Hovering

Last weekend, while looping their bikes around in the parking lot of my Dad's office, Meg exclaimed that she saw a hummingbird's nest in the tree. What? She is moving faster than us. Her perspective is lower than ours. It is probably just an old normal-sized nest from years ago.

Looking closer in the direction she pointed, sure enough a nest sat among the branches. More accurately an itty-bity nest sat on a single branch. Both the petite size and the momma bird that darted past confirmed that it indeed belonged to a hummingbird!

What an amazing thing to see! Carefully constructed. Just big enough for the body of a hummingbird to fit snugly within. Without a human hand in the pictures to measure against, I guess you could compare it to the small leaves that overshadow it. It is no bigger than a golf-ball! A humbling piece of nature.

So, when my parents headed out of town for this entire week, and the responsibility to water and collect mail at both the house and office fell on our shoulders, I used it as an excuse to frequently check on this new-found nest. Hover, if you will.

I would pull into the parking lot with eyes focused on the area of the nest. Immediately the momma would dart out of the branches, flying away at full speed. If you hadn't been watching, you would have missed her entirely. If focus had been elsewhere, you would have remained oblivious of the hidden nest.

Within moments she'd be back. First day of watching, we noticed the nest looked a bit different. Overnight, white specks had been added to the outerwalls. Almost looked like coconut shavings. With momma nowhere in sight, I stepped out the car and attempted to catch a picture with the camera. Stepping closer, a fast flutter of wings came at me. No kidding. This momma and her large beak (at least as big as fisherman describe their catches) came at me. Shrinking back, I watched as a pointy beak flew by...with a wad of soft white stuff in her mouth. She was still in the building process. Still making the nest comfortable. And, obviously, I was in the way.

I reverted back into the driver's seat. Window open would still provide a view of the nest. I sat and waited. A bit flustered from the first fly-by. Moments passed. I was ready to call it a night, when within inches of the open window came the momma again! Staring me straight on. Hovering at my eye-level. I shrieked, aloud! What else was I to do when this live thing with a sharp weapon came aiming at me. Haha. No kiddin'. Yes, I realize it is a pint-size nothing, but its feistiness could rival any brown bear with a cub. Yes, I felt ridiculous. Especially when I looked up and saw a neighbor positioned at his fence watching me. He likely had no idea who or why I was there, and was standing on watch. With a character-matching hat on and everything, now I had a "Wilson" from Home Improvement hovering on the property line. Watching my moves. I'd have to be less alarmed/alarming.

So, up rolled my window. Just three inches remained open. Enough to aim the camera lens through. Pathetic (my sister laughed when she could easily visualize me doing this!). At this point I realized I could never cut it as a Nature cameraman. Holding still when a tiger approached? No way!

I began to back out and call it a night. I glanced up one more time, and say the momma perched in the top branches. Eyeing me still. Likely laughing and irritated that I wouldn't go away. All right, I'll call it a night. But, we'll be back tomorrow. The "mail must be checked."

Next day, all three kids were the back seat. Hopes of sitting quietly enough that the momma would return to her nest were slim. Ah, but I've got suckers from the bank (Bless that bank lady). Three suckers muting the backseat, we were able to settle in and watch.

Wasn't long until momma returned. Thankfully, not so close to the window. This time she went pretty directly to the nest. Camera up. Noise from the back ("More. More." from Tyler who chomped his sucker too quickly). Momma flew away. Moment missed. Meg gave up the remains of her sucker to quiet down brother. She was completely interested in seeing the bird return. Sugar could be sacrificed...

Momma returned. Darted up the nest. Settled in and stayed! Camera up! I was able to snap several. A few turned out in focus! Again, an amazing thing to see!


Next day, we returned in Matt's truck. Now that a picture of momma and nest was had, I wanted to see in the nest. I know I'm on the verge of driving the momma crazy with my daily five-minutes of staring, but if I can just learn what is inside, I'll be content to leave her alone until things change.

Matt obliged my request for help in getting a good vantage point. He backed the truck bed under the tree. I found myself perching - precariously on the side of the truck bed. Hold on to me! Camera up!

Evidence caught of two eggs inside! Now the nest is deemed small by any naked eye. But the eggs - no bigger than the tip of my pinkie! Priceless.

Yes, momma hummingbird, I can understand why you're standing guard. I'll leave your ground and let you finish out the remaining days on the nest in peace.

It's now been a bit since the stalking. I find myself back at home among my kids on a Sunday night. I find myself comparing myself to that of the hovering hummingbird.

There are so many points in my day when I feel like I've got the role of a full-speed bird. Darting in every direction. Trying to take care of everything that needs to be done. Picking up something at point A to take to point B, but pit-stopping at C, D, and E along the way. I can be quick. I can be efficient. I know what needs to be done. But, man, flapping my wings continuously at such a rapid speed is exhausting.

There are also moments in my day when I feel like a sharp, mean, harmful beak could easily be seen poking out of me. Sure, my momma make-up is a way to defend against outside influences that try and intrude on my home and influence my children. There is purpose in my make-up and instincts. But, I fear that too often I direct the sharpness at my children, rather than using it as a tool to gather "soft" things that bring comfort. Too many moments I lose my cool. How I hope they never fear me and my spastic ways as I feared the hummingbird. Certainly I had a size advantage as I did stood near the hummingbird...my innocent children are at a disadvantage.

There are also moments I find myself perched for a break. Perhaps I've stopped because I'm overwhelmed. Perhaps something has gotten in the way of "my plans" and made me consider a way around my trial. At these paused moments, I recognize how very small I really am. I feel very overwhelmed by what surrounds me.

I have to remind myself that my itty-bitty corner that is tucked away is not forgotten. It is still amazing. The work inside of it is important. Others might peek in and view clips of what I'm staying busy with, but they don't know the whole picture. An on-looker might recognize the miracles within my nest as amazing, but then they'll move on and return to their own corner. I will remain. Hovering. Hovering over my Little Ones, knowing that my constant watch over them is what I am to be doing.

Yep, in my own little sphere, I am a bit like a feisty, fast-moving, overwhelmed hummingbird. May I keep up with the role, I pray.

(Don't just glance quickly over this last shot...see the Momma heading up into her nest?!?)