Birders tend to worry about birds when there’s a long run of bitter cold days. Anna’s hummingbirds, especially, are in danger. Most birds survive but it’s often a bittersweet story.
Carol Strickland read the last column about feeding wintering Anna’s hummingbirds, mixed up some sugar water and hung the feeder.
“Immediately there were hummingbirds coming to the feeder. All summer I saw maybe three of them,” she said.
Later on, when she took down the feeder, she heard a high-pitched sound.
“I looked at the feeder; a hummingbird was on the ring. It was like her feet were actually frozen. She didn’t move.”
Strickland brought the feeder and attached bird into an empty guest room, hoping for a sweet solution.
“In checking on her later, she was breathing; then she was no longer on the feeder … I said goodnight and wished her well.”
Another check found the Anna’s hummingbird perched on the rim of an oversized mug in the windowsill.
“She’s a great Christmas guest right out of my great Aunt Ruth’s life: She took in ducks at her cabin on a lake in northern Michigan when the winter was harsh.”
Monday came the bittersweet chapter.
“I found a dying Mrs. Anna next to her favorite perching mug. I tried to coax her to take some sugar water but she was not responsive. I think she died of starvation even though the feeder was in the room with her.”
Hummingbirds’ high rate of metabolism makes them behave in a way that pleases us (frantically zipping back and forth to our feeders), but it’s also an unforgiving piece of biology.
“The feeder is back outside. I’m hoping that her family and friends are still surviving in the tree next door and might come for food. I think from now on I will pay more attention to this beautiful amazing bird that lives so close to me.”
Carol Haas had a slightly different cold-weather story.
Her feeder had been incredibly popular with the local hummer population. She had thawed and cleaned it, added fresh sugar water, and hung it up earlier in the day.
“Within five minutes, four hummingbirds were out there,” Haas said.
But one male had done more sitting by the feeder than eating. He may have been sick or just exhausted. Occasionally he would take a drink but did not leave to find a sheltered place for the night with the others.
“He drank out of it but mostly he just sat on the railing,” Haas said.
She went outside to bring in the feeder.
“Even when I went out there to get the food in, he was right there, 6 inches from my face trying to get more food.”
Eventually he left, his fate uncertain.
On the bookshelf: I’ve read dozens of books retelling mountain-climbing experiences and never shed a tear at climbers’ deaths.
But at one point I did get all watery while reading Jennifer Lowe-Anker’s “Forget Me Not” ($25, Mountaineers), her account of loving, living and dealing with her husband Alex Lowe’s 1999 death by Himalayan avalanche and her sudden entry into single parenthood.
Jennifer’s portrait of Alex as a full human being, often using his own letters and comments; and her dealing with his death while maintaining a safe space for three young children, is beautifully written, polished and moving.
And her decision to marry Alex’s best friend and fellow climber in 2001 seems … right … despite all the obvious questions (Conrad Anker has adopted the children).
There is a Tibetan Buddhist mantra, “om mani padme hum,” very roughly translated as, “follow the path of wisdom and compassion to gain purity of mind and body.”
“Forget Me Not” has wisdom and compassion, raw grief, love and friendship, and a better understanding of one mountain climber who seemed to transcend the stereotypical ego-driven model; and a second climber who, with Jennifer, accepted the power of love for themselves.
Columnist Sharon Wootton can be reached at 360-468-3964 or www.songandword.com.
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