Scribblings in Maine: The War Zone

I wrote a lot of posts while we were in Maine this summer, but I couldn't publish them to my blog due to sketchy internet availability. I thought I'd publish them as a series (which seems a bit presumptuous; a "series," indeed) so you can read about what I was thinking and doing during that time. I'm much more thoughtful when my life is not crazed and chaotic.

Here's the first:

I'm living in the middle of a war zone, and this time my daughters are not the combatants. As I write this, I'm sitting on the deck of our cabin with a lovely view of the lake where the girls are swimming. I am filled with a quiet joy.

Out of nowhere, a thrumming buzz behind me interrupts my peace. A few mouse-like squeaks and then something swoops perilously close to the top of my head with another something hot on its tail. "Tail" is an appropriate word choice.

Ruby-throated hummingbirds on the warpath.

Small in size but huge in spirit, ruby-throated hummers are aggressive, fiercely guarding "their" territory and feeders, of which I have two. I have seen a hummer take a few sips and then dart up into a nearby tree to watch the feeder. Should an unwary interloper arrive -- and they always do -- the first hummer zips down commando-style to chase away the enemy.

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

I attributed this feeder-aggression to a need for constant nourishment to fuel their extremely high activity level. While this is important, I recently learned that aggression levels tend to peak in late summer and early fall, when ruby-throats are gearing up for migration, which includes a 500-mile trip across the Gulf of Mexico. Makes perfect sense.