A Farewell to Wings

As the colors of the seasons change so do the colors of the birds in the garden. When the blooming flowers are bold, the presence of hummingbirds is a welcome and enjoyable part of gardening. As the flowers fade and trees become muted, the small palettes of airborne paint fade too. The iridescent flitting of blurred wings has been absent from my garden for many days.

Hummingbirds are a wonderful summer participant in flowering gardens. There are over 300 species of these small, manic birds. Migratory by nature, at least four different species arrive in our area between April and July. The broad-tailed hummingbird is the one that made our gardens home this year. The males have a brilliant, metallic green on their back and head, white on their breast, and red on the throat; the female is also green but not so metallic and shiny. Most noticeably, the males make a distinctive sound with their wings as they fly, a trilling that can be heard throughout the yard.

Very territorial, the first males to arrive stake out their neighborhoods and defend them when interlopers venture too close. My wife and I enjoyed many battles in the skies. One bird would soar vertically out of sight with only the trilling to disclose its location. It would suddenly reappear in a dive toward another bird feeding on a flower or casually hovering near a fence. After running off the offenders, he would fly back to a high perch on the power line, surveying his domain until another dive attack was necessary.

The territory is not precisely measured, but tends to be about a quarter acre. What is more important than size is the content that the region holds. He wants a land awash in color. A male will even drive away females until one perseveres enough to secure her mate. She's seeking a bird who rules over a domain with many flowers and sources of food and potential nesting sites. Together they'll defend their kingdom.

With the presence of penstemon and salvia to my garden, the hummingbirds have reason to want the territory. Add in the naturally occurring Indian paintbrush, and they have prime real estate. A few strategically placed sugar-water feeders are icing on the cake. It's no wonder so many of these amazing animals battle for the privilege to enjoy my gardens.


But it's a temporary enjoyment. By September, the birds are ready to continue their migration back to Mexico or Central America and our Colorado skies are quiet again. The males head out ahead of the females to find warmer conditions for winter.

It's recommended you leave hummingbird feeders out for a few weeks past their departure. In case a straggler wasn't paying attention to the calendar, you want her to have nutrition for the flight south. With a hard freeze forecast for this evening, it's time to bring in my feeders. Actually, it was time to bring them in weeks ago, but I wanted to be sure the last bird could feed.

More likely, I wanted to retain a last vestige of summer. When the hummingbirds are gone, summer is defiantly over. The colors of the world fade as blackbirds ravage the sunflowers, jays raid the seed feeders, and sparrows peck the socks where the colorful finches once fed.

I enjoy all of the birds that occupy the gardens through the year and do my best to encourage the presence of them all. But the hummingbirds are special. Like the first robin in spring, the first hummingbird in summer is a messenger of changing seasons and more enjoyable garden activities. I'll put their feeders back some time in April, early enough to entice the first male to stake a claim. Until then they are another pleasant garden memory that will add color to my thoughts when the beds are blanketed in white.

As the colors of the seasons change so do the colors of the birds in the garden. When the blooming flowers are bold, the presence of hummingbirds is a welcome and enjoyable part of gardening. As the flowers fade and trees become muted, the small palettes of airborne paint fade too. The iridescent flitting of blurred wings has been absent from my garden for many days.

Hummingbirds are a wonderful summer participant in flowering gardens. There are over 300 species of these small, manic birds. Migratory by nature, at least four different species arrive in our area between April and July. The broad-tailed hummingbird is the one that made our gardens home this year. The males have a brilliant, metallic green on their back and head, white on their breast, and red on the throat; the female is also green but not so metallic and shiny. Most noticeably, the males make a distinctive sound with their wings as they fly, a trilling that can be heard throughout the yard.

Very territorial, the first males to arrive stake out their neighborhoods and defend them when interlopers venture too close. My wife and I enjoyed many battles in the skies. One bird would soar vertically out of sight with only the trilling to disclose its location. It would suddenly reappear in a dive toward another bird feeding on a flower or casually hovering near a fence. After running off the offenders, he would fly back to a high perch on the power line, surveying his domain until another dive attack was necessary.

The territory is not precisely measured, but tends to be about a quarter acre. What is more important than size is the content that the region holds. He wants a land awash in color. A male will even drive away females until one perseveres enough to secure her mate. She's seeking a bird who rules over a domain with many flowers and sources of food and potential nesting sites. Together they'll defend their kingdom.

With the presence of penstemon and salvia to my garden, the hummingbirds have reason to want the territory. Add in the naturally occurring Indian paintbrush, and they have prime real estate. A few strategically placed sugar-water feeders are icing on the cake. It's no wonder so many of these amazing animals battle for the privilege to enjoy my gardens.


But it's a temporary enjoyment. By September, the birds are ready to continue their migration back to Mexico or Central America and our Colorado skies are quiet again. The males head out ahead of the females to find warmer conditions for winter.

It's recommended you leave hummingbird feeders out for a few weeks past their departure. In case a straggler wasn't paying attention to the calendar, you want her to have nutrition for the flight south. With a hard freeze forecast for this evening, it's time to bring in my feeders. Actually, it was time to bring them in weeks ago, but I wanted to be sure the last bird could feed.

More likely, I wanted to retain a last vestige of summer. When the hummingbirds are gone, summer is defiantly over. The colors of the world fade as blackbirds ravage the sunflowers, jays raid the seed feeders, and sparrows peck the socks where the colorful finches once fed.

I enjoy all of the birds that occupy the gardens through the year and do my best to encourage the presence of them all. But the hummingbirds are special. Like the first robin in spring, the first hummingbird in summer is a messenger of changing seasons and more enjoyable garden activities. I'll put their feeders back some time in April, early enough to entice the first male to stake a claim. Until then they are another pleasant garden memory that will add color to my thoughts when the beds are blanketed in white.