The Parable Outside My Window

on humans and hummingbirds

I wrote at the end of August about the wonder of the hummingbirds at our feeder:

At the height of summer, the nectar grows moldy in the warm sun before they can drink it all. Now it’s cool enough, and the birds hungry enough as migration season approaches, that they’ve almost sucked the feeder dry. It’s never before occurred to me to use a hummingbird feeder as a calendar, but paying careful attention makes it possible. 

A month later, that feeder is busier than ever. From our perch at the kitchen sink, we see a constant stream of birds, fueling themselves with quick sips of sugar water for their miraculous trip to Mexico or Central America.

It’s quite the dogfight though. These birds are furiously territorial. One will land on the feeder, only to be buzzed away by another. Most hummingbird feeders have multiple holes, but I can’t imagine why. These little doofuses couldn’t possibly share the feeder with another bird at the same time. 

I can’t tell them apart enough to know whether there’s one bully or several. Either way, I’m relieved to report that despite the onslaught multiple birds are using the feeder, based on the variety in appearance and especially in behavior. Some like to keep their wings beating, hovering while they drink; others alight on the thin plastic rim of the feeder. Most drink in short bursts, looking around after each swallow in case they get divebombed. Others risk it all, gulping down the nectar as if they’ll never eat again. 

They go about their lives in different ways, but they all want and need the same thing.

 A hummingbird feeder is a fun diversion during the warm months in North America, but this time of year it also saddens me, this desperate competition for resources. I guess I could understand it if the nectar were scarce, but it’s not; we refill the feeder promptly, even devotionally. I watch them, rooting for the vulnerable ones, wanting to tell them all not to be so reactive and desperate. The other morning while my tea brewed, I watched yet another petty tyrant, convinced of scarcity without any evidence, drive away one of its unassuming brethren whose only offense was wanting to survive. I found myself saying out loud in spite of myself, You don’t need to do this. There is enough. There will always be enough. What you need is right here, and the source will never run dry; I won’t let it. 

Of course they don’t understand. They don’t even hear me. 

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What I’m Up To

• West Coast clergy types, there’s still time to register for next month’s Pastor’s Renewal Retreat at Zephyr Point on Lake Tahoe.

• Big Ideas for Parenting Youth is an online event taking place October 25, sponsored by Myers Park Presbyterian Church in Charlotte. Full schedule and descriptions coming soon, but I’ll be talking about mental health and youth.

• Relatedly, this week’s post for supporting subscribers is about trauma-informed communities—what it means, how to start creating them. I’ve loved hearing the responses from readers, especially in email. Learn more about subscription levels here—annual subscriptions are 20% off for a few more weeks. Members and friends of Trinity Presbyterian Church in Herndon are eligible for complimentary gift subscriptions; just ask. 

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Link Love

Have I shared this yet? This story about a woman who raises hermit crabs had me in tears.

Steady on.