I’ve become a stalker
And I mean that in the most civilized way.
I’ve been stalking a hummingbird.
She comes around daily, sometimes more than once. Her mercurial movements make her a difficult subject. But she loves my Rose of Sharon, and these other little purple annuals I potted up this past spring. I don’t even know what they’re called, but she likes their sweet nectar. And she goes for the verbena too. I have spent many mornings sitting on the patio. I bask in the early sunlight. I sip my tea. I read my book. See, all civilized. I try to appear nonchalant, like I’m not looking for her. I just wait.
Sometimes, engrossed in my book, I’ll hear the low buzz of her busyness as she hovers beside a chosen blossom. I love watching her dart in and out between the blooms, her needle nose pointedly purposeful. I don’t know how she decides which flower she wants, but she is clearing making a choice. Maybe it’s like when I choose tomatoes or peaches at the grocery store. Some just look juicier and sweeter than others.
I find myself wondering who she goes home to. Or even where her home is.
She is usually in a hurry, all flighty and business-like. But recently, she’s begun to take a rest on a branch. Always the same branch. A creature of habit? Maybe she’s growing comfortable in my backyard. I hope it’s because she feels safe.
Today it rained intermittently and I was preoccupied with some chores, so I wasn’t really paying attention. But when I glanced outside to see if the rain had stopped, there she was on her branch. She cocked her head a little to one side.
So tiny, so dainty. So busy. So strong. So unassuming. So beautiful amid the pink and purple petals, bigger than she.
I stood and watched her. Marveled really.
I’ve definitely become a stalker.
But I’d like to think a civilized one.
