The Nature Of Hummingbirds

Chapter One
Navaho Legend

“Tell me the story about how hummingbirds were made”
“You have to promise me you will go to sleep then.”
“Okaaay, I promise.” CC rolled her blue eyes impatiently.
“Well, this is a very old story…” She watched her father as he shifted in his chair. “My father told it to me when I was about your age, and someday you will tell it to your children too. It all began a long, long time ago…..”
There was an old Navajo legend about how the hummingbirds came to be. In the beginning when the world was very young, the earth was populated by many birds. They all had the same feathers, were all the same size, and all sang the same song. There was a bird counsel that governed the bird kingdom. Those birds that did good deeds would earn special favors – maybe some colorful feathers or a special song.
Those that displeased the Council would be punished with drab feathers or other unattractive features. All of the birds agreed that they would only eat insects and seeds – but would not eat the flowers in the gardens. The flowers were to be specifically for the butterflies and bees.”
“Like the butterfly bush?” CC interrupted sleepily.

“Yes, that’s right. Anyway close your eyes and I will finish the story.” John reached over, adjusted CC’s blanket, and waited for her to settle down once again.
“One of the birds was always hungry, and was eating constantly – from dusk till dawn. He could never satisfy his appetite. He ate the sticky seeds of the mulberry, the tiny spiders that hung from the old pepper tree, the large seeds of the sunflowers. He ate constantly. He had an insatiable appetite.
The other birds began to complain to the bird council about this one bird. They felt he was being selfish by eating more than his fair share of the food.
One day the hungry bird decided to get up early – before the other birds arose. It hurt his feelings that his friends monitored everything he consumed, so he wished to dine alone while the others were still sleeping.
It was dusk outside, too early to search for seeds and insects. The first rays of light were just touching the flower beds by the grape arbor. He was so hungry; after some deliberation he decided to sample some of the blossoms in the garden. He felt a bit guilty – but he couldn’t help himself, they looked so tempting. The other birds were still sleeping and would never know.
What harm would that be – just a little sample to take the edge off his hunger? He decided to try some of the morning glories first. Looking this way and that, the coast was clear. Ahhh, he could smell their perfume beckoning hi, casting their sweet spell on him
What the heck he thought as he dove head first into the nearest blossom. Oh my, they were as sweet as honey.
Next the petunia bed beckoned, oh pure heaven, then a basket of pink fuchsias, and some fragrant sage. What wonders; he had never tasted anything so delicious.
He became quite excited and darted from plant to plant not noticing that he was tearing many of the blossoms in his haste. Soon he had sampled most of the flowers in the garden and was feeling groggy from too much sugar. With a contented sigh he flew back to his nest for a long nap.
The rest of the birds were awakened early in the morning by the cries of the butterflies. There was a lot of shouting and ruckus. “What happened, who has eaten our blossoms”? Oh, they were very angry.
Dryfus, a sassy sparrow from The Bird Council upon hearing the butterflies’ cries rushed to examine the damage. Petunias lay shredded on the garden floor. The fuchsias were decimated, and the hollyhocks drooped over themselves. Dryfus shook his head. It was a shocking mess.
“Who did this? Who ate the butterflies’ blossoms”? “Not I” said a yellow and black caterpillar that had crawled onto a nearby branch. “Not I” said a small snail sitting on a mulberry leaf. “But maybe it was HIM – he eats everything” nodding in the direction of the still sleeping bird. “That’s true- his is so greedy” many of the birds agreed, moving closer to his nest. “Wake up, wake up” they chanted to the sleeping bird. “Did you do this; did you eat the butterflies’ food”?
The sleepy bird roused - surprised to find the bird council surrounding his nest.
“What… what’s going on?” he asked sleepily, shaking his head and looking at the crowd.
“Harummp. As if you didn’t know” scolded Mrs. Finch pushing her two fledglings back into their nest. “Look now, you’ve woken my babies.”
The hungry bird lowered his head in shame. “It’s true. It was I. But…but I had to. I can’t help if I am always hungry” he protested.
A cry went up from the crowd. The birds were furious and all agreed that the hungry bird must be punished. “Look how big he is. Maybe if he were smaller he wouldn’t eat so much”.
“Yes” they all agreed in unison.
“Ohhh” cried Wanda wren. ”Now we have done it” What she was referring to was the collective consciousness of the bird council. When they agreed to something in unison it would come to past. Thoughts became reality and this crowd was all thinking the same thought.
“Oh my, look, he is getting smaller”
That said, the hungry bird began to shrink till his body became very small.
“Oh no, now I am the smallest bird in the garden” he wailed. He felt so little and inadequate compared to the rest of the flock. He cried and cried, heartbroken at this turn of events. This went on for quite some time. Moved by the cries of the small bird, the council held another emergency meeting. “We must do something”. They began to feel sorry for him “Listen to his cries – he truly can’t help himself. I think we have been too harsh.”
“But he destroyed our petunias” objected the butterflies.
“Throw him out of the garden” someone yelled from the mulberry bush.
A murmur of dissent rumbled through the crowd.
“Order! Order! QUIET! As if on cue all chattering stopped and all heads turned to face Darkfeather, an aging brown hawk, and Head Council.
“Now - no one is going to be thrown out of the garden. Is that understood? Butterflies-you have my apologies, and will be compensated for your damage.”
Darkfeather nodded at his seven council leaders “Follow me”, and they adjourned to the sunflower patch where they sat huddled in a circle whispering. An occasional objection could be heard over the low mumbling and arguing. A hasty vote was taken and the small bird was summoned again before the Council.
The birds were all chattering at the same time. Clearing his throat, Simon, an old barn owl, and senior member of the Council stepped forward. “Silence please - quiet”
He peered over the rims of his glasses at the other council members then turned to face the little bird that stood trembling before him.
“We, the Council, (here he cleared his throat importantly), have unanimously decided … (he paused dramatically) …. we have been too harsh in our judgment of you little bird.” They all nodded in agreement.
” After much deliberation we have decided… (he paused again, looked around, satisfied that he had everyone’s attention) … that we will allow you to eat the blossoms in our garden since you can’t possibly eat very much now – being so small”.
“Ooooh” the little bird exhaled, relieved.
“Wait, there is more” commanded Simon. “In exchange for this favor you must work with the butterflies and bees to help pollinate the flowers and compensate them for the damage you have caused. Some of them are quite upset.” A few heckles came from the crowd.
You will apologize to them too. Is that understood?”
“Oh yes, yes, thank you” the little bird sighed, and sat down quietly beside a fragrant clump of violas.
He tried to ignore them – but their honeyed scent mixed with all the excitement was making him so hungry. He glanced at Simon guiltily, who smiled. “You’re dismissed –and please go ahead,” seeing that little bird was still hungry.
Little bird nibbled on one small petal. He looked around. The crowd was beginning to dissipate and none of the other birds seemed to mind-they were all chattering. It tasted so good – he soon forgot himself, and began munching the golden pollen and drinking the sweet nectar. His heart was full of gratitude. Being small wasn’t so bad after all he decided.
So happy was he that he wished to sing a joyful song of thanks. He cleared his throat and opened his beak. Nothing. Well, maybe he was too excited. He relaxed and tried again – opening his beak wider this time.

No sound came from his throat – only little chirps and squeaks. Something seemed to be terribly wrong. “Oh no – what has happened to my voice” he cried. “What kind of a bird am I? I am too small, I am ugly, and now I cannot sing” He fell into a deep melancholy and fled to his nest. Never had the council heard such wailing. It went on for hours and hours. Not even when they offered him some sweet nectar from the fuchsias could they lure him from his nest. The little bird became even smaller and smaller as he refused to eat and he could only wonder at why he was being punished so harshly.
One of the blue jays feeling sorry for the little bird offered him one of his feathers. “Everyone deserves to have something that they can be proud of” he said. The other birds agreed and followed suit, each offering the little bird one of their bright feathers. Soon there was a large pile of colorful feathers near little birds nest.
Red Robin smiled at the generous contribution of the group and whispered something into Blue Jay’s ear. Blue Jay nodded and turned to Woodpecker sitting next to him and repeated the message. And around the circle they went until you could feel the excitement in the air.
“Let me go first” begged the sparrow stepping forward. She walked daintily up to the big pile of feathers and began pecking at them. You could see the anticipation in the eyes of the other birds. Next a yellow finch stepped up to help the sparrow. “May I help too please”? It attempted to pick up one of the larger feathers and staggered backwards under its weight. Everyone laughed good naturedly as she tumbled head over heels into the pile of soft feathers.
And so it went - on and on until each of the birds had joined in to weave the individual feathers into a grand cape.
An imposing black crow stepped forward “Allow me please” he said picking up the heavy cap. “Come little bird – come. We have a gift for you” the birds cried in unison.
Little bird snuffled and peered over the rim of his nest, blinking his eyes at the sight of the beautiful cape. “Come on now” said the black crow gruffly. “This is heavy.” Little bird stepped forward shyly and stood before the crow who then placed the cape gently on the little birds shoulders. There were oooh’s and aaah’s from the crowd.
He shone like a tiny jewel and all the birds agreed that he looked quite handsome. Little bird fluffed his new feathers, twisting this way and that to preen them. He had to admit that they were right. He did look beautiful - it was a splendid coat. He carefully tested his new wings, and discovered that he was able to fly quite fast – in fact much faster than the other birds.
He darted over their heads, pausing briefly at the fuchsias for a quick taste, and then darted back again. He hovered in front of his generous friends, shyly nibbling at the golden pollen that clung to his beak.
The bird council sat in awe at this amazing transformation.
“Thank you…you have all been so kind…” the little bird blushed as he struggled for words of gratitude. He wasn’t used to speaking in front of such a large crowd, and fled before they could see his embarrassment.
He was so happy and grateful; he began to hum to himself. He tested his voice. It was a strong hum. True, it wasn’t a song – but it was uniquely his. Not too bad. He could get used to it. Little bird was feeling better and he was still hungry.
The bird council was pleased with their creation.
We shall call him hummingbird. He may be the smallest of our species, but he will also be the fastest. He will help the bees and the butterflies pollinate our flowers, and in exchange for his hard work we will allow him to drink as much nectar as he desires”. John paused, deep in thought, outlining one of the denim squares with the tip of his finger. “And that is how the hummingbirds’ came to be.”
The petite figure curled in a ball was now sound asleep. John stared down at the little form of his daughter. A flicker of a smile crossed his face for just a moment. She looked so much like his dear Louise. Careful not to disturb his little daughter, he blew out the kerosene lamp and tiptoed out of her room.

The Nature Of Hummingbirds

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Hummingbird Breakfast poem

Chapter 1

Title and Table of Contents