Hummingbird Photos

Hummingbirds are familiar visitors to my gardens. I've written about them before and will again because I, like most gardeners, find them fascinating. And like so many, I've wanted to photograph the tiny creatures in flight to preserve the image that we find so appealing. That desire is a daunting task because of their fast profile and hesitancy to sit still for a portrait.

The key, not surprisingly, is patience. Often when I saw the birds cavorting near the feeder, I would run inside for the camera and return expecting a quick photograph. It isn't surprising that the hummingbirds were off patrolling another part of their realm by that time. With no photo opportunity I would turn my attention to another section of my garden.

This past weekend I finally achieved my goal. I spotted a small female perched in the branches of the Ponderosa pine tree that holds our primary feeder. This time I quietly backpedaled to the house and softly approached after quickly retrieving the camera.

A hummingbird watching me warily

She was still in the tree, though staying on the opposite side from my position. I resolved to stay put, as frozen as possible, straining to blend in to the the landscape as though I was a permanent fixture. Tentatively, after a lengthy wait, she flew to closer branches, still wary of the new garden statue. It was about 15 minutes before she hovered in front of the feeder.

I snapped a picture. Then another and another. The statue was slowly moving its arms but she didn't seem to mind as she slurped her tongue into the nectar. I lowered the camera to adjust the shutter speed hoping to freeze the wings in mid-flap when her more colorful mate appeared. His arrival sent her away and the flash of unexpected iridescence caused me to raise the camera a little too quickly. He was gone. I froze and waited another 10 minutes or so, but neither returned.

The crowning achievement

Anxious to see the results, I loaded the photos on my computer and was thrilled and amazed to find a few spectacular images. No longer reliant on National Geographic or Audubon magazines, there were hummingbirds from my garden now in my photo library.

Over the course of two days I was able to take a number of pictures of hummingbirds in the trees, at the feeder, and resting on the wire fence. I used a standard Canon digital camera with a zoom feature, nothing fancy. Any birds beyond about six or eight feet away tended to be out of focus or too fuzzy once I enlarged the image. And the images need to be enlarged to see the birds; they are pretty tiny after all.

A different bird on day two

The excitement of catching such a thrilling sight on film (or pixels as it is) is invigorating. With a telephoto lens, tripod, and lots of patience I could achieve magazine quality images, but for me, for now, these simple photos are a great achievement. By being a little patient I captured a unique moment in my garden. A moment that symbolizes much of how and why I garden.

Patience in gardening is something I've written about before. I plant grapes and asparagus knowing it will be three years before I can harvest anything. I plant bareroot fruit trees knowing that many more years will pass before they fill with fruit. I have plans for what I expect my garden to be in five years, and beyond. To me gardening is about the process and the journey.

Planting bird-friendly flowers and hanging seed and liquid feeders offer birds food opportunities, but it doesn't guarantee their imminent arrival. With time they will come. We sit near the garden and enjoy their aerial dances and plumage displays. Each year we see one or two new species that we hadn't seen before.

Now I'm ready to record their populations for posterity. If a hummingbird can be captured in a photo, so too can the finches, doves, jays, and the many others that give us enjoyment. I've snapped a few bird photos before but with little purpose. The possibility of success gives the effort new life. It's not always easy, but great rewards seldom are.

Hummingbirds are a favorite part of my garden, now more so. We wake with their trilling and always look when we see the flash of their flight. The simple notion of them staying still long enough to catch with a camera has awakened other gardening and photographic desires. It's amazing what a great feeling such a small creature can instill.

Hummingbirds are familiar visitors to my gardens. I've written about them before and will again because I, like most gardeners, find them fascinating. And like so many, I've wanted to photograph the tiny creatures in flight to preserve the image that we find so appealing. That desire is a daunting task because of their fast profile and hesitancy to sit still for a portrait.

The key, not surprisingly, is patience. Often when I saw the birds cavorting near the feeder, I would run inside for the camera and return expecting a quick photograph. It isn't surprising that the hummingbirds were off patrolling another part of their realm by that time. With no photo opportunity I would turn my attention to another section of my garden.

This past weekend I finally achieved my goal. I spotted a small female perched in the branches of the Ponderosa pine tree that holds our primary feeder. This time I quietly backpedaled to the house and softly approached after quickly retrieving the camera.

A hummingbird watching me warily

She was still in the tree, though staying on the opposite side from my position. I resolved to stay put, as frozen as possible, straining to blend in to the the landscape as though I was a permanent fixture. Tentatively, after a lengthy wait, she flew to closer branches, still wary of the new garden statue. It was about 15 minutes before she hovered in front of the feeder.

I snapped a picture. Then another and another. The statue was slowly moving its arms but she didn't seem to mind as she slurped her tongue into the nectar. I lowered the camera to adjust the shutter speed hoping to freeze the wings in mid-flap when her more colorful mate appeared. His arrival sent her away and the flash of unexpected iridescence caused me to raise the camera a little too quickly. He was gone. I froze and waited another 10 minutes or so, but neither returned.

The crowning achievement

Anxious to see the results, I loaded the photos on my computer and was thrilled and amazed to find a few spectacular images. No longer reliant on National Geographic or Audubon magazines, there were hummingbirds from my garden now in my photo library.

Over the course of two days I was able to take a number of pictures of hummingbirds in the trees, at the feeder, and resting on the wire fence. I used a standard Canon digital camera with a zoom feature, nothing fancy. Any birds beyond about six or eight feet away tended to be out of focus or too fuzzy once I enlarged the image. And the images need to be enlarged to see the birds; they are pretty tiny after all.

A different bird on day two

The excitement of catching such a thrilling sight on film (or pixels as it is) is invigorating. With a telephoto lens, tripod, and lots of patience I could achieve magazine quality images, but for me, for now, these simple photos are a great achievement. By being a little patient I captured a unique moment in my garden. A moment that symbolizes much of how and why I garden.

Patience in gardening is something I've written about before. I plant grapes and asparagus knowing it will be three years before I can harvest anything. I plant bareroot fruit trees knowing that many more years will pass before they fill with fruit. I have plans for what I expect my garden to be in five years, and beyond. To me gardening is about the process and the journey.

Planting bird-friendly flowers and hanging seed and liquid feeders offer birds food opportunities, but it doesn't guarantee their imminent arrival. With time they will come. We sit near the garden and enjoy their aerial dances and plumage displays. Each year we see one or two new species that we hadn't seen before.

Now I'm ready to record their populations for posterity. If a hummingbird can be captured in a photo, so too can the finches, doves, jays, and the many others that give us enjoyment. I've snapped a few bird photos before but with little purpose. The possibility of success gives the effort new life. It's not always easy, but great rewards seldom are.

Hummingbirds are a favorite part of my garden, now more so. We wake with their trilling and always look when we see the flash of their flight. The simple notion of them staying still long enough to catch with a camera has awakened other gardening and photographic desires. It's amazing what a great feeling such a small creature can instill.

Hummingbirds in the Garden

Gardeners around the world grow colorful flowers and plants to attract birds to their landscapes. But it is only in the Americas where hummingbirds grace gardens with their graceful flitting and flying. Smaller than a ping pong ball and scarcely heavier, hummingbirds enthrall lucky observers with their hovering and sideways and backward flight as they gambol among the nectar-filled flowers.

Our hummingbirds have been back for a few weeks. They're migratory and spend their winters in the warm regions of Mexico and Central America. Increasingly, some species have taken to the U.S. Southwest and are choosing to vacation there while cold and snow pummel the rest of the continent. With the arrival of warm weather, they again venture north to breed in more temperate regions. Colorado is one of the many places where hummingbirds frolic in the summer.

Not all hummingbirds migrate, but the ones that do are welcome in my garden. This year my wife was more enthusiastic than I about preparing the feeders. While I was focused on getting the new garden beds ready for planting, she was looking forward to being entertained by the tiny birds.

We removed the feeders from storage, cleaned them up, and hung them near the garden, filled with sugar water. One part sugar to four parts water is the simple formula. They don't need fancy red food coloring, and that is actually discouraged. A splash of red or yellow on the feeder helps attract them, but once they realize there is a free, nutritious meal, they'll be back regardless of the color.

Our hummingbird feeders

Hummingbirds are very smart and are supposed to have amazing memories. They have an average lifespan of five years but can live to about ten. We have no doubt that the birds in the garden now are the same ones from last year. They know a good thing.

Last year I identified the birds we see most often as Rufous hummingbirds. That may be an easy guess because Rufous hummingbirds are the most widely distributed of the hummingbirds in North America. A primary reason I decided on that identification was because of the unique sound our birds make as they patrol the garden and attack interlopers. There is a beautiful trilling sound generated by their feathers as they fly through the air. I've seen it described as a "metallic whining" and that is mostly accurate, but it doesn't adequately describe the vibrant, quavering pitch.

Hummingbirds are extremely difficult to see in flight, but with the distinctive melody of their wings betraying their position, we're able to watch as they climb and dive and quickly stop on a branch or line.

The aerial dogfights as a male protects his territory are fascinating. Last summer I was captivated by three males as they soared through simultaneous combat, with high-speed dives and precision mid-air passes. I didn't see any collisions and couldn't tell if there was contact, but after about 15 minutes one bird sat victorious on the power line above the fence. The other two were banished. Whether he was the proud defender or a cocky invader, it was his earned privilege to oversee the land.

The feeders are hanging from a pine tree to reward such bravado and to encourage the birds to stay while we wait for the flowers to bloom. I have honeysuckle and penstemon planted nearby so they can slake their endless thirst of nectar, but the birds return earlier than the flowers. When the plants do burst with their reds and purples, the birds will forgo the tree feeders for the actual blossoms.

Males and females will share in the floral color, but usually at different times. If a female or small male are feeding when the ruler of the territory arrives, they quickly adjourn to the sidelines. It's not unusual for three or four birds to wait perched on the fence while the dominant male flits confidently from flower to flower. If they should perch too close, he'll abandon his meal to chase them away, returning soon after.

As the season progresses, they'll spend more time at the feeder and at the blossoms. For now we only catch glimpses of them, for a handful of seconds, as they feed. Too quick for the camera or closer observation by us. By the end of the season they'll flirt with us as we sit in the garden or on the patio.

I enjoy many aspects of gardening and my garden. Hummingbirds make the "best of" list, but they aren't present all year (see my blog "A Farewell to Wings"). If you don't have a hummingbird feeder or flowers planted to attract them, I encourage that you start with either. For sheer enjoyment they’re an easy and simple addition to any American garden.

Gardeners around the world grow colorful flowers and plants to attract birds to their landscapes. But it is only in the Americas where hummingbirds grace gardens with their graceful flitting and flying. Smaller than a ping pong ball and scarcely heavier, hummingbirds enthrall lucky observers with their hovering and sideways and backward flight as they gambol among the nectar-filled flowers.

Our hummingbirds have been back for a few weeks. They're migratory and spend their winters in the warm regions of Mexico and Central America. Increasingly, some species have taken to the U.S. Southwest and are choosing to vacation there while cold and snow pummel the rest of the continent. With the arrival of warm weather, they again venture north to breed in more temperate regions. Colorado is one of the many places where hummingbirds frolic in the summer.

Not all hummingbirds migrate, but the ones that do are welcome in my garden. This year my wife was more enthusiastic than I about preparing the feeders. While I was focused on getting the new garden beds ready for planting, she was looking forward to being entertained by the tiny birds.

We removed the feeders from storage, cleaned them up, and hung them near the garden, filled with sugar water. One part sugar to four parts water is the simple formula. They don't need fancy red food coloring, and that is actually discouraged. A splash of red or yellow on the feeder helps attract them, but once they realize there is a free, nutritious meal, they'll be back regardless of the color.

Our hummingbird feeders

Hummingbirds are very smart and are supposed to have amazing memories. They have an average lifespan of five years but can live to about ten. We have no doubt that the birds in the garden now are the same ones from last year. They know a good thing.

Last year I identified the birds we see most often as Rufous hummingbirds. That may be an easy guess because Rufous hummingbirds are the most widely distributed of the hummingbirds in North America. A primary reason I decided on that identification was because of the unique sound our birds make as they patrol the garden and attack interlopers. There is a beautiful trilling sound generated by their feathers as they fly through the air. I've seen it described as a "metallic whining" and that is mostly accurate, but it doesn't adequately describe the vibrant, quavering pitch.

Hummingbirds are extremely difficult to see in flight, but with the distinctive melody of their wings betraying their position, we're able to watch as they climb and dive and quickly stop on a branch or line.

The aerial dogfights as a male protects his territory are fascinating. Last summer I was captivated by three males as they soared through simultaneous combat, with high-speed dives and precision mid-air passes. I didn't see any collisions and couldn't tell if there was contact, but after about 15 minutes one bird sat victorious on the power line above the fence. The other two were banished. Whether he was the proud defender or a cocky invader, it was his earned privilege to oversee the land.

The feeders are hanging from a pine tree to reward such bravado and to encourage the birds to stay while we wait for the flowers to bloom. I have honeysuckle and penstemon planted nearby so they can slake their endless thirst of nectar, but the birds return earlier than the flowers. When the plants do burst with their reds and purples, the birds will forgo the tree feeders for the actual blossoms.

Males and females will share in the floral color, but usually at different times. If a female or small male are feeding when the ruler of the territory arrives, they quickly adjourn to the sidelines. It's not unusual for three or four birds to wait perched on the fence while the dominant male flits confidently from flower to flower. If they should perch too close, he'll abandon his meal to chase them away, returning soon after.

As the season progresses, they'll spend more time at the feeder and at the blossoms. For now we only catch glimpses of them, for a handful of seconds, as they feed. Too quick for the camera or closer observation by us. By the end of the season they'll flirt with us as we sit in the garden or on the patio.

I enjoy many aspects of gardening and my garden. Hummingbirds make the "best of" list, but they aren't present all year (see my blog "A Farewell to Wings"). If you don't have a hummingbird feeder or flowers planted to attract them, I encourage that you start with either. For sheer enjoyment they’re an easy and simple addition to any American garden.

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.