Anthropomorphizing Anna’s Hummingbirds

Photo by Sujean Kim

I visited Seattle last week with my sisters and my younger nephew, Benjamin, who lives in Cincinnati. On one of our walks, Benjamin saw an Anna’s Hummingbird, and pointed it out to his mom as excitedly as a chill teenager might. We saw a few over the course of the week and always stopped to watch them flit about.

My friend, Aaron, lives in Michigan and is another hummingbird fan. When he and his family came to visit a few years ago, his enthusiasm made me realize that I take them a bit for granted, as we have them here year-round. We have at least two who live near our backyard. I’m watching one now, out my office window, darting between blossoms on our Meyer Lemon tree as the last remnants of the summer light fades away.

I try not to anthropomorphize animals too much, but it’s hard. Hummingbirds seem adorable, but they have a mean streak. Often, when I’m in the backyard, they will swoop nearby and hover, sometimes just a few feet away. I usually hear them before I see them, a steady stream of clicks and the telltale hum. I used to think they were just being curious or were coming by to say hello. I think it’s more likely that they’re being territorial and are making it clear to me that I’m not wanted.

Last Friday, I saw through my window that one of the hummingbirds had flown through a gap through my enclosed raised bed and was struggling to get out. I immediately went outside and opened the door so that it could escape.

It could be my imagination, but I feel like that hummingbird has made it a point to visit me every day since. This morning, I sat on my bench examining one of my unfinished projects, when the hummingbird flew a foot away from me and hovered. I looked at it and said hello. It looked at me calmly for several seconds, as if it were returning the greeting, silent except for the steady vibration of its wings.

I like to think that it’s decided that I’m its friend and is easing up on its territorial ways. It’s also possible that it’s still irritated that it got trapped in my cage and is making a point of letting me know.

It doesn’t matter. I think it’s wonderful. I feel very lucky.

My Nephew and His Frog

To satiate those who have demanded visual evidence that my nephew, Elliott Marcellus Watras, truly exists and to appease those who prefer juicy personal tidbits rather than boring diatribes on collaboration, here’s a picture of my nephew and his mom, Sujean Kim:    (IP9)

   (IPA)

My other sister, Jessica Kim, trekked to Cincinnati a few weeks ago to visit, and she delivered a stuffed frog I bought for Elliott. The frog was accompanied by the following instructions:    (IPB)

   (IPC)

Elliott got the message and improved on it:    (IPD)

   (IPE)

As you can see, the kid has looks and brains.    (IPF)

Honest Abe, Monk Cheese, and Kentucky Bourbon

Spent the day with Sujean Kim and Isaac Watras touring Kentucky. Our first stop was the Abbey of Gethsemani, home of Thomas Merton and homemade cheese, bourbon fudge, and fruitcake. The abbey itself is beautiful, nestled in the heart of Kentucky and surrounded by acres of fields and forest.    (1YF)

We attended a prayer service, where the monks chanted their prayers, and afterwards, we lunched in silence with the brothers. Lunch was disappointing. I expected monks to eat earthy, natural foods. Nope. Frozen fish sticks, frozen fries, frozen vegetables, and canned fruit. Not exactly God’s food.    (1YG)

Afterwards, we drove to Hodgenville to visit Abraham Lincoln‘s birthplace. We stopped off at the Lincoln Museum, where I was stunned to see that they sold Confederate flags. I’ve heard all those arguments for Southern pride, but at the Lincoln Museum?! Strange place, the south. Not sure that Honest Abe would have approved.    (1YH)

We ended our day in Bardstown, a great little nearby town that happens to lie smack in the middle of Kentucky’s bourbon trail. Had dinner and drinks at the historical Old Talbott Tavern, where I tried Four Roses bourbon for the first time. (I also tasted Booker, a Jim Beam varietal. All I have to say is, Kentuckyians like their whiskey strong.)    (1YI)

I enjoyed Four Roses so much, we went around the corner to buy a few bottles at the neighborhood liquor store. The clerk was Frederick Noe‘s (“Booker”) nephew, and he told us some good stories about the Beam household.    (1YJ)

Lots of local folks hung out at the store, buying beer and opening it there. While I was deciding how many bottles of bourbon I could haul home, my brother-in-law overheard the following conversation between a portly man and his companions:    (1YK)

“Had an accident at my house the other day. Fell off a ladder.”    (1YL)

“How far’d you fall?”    (1YM)

“Ten feet.”    (1YN)

“That’s not so far.”    (1YO)

“Ten feet’s a long way for a fat man.”    (1YP)