what the hummingbird demographic in these parts did for a decent meal -- or even a between-meal snack -- before TG suspended a nectar-laden Perky-Pet pinch waist hummingbird feeder outside my kitchen window.

Perhaps they were dining at a Perky-Pet pinch waist hummingbird feeder located outside your kitchen window.

Should you see my hummies, please tell them I said hai.

If you get a chance, mention that dinner is ready.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday

Oh. Now I see.

My son has sent us some fantastic pictures and video from his post at the rear of the KC-135 Stratotanker.

Only, I could never understand how he did that.

After all, he's lying on his stomach with his chin resting on a special padded thingy designed just for that purpose.

His hands are not within his own sight because they're below him, operating controls for the boom and for transmission of fuel to other aircraft.

So how does he take video and pictures? I asked more than once, of nobody in particular.

Then, one day: "He has a GoPro," Audrey told me.

Oh. 

I had never heard of that and although I didn't say so, I wondered what it meant. 

Then tonight, I saw this TV commercial featuring baby lions in Kenya approaching a GoPro mounted on a remote-control car.

I see. Turns out my son wears that camera. On his head.

And now, yet another urgent camera need is upon me.

I want to wear a GoPro on my head. I would never miss a shot. Also I could cuddle baby lions.

Help.

That is all for now.

p.s. The beautiful music is called Chime Travel. By Velvet Ears.

It makes me feel like taking pictures.

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Happy Wednesday