Zaffy and the Hummingbirds (May 28, 2020)

In our pandemic isolation of more than two months we’re seeing more birds in our garden. In the morning, as the sun gains force, little birds chatter and swoop. The Saíra is the prettiest with several brilliant hues on its body. Many years ago, we found a baby Saíra in the garden, which must have fallen from the nest. It couldn’t yet fly and wouldn’t eat anything from us. Someone told us to leave it in a closed cage on the house wall and let the bird’s family take care of him. We put him in the quiet front garden across from a Yuca tree and soon his weak peeps made a noisy group of Saíra caregivers gather on the branches, taking turns to dart over to push food down his beak. I don’t remember how long this went on – we loved seeing the colorful birds and felt thrilled to be able to help – but one day we had to admit our baby bird had grown strong enough to fly. We turned the cage around and left the door open and in a day or two the little bird was gone along with his resourceful family.

 

Now, since we’re seeing a lot of hummingbirds, and hoping for another bird experience, we decided to order two feeders. They came in blue and pink, with colorful hibiscus “mouths” at the base of an inverted plastic bottle. We filled them with a prepared sugar solution, hung them well off the ground, and waited. It didn’t take long for the hummers to discover the feeders. They whipped across the width of our garden and landed lightly on orchids and stiff leaves while plotting their next moves, for there was danger beneath. Zaffy, our German Shepherd girl, does not tolerate birds in her garden. She is an energetic if not downright hyper dog that needs to exercise constantly, and she runs around all day long with a worn tennis ball in her mouth looking for the next person to play with her. The birds, however, disrupt her concentration. Unwilling to get go of the ball - after all she intends to deal swiftly with the tiny intruders - she dashes from side to side with her tail aggressively lifted and making hoarse inward barks. The birds scatter and lift into the air and wait a bit before returning. I am reminded of a similar scene from the original “Lady and the Tramp.”

What Zaffy really can’t stand at all are the noisy toucans who settle high in our jack-fruit trees to screech and hop from branch to branch. Agitated, Zaffy runs around in circles to discover where they are, and then leaps into the air when they silence to fly tauntingly on top of her. We, on the other hand, love to see them in the wild. Many years ago, we adopted a baby toucan who had been poached so young he didn’t know how to feed himself. At the time we had a puppy and a kitten of the same age, so we treated them all the same, waking up early in the morning to warm milk and dissolve bread in it. Sam, the toucan baby, would start screaming as soon as we uncovered his cage, and then make little satisfied noises when he was fed. Since they were all small, we let him walk around on the ground and even rigged up a shower for him. 

But later, as they all grew in size, he became too vulnerable. Also, his wings grew, and no-one had the heart to clip one, as the vet suggested, so we built a big fancy cage for him where he spent the next 10 years. We weren’t happy with keeping him caged, he was such a beautiful wild thing. He trusted me, and when he escaped, which he did sometimes, I would be the one who had to entice him back in. He didn’t fly away, but would sit in the sun on a railing, calmly looking at the view, and my heart would race with contrition as I maneuvered him back into his prison. He didn’t hate his cage, though. I realized this once when I decided to line a little box house he had hanging under the roof with freshly mown grass. I trusted him too and wearing cutoff shorts I got into his cage and stretched up high to fix his house. Sam was sitting in a corner observing my work, when he suddenly dove in fury and seized one of my butt cheeks with the point of his beak and twisted it violently from side to side. His message was clear, and I removed the grass immediately. It was a difficult bruise to explain away in a country where you often wear bathing suits. There were people who gave my mild philosopher husband a second, thoughtful look.

I feel a bit like Sam these days, when I sit in my garden and observe the view. Although not in a cage, I have been inside our walls for a long time and there’s really nothing to indicate that it will be possible to go outside anytime soon. Also my joy in seeing the hummingbirds feed on their sugar solution has been ruined by an invasion of small black bees, which like a virus growing, has covered the bright flowers of the feeders in a teeming mass and scared the humming birds away.