I had a powerful longing to see the hummingbird return to my feeder this year. This longing crept deep into my soul like a lifeline. Last year, during my illness, I did not keep up with preparing the nectar and thus saw no birds. I felt the loss. This year I’ve been consistent with replacing the nectar so it would be fresh when the hummers returned, but day after day, the feeder remained unattended. On occasion a dove or goldfinch would sit atop the pole that held the feeder. One young bird drank from the water I placed in the well of the red feeder. But still no hummingbirds.
My routine is the same most mornings: feed the dogs and cat; make coffee; pray the Rosary on my back porch; correct Ivy when she barks at the squirrels; and watch the birds. The more I watch, the more familiar I become with their movements, sounds, behaviors. I am so familiar that when an unusual motion is made, it catches my eye. On Saturday morning at 8:20, I finished my coffee and read while the neighborhood was still relatively quiet. I looked up as I often do to see the birds when I caught sight of it. I gasped and whispered, “The hummingbird. The hummingbird.” She hovered near my feeder, stopped to sip the nectar, and just as quickly as she came, she left. I clapped softly in appreciation of the moment.
I’ve seen her twice since then. It’s still not a regular thing, but my heart soars when I see her. I am still recovering from illness and just when the finish line of health is in sight, it seems to move, or I am blocked from seeing it. The birds give me hope. As I waited for this bird to return, I began to have doubts that I ever would see it again. But, I am reminded of all the other times it did return. It always did. Waiting can be physically painful. Loss and emptiness can hurt. But the moments far and few between bring enormous joy and hope.
Until she comes again, I will make myself ready by mixing one cup of boiling water with 1/4 cup of sugar, letting it cool, and pouring it into my freshly cleaned hummingbird feeder. As I wait, I will watch the goldfinch eat the Nyjer thistle and peck at the seeds from the dried cone flowers. I will watch the young cardinal eat from the tray feeder, allowing me close enough for a photo. I will savor the Mourning Dove as it gathers the seeds I dropped while filling the feeders, and smile at the House Finch sporting its orange head and chest. And, while I wait, I will savor the company of my ever-faithful friends: Ivy, Franklin, Stella, and Graycie.
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