July 10, 2008
I watched a hummingbird today – I am quite fascinated with them. They have wings that beat up to 4,000 times per minute and yet they do not always move quickly through the air. They pause. They wait. They hover, move backwards and even stop and stare. They are such amazing birds.
Two caught my eye as they flew together, playfully crashing into each other – Twitterpated. As high as they flew, and as far away as they could get, they were always drawn back to each other and to the flowers below.
The one I watched was green, with droplets of blue that looked like he’d flown through a paint-ball fight. He was moving from flower to flower, pausing at each to drink the nectar from within. As I watched him, I listened to the gentle hum of his rapidly flapping wings and wondered what it would be like. What would it be like to soar away from all of this and just escape?
Then something happened. As the hummingbird drank from a tall purple flower, a honey bee flew by. The bee flew right up to that same cluster of flowers and went about its work. The hummingbird stopped drinking from the flower, hovered in mid-air…and watched.
For a moment I thought the hummingbird was upset – that at any second the bird was going to chase the bee away. Yet, how could I be so ridiculous? How human of me to think that such a beautiful creature would have those thoughts. The hummingbird simply went back to drinking the nectar from the flower beside the bee. Perhaps he knew that without the bee pollinating the flowers, there would not be any nectar to drink.
And so I watched. I watched as a hummingbird and a bee spent time on the same flower. I wish my world could be like that.