The Nest

Last December, one of the female Anna's spent a lot of time in the side garden, particularly in the Dahlia Tree. Oh no! we thought. There's no way she could be interested in building a nest, because a) that plant gets cut to the ground in late January when it dies back, and b) well, it's just too close to the kitchen and all the commotion that goes on in there with the dogs and kid and me at the sink 4 hours a day.

I watched her nestle in the crook of one of those fragile leaves and thought: she's just resting. Then there was this bizarre little platform that looked to be made out of mud, but it was flat and it was almost January, cold and dark. Hummingbirds couldn't possibly start nesting that early! It's not even Spring.

Then in mid-January, 1 week before I was ready to do the deed and cut the dahlia, the platform turned into a cup and we had a problem. Frantically I looked up Anna's hummers and nesting and hatching times online. I figured we had to keep the plant up until May, somehow, fighting the darn snails and bracing it against the Spring winds.

Our Lady of the Dahlia was all alone. The males do not assist.

We hung our heads out the upstairs window whenever she was off eating, looking for eggs. But often busted by a very irritated mama bird who would buzz a foot away from our faces in the 2nd story window. Then one day, creamy yellow eggs the size of jelly beans appeared - but unlike a carton from the grocery store, these exuded life. A few weeks later, the pin-heads emerged.

The babies grew and grew, the nest flexing with as they got larger, mama building up the sides with each feeding. And they developed personalities. The one closest to the window was more aware, hungrier, adventurous. We called him Boy, and though I talked to all 3, he was the one that captured my heart.

Our sleepy little babies were more often awake than not, and spilling out of the nest. Mama had to cling to the edge of the leaf for feedings. Everyday when she went to eat, I crawled through the garden and picked snails off the bottom of the leaf and nest. Doug shamed me for interfering with nature and fretting over what was not mine, but then I'd catch him building supports and agonizing over whether mama would continue to feed the babies after his intrusion.

Their wing feathers came in, and the boy entertained us with flexing and preening. He started to exercise, beating them as fast as he could, holding on to the nest with his little feet, wanting to fly, scared to go. Then one day he let go, and it was a miracle! He hovered up, and I thought I'd lost him forever, thrilled by his independence and might.

He practiced for a week, buzzing around the dahlia, then to the fern, and over to the camellia, gone longer and longer each time. Till there was only one, the little girl.

But the boy came back, urging her on, and 2 days later she too fledged. Again I struggled with joy and loss...until I realized they just moved to the backyard! They followed their mother for over a month.

The females still spend a lot of time sucking sweet nectar from the flowers, but they are shy. It is Pinky, that hungry boy, who follows me in the garden, even perching outside the window when I sit in the turret. He is all grown up. A shocking pink cap covers his head, black stripes run the length of his wings like a hot rod.

The king of my garden.