I have a huge flock of hummingbirds on my property by this time of year. By early August the babies had all fledged and I could barely keep the feeders full…

There are at least 3 varieties, including this beautiful reddish brown one known as a “rufous.” Thanks to Bryan Hanson for the beautiful photograph!
Back in 2017 when we first saw our New Mexico property on a damp, exceedingly cold and muddy April day, I was absolutely entranced by these little guys. Up to then, I’d probably seen 3 dozen hummingbirds my entire life! The owner had wisely just put up some feeders, creating an ambiance of natural buzzing, colorful wonder. They seemed rare and special.
Those little guys helped sell the house to us. So that was a smart move on the owner’s part, especially since she had no idea I created animal jewelry(including hummingbird jewelry) for a living!
Life with Hummers
I get buzzed almost every time I walk outside, especially if I happen to be wearing something red. (Apparently I get mistaken for our local Indian paintbrush flower) There are often 25 hummingbirds at a glance out the window, all vying for a spot at one of my feeders.
At least one hummer hightails it up to my studio window almost every day, spying on me sideways with those tiny beady eyes, wings a blur. I wonder what they think of me?
I wish I could tell them apart, give them names. But they are WAY too fast for me to pick out any identifying features, beyond noticing that the females are more demure, the males more aggressive.
Their high, cricket-like chirping fills the air, especially right outside our house. But almost anywhere on our 20 acres you can see their little rocket bodies zooming through the air. And they travel pretty darned high!
I have a generous supply of white sugar. I find this especially embarrassing, having NEVER purchased sugar for human consumption since I was a very young woman. Now? I stock up on those little 4 pound bags almost every time I go to Albuquerque.
Seasons Change, Hummingbirds Migrate
By this time of year I look forward to October. That’s when they all migrate to Central and South America and give me a break from their care. I had no idea I’d end up feeding close to 50 of the little buggers by late summer.
I often tell my husband, “It’s a good thing they’re cute!”
But I know that after a long New Mexico winter that normally begins in October, I’ll be watching for that first hummingbird in April. Her uncanny inner GPS will guide her and her cohorts back to my property. I’ll sigh, realizing I have become a hummingbird symbiote*, dust off the feeders in my mudroom and start the entire cycle over again.
Do you have your own hummingbird story? I’d love to hear it!
* Symbiote: an organism in a partnership with another such that each profits from their being together

I didn’t believe it was possible…Snow in May? We woke up last Friday to big, fat flakes covering our high green grass and dusting our blooming iris.
A couple days ago I was standing around admiring the foliage, the smells and the mountain breezes on our property. I heard a leathery “swish swish” above my head and looked up in time to see two enormous ravens lazily beating wings as they passed overhead.
Now that I am back in the Magic Zoo saddle, I wanted to reassure everyone that I am fully operational and ready for the coming months! I can walk like a normal person (look Ma, no cane!) and every day my leg gets stronger and stronger. It’s amazing what physical therapy, a healthy diet and an impatient attitude can do. (I’m afraid I didn’t make a very good invalid.)
There have been at least two Magic Zoo milestones this week. Graduating from an “old lady walker” to a cane
Two weeks ago I learned firsthand how everything can change in a split second. One minute I was jogging down the dirt road in front of our property, the next minute I turned ever-so-slightly to answer my tagging-along grandson’s question and the following instant I was on the ground with a broken hip. (I didn’t know it was broken at the time, but I suspected something was more wrong than just a bruised ego, which I also had.)
Just a few days ago this little bunny obligingly sat outside our kitchen window, nibbling at winter leftovers. To me his lunch seemed pretty dry and unappetizing, but he just chomped down that long dry stem as if it were a strand of uncooked spaghetti.
I was invited to participate in the “Remarkable Women Artists” invitational show at
We’re cozy in our mountain home, but outside it’s snowing “corn snow” which, according to dictionary.com, is “snow in the form of small pellets or grains produced by the alternate melting and freezing of a snow layer.” To me they look like tiny snow balls.