One morning in Narragansett, Rhode Island, as I tugged open the blinds on our front glass doors—painted a bold, cherry red for accent flair—I was still blinking the sleep from my eyes when a green-and-red blur zipped into view. For a split second, I thought it was some mutant bug from a radioactive garden. It hovered. It stared. I stared. And then it clicked: this was no bug. This was my first-ever hummingbird.
And not just any hummingbird—this was the Ruby-throated Hummingbird, the only hummingbird brave enough (and charming enough) to make its breeding home in eastern North America. With feathers that shimmer like gemstones in the sun and wings that beat faster than a teenager’s heart at prom—about 53 times a second—they are equal parts miracle and mischief.
That day was the beginning of a summer romance.
Naturally, I did what any smitten admirer would do: I Googled it. Then I started planting honeysuckle and trumpet vine like a love-struck gardener. I put out feeders filled with homemade nectar (no red dye—just sugar and water, thank you very much). Now, every year, right around mid-May, when the little aerial acrobats return from their epic spring migration – the feeders are out.
And what a migration it is—some of these tiny dynamos cross the Gulf of Mexico in one nonstop flight. No layovers, no snacks, just 500 miles of determination in a body that weighs less than a nickel. Incredible.
Now, thanks to my efforts, I get regular visits from these airborne marvels. Photographing them, though? That’s another story. You try capturing a bird that can fly backwards, upside down, sideways, and then vanish in a blink. Their flight style is less “graceful glide” and more “Beam me up Scotty.” Only lightning fast!
But every so often, I get lucky. I’ll be watching through the lens, and suddenly the dull patch on the male’s throat—usually as bland as wet cardboard—catches the sunlight just right. Boom. Fire. It’s like nature said, “Let me show you something real quick,” and then disappeared with a flourish.
So if you ever find yourself in hummingbird country, hang a feeder. Plant some bright flowers. And wait. With a bit of luck, you’ll be treated to the world’s tiniest airshow starring birds that don’t just defy gravity—they dance with it.
And when one hovers at your window like a jewel with wings, don’t be surprised if you stand there, frozen, thinking: Wait a minute… is that thing looking at me?
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