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Stories for The Ultimate Bird Lover
Hummingbird story--first draft...
what to do today?
Date: 5/12/2009 11:16:13 AM ( 15 y ) ... viewed 1584 times
That's Mother Hummingbird fluttering.
She is checking on her baby that just flew the nest.
February 2008, ENCHANTED GARDEN INTENTIONAL COMMUNITY,
San Diego, Calif.
Uploaded:
9:48 AM
8:29 AM
May 12, 09
O.K., what am I up to today.
Just did a resend of two photo galleries
to TERI at HCI.
These are of the Hummingbirds
that nested in our orange tree the last two years.
I spent the entire day yesterday
going through Iphoto Libraries.
One main one had more than 27,000 photos.
That Iphoto Library has been running as slow
as Molasses. It has been exasperating.
Even with more ram, this file was still slow.
I finally learned that around 5,000 is works best
for each Iphoto Library.
I am starting to make other Libraries,
but have not yet perfected a system for knowing
what is in each of the new libraries.
I spend much of the day--extreme labor
intensive work--dragging various Event Files
showing in the Photo Window to my harddrive.
Then I would erase the file from the Library
to create more room.
I did a lot of processing as I went through
some of these files.
I want to value my time more.
I also do not ever want to make this kind of
error again.
This after the fact moving of files from one
Library to another can take tons and tons of hours.
There are lessons in this. I am still working them
through.
I am going to let that go today.
I have to.
I just redid and got one complete on
the galleries to Teri. Good.
I found some more Hummingbird photos
that I would not have found if I had not done this.
HCI is paying $200.00 a photo, so I likely
made some money doing all this work.
I found the photos that are crucial for reminding
me of the story I want to write.
O.K., O.K. Don't wait!!!
Write the story and get it in!
Get Published, Goldman!!!
Here is the First Draft
of the story I will write
for THE ULTIMATE BIRD LOVER
BOOK. The deadline, if you
want to submit a bird story,
or your own photos,
is June 15, so get busy!
Here is the URL for HCI,
The ULTIMATE SERIES.
http://www.ultimatehcibooks.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=section&id=...
Michelle, always says hello.
She is the little girl next door.
Some days, when my spirit is low,
I hear her calling out my name from a distance.
This is so very sweet, to mean something
to a little girl, who naturally acknowledges me.
Every so often,
there is a miracle here in our garden
that I want to show the kids next door.
I tell Nuni, the mom, and she brings
Michelle and her little brother Daniel
over.
Last year, Nuni gave me a real gift.
She was the first to see the Hummingbird nest
on her side of the driveway.
The nest was in the orange tree, the tree
that consistently gives us the sweetest of fruit
every Christmas time, but this gift, the
sight of a mother hummingbird nesting,
was an even more special and rare joy.
The Mother Hummingbird was extremely
trusting. We have a number of cats, and they
could have easily have jumped or climbed up
the tree and disturbed the nest. Mother
Hummingbird build the nest right at eye level.
Each day, or every couple of
days, I was able to go out with my camera
and record the growth of baby hummingbirds.
Our climate here in San Diego is pretty dry and yet we had some very wet days. The winter I befriended the nest, one wet winter day, mother hummingbird sat with droplets of water over her head and soaking feathers. She was sopping wet. She did not move. She wanted to protect her two little eggs. I was wearing layers and had my umbrella. I watched closely. I hardly saw her blink. I was within a foot or less. I took photos. I went into the house and created art that I called Mother Love.
Other days, I would approach the nest
and momma was gone. I would just see the two
little eggs. Suddenly, I would hear the flapping
of wings overhead. She might be off hundreds of feet,
but when I approached and she was not there,
I would hear these flapping protective wings above me.
As winter turned to early spring our garden
fills with color and sweet nectar. I became acutely
aware of the delicate chirping of the happy mother
overhead visiting various flowers. She could soar
fifty feet in an instant it seemed.
I learned to identify the humingbird sound.
We have many birds here on our 1/3 acre
within walking distance of a 35,000 student University.
The land here feels like a real Enchanted Garden, a nature preserve at times,
but I can hardly say I spend enough time
in the garden.
I have never been sensitive to birding
or being able to identify the various kinds
of bird sounds, but now I was an expert
one the Hummingbird sounds. This filled
me with joy.
One day, two little bald heads appeared in
the nest, and then day after day, the babies
grew. Sometimes, both babies would be looking
right at me, two twins. Not only did the
furry feathered little creatures bond with each
other, but they seemed to bond with me.
In the early days, before their eyes opened,
they sometimes were confused if it were
I, or mom. They would feel my approach.
They would open their mouths, and hope
that Mom would drop in some morsel of food.
Weeks passed. They were both big now.
It was amazing how both could still fit in
that tiny nest.
It was now close to Spring. Our garden
was full of more and more color.
How long does it take for a hummingbird
to leave the nest? I had no idea.
It seemed like they were awfully big.
What gives a little bird the final push?
How do they know when they can fly?
One day, I was watching closely. I was
very close with my camera lens.
One bird took flight! Oh my God,
what did I do? Did I scare the little
bird?
She flew about twenty feet to the Camillia
bush and landed bewildered on a leaf.
She may have shocked herself, and now
she just stood there as if paralyzed.
Instantly, Mother Hummingbird came
to the rescue. She went to check on her
offspring. I was able to get a photo of mother bird in
flight and baby perching on the leaf.
Baby sat there for hours. She did not
move. Had I caused a premature leaving
of the nest? Had she gone out in fear
for her little life?
Had I broken trust and destroyed forever
the bond of Hummingbird-Man relations?
I felt mortified. For hours I came out
and checked on little baby bird. She just
sat there, staring at the Camilias. Maybe she was stunned to
have a different point of view, and feel the sunshine.
Was she old enough to forage for herself? Was she hungry?
Would mother continue to feed her? Was she old enough to take care of herself?
From that day on, I kept my distance. I did not want to cause
the other bird to leave prematurely.
The other bird stayed in the nest at
least five or six days. Each day,
I wondered when she would be leaving
the nest. Did she too need a kick in the
butt to leave the safe haven?
One day she too was gone, and the nest
was empty. It was I who had empty nest
syndrome. I was able to get close to the
nest at this point. It was an amazing artwork
of tiny pieces of this and that, and very cozy.
Do hummingbirds ever return to an old nest
I wondered? It wasn't long after it began
to disintegrate.
It was about that time, that I too was
ready to travel. As I prepared to leave home, I would hear the chirping,
and then the fluttering overhead.
Some times, in the months that followed, a hummingbird would just
seem to come close and make eye contact.
if I were in the garden watering, often a hummingbird would come close and
take a little bird shower if I just held
the hose steady. Trust had not been
broken, but as the flowers left, I would see
less and less of these joyfilled creatures.
Seasons passed. Now it was winter again.
Amazingly, it was nesting time again.
Wouldn't you know it, Mother Hummingbird,
now maybe one of the babies grown, came
back to our orange tree! What joy,
what a sense of homecoming I felt!
Oh my gosh, the Hummingbirds came back!
The second year, the nest was on our side
facing the driveway. The nest, the second
year, was a bit higher, well out of range
of my inquisitive camera lens.
Mother Hummingbird decided to take a
little more space from this Voyeur
Enchanted Gardener, but still
there was her nest, right over my head.
© 2009, Leslie Goldman, Your Enchanted Gardener
##
9:34 AM
first edit
ANOTHER STORY
i wrote years ago
that KEEP The BEET
is asking I submit for
THE ULTIMATE BIRD LOVER:
There was once a bird on a sunny spring morning, warm enough
after the dew long dried, who came uponn a cement puddle two
inches deep just outside my screen door. There before my eyes's,
mother nature invited me to witness a most sacred ritual. The bird
was delirious with a deep-seated sensual joy, as if something
was being fulfilled, something so instinctual, so essential.
The bird stood to the right of its makeshift pond and there
proceeded to take a bath, first stepping into the water leg length,
testing the temperature. Liking it, the bird underwent the most
exuberant frenzied immersion, first splashing, circling round
and round. She dipped one side, wet it good, shook it, stretched.
Then she continued her ceremoy on the other wing, dipping,
wetting, stretching, shaking. So touched with this entire experience,
the bird could not contain herself, and continued her little water
water bathing dance with variations on the theme, wetting its little
tail feathers, rolling around on its undebelly, doing little hops, skips
and jumps.
I was so delighted by this unabashed explosion of life that the artist
in me began spinning a detailed account of what I say; yet the affairs
of the day consumed me. When I returned to the word canvas of my mind,
colors were muddied and i had nothing to say. A moment to be seized
was lost, a gift given, unshared. I mourned for weeks, somewhere
in the back of my being. Oh for the integrity when we take time
in the midst of being too busy to create, to create wholly.
On this day years later, when the richness of possibility again threatens
to be lost to the tasks at hand, to the chores that must be done,
to the churning wheels of commerce in my head, to the misspent
energies of cares and worries that weeks from now will count for
nothing, I'm remembering a bird and a bird bath, that chirps
into eternity.
[ This was originally written
October 12, 1983...
© 2009, Leslie Goldman, Your Enchanted Gardener ]
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