By Bob Gaydos

For hummingbirds, it’s always feeding time.
RJ Photography

   It seems you can teach an old dog new tricks. I am now a certified hummingbird feeder filler. Well, apprentice.

      More importantly, in the spirit of responsibility that comes with the new title and duties, I feel obliged to give you advance warning to feed and enjoy your hummingbirds now while you may because cooler weather is on the horizon.

     If you live anywhere on the East Coast in the umbrella of the annual hummingbird invasion and occupation, you know that feeding hummingbirds is a pretty big deal. In fact, in the mid-Hudson/Catskills region where I live it’s often the topic of daily conversation.

     So I’m kind of proud of my new designation. And I don’t take it lightly, not with all the whizzing, hovering and humming going on outside our back door.

       The annual visitors and their fledglings have given new dimension to the term feeding frenzy. Now I know why nectar enjoys such an exalted reputation.

        As with many things in my life, I have come to an awareness and appreciation of the hummingbird phenomenon somewhat belatedly. Living in cities for much of that time worked against running into hummingbirds. So did a lack of attention to nature in general.

       But better  belatedly than never … except when you’re feeding.

         There’s nothing like sitting quietly and watching the feeding of half a dozen or so hummingbirds, darting and hovering in, sucking the nectar out of four feeders. Being a novice feeder filler, I actually sat and waited recently to see if my recipe would meet with the birds’ approval, even though I was following a recipe given to me. Basically, sugar and water in the right ratio.

          As I sat watching the hummers jockeying for access to the feeders, one of them flew within about 6 feet of me, stopped, stared me straight in the face and hovered frenetically for about 30 seconds. I was a new feeder and I was getting the once over.

         Judging by the return visits, I think I passed.    

      Watching the feeding is only half the fascination.  What hummingbirds go through every year just to get to our backyard and all the other welcoming feeding places in the Eastern U.S. is an epic tale.

    Regular hummingbird watchers are pretty much aware of it, but I’ll fill in the rest of you cityfolk briefly.

    Ruby-throats, which are the common variety in our area, nest throughout summer and early fall in the eastern United States and southern Canada. They stock up constantly on nectar and bugs to build up the strength for the annual winter migration whence they came from — across the Gulf of Mexico to Mexico and Central America. Some winter in Florida. Go figure.

    They make this round trip every year, flying up to 20 miles a day during daylight hours, when food sources are visible, and an amazing 500 miles at a shot when crossing the Gulf of Mexico. Their average flying speed is between 20 and 30 miles an hour.

     They fly alone and often return to the same source of food on either end. 

      Hummingbirds fly north over the gulf each year for warmer weather and to mate, typically having two fledglings, which the female is left to raise while the male hums around flashing his  his ruby-red throat. When it’s time to go back to Mexico, however, it’s every hummingbird for him or her self.

    And that time will soon be coming in the eastern part of the U.S. as cooler temperatures will find the visitors stocking up on nourishment for the long flight back to their winter home. During that trip, it’s said that a hummingbird’s heart beats up to 1,260 times a minute and its wings flap 15 to 80 times a second. Kind of like me going upstairs.

     In any event, it takes a lot of strength to support that output of energy. For me, that means feeding them well on this end now and  enjoying their company in the waning days of summer while avoiding the news of the day. Like I said, a slow learner.

    Weather and prevailing winds allowing, maybe the birds will return next year, even to an apprentice hummingbird feeder.

(PS: Watch out for the yellowjackets. They love  nectar, too.)

(PPS: Sept. 2 was National Hummingbird Day.)

      rjgaydos@gmail.com

By Bob Gaydos

          The coat.

This has become personal. This waking up daily with a feeling of incredulity, depression, bewilderment, sadness, anxiety, anger, fear, loathing and profound resentment. This thing, this overwhelming syndrome, this … this suck-the-joy-out-of-life condition called the Donald Trump presidency. It’s real, but it’s not normal. And try as I may to act as if it’s not there, to “get on with life” as it were, I inevitably wind up back at the same place, wishing it weren’t.

It used to be, just a couple of years ago in fact, that writing a blog was, for me, a freeing experience. It was just like writing a newspaper column or daily editorial, except you didn’t get paid for it. On the other hand, you had absolute, unlimited choice of topic, from soup to nuts to … well let’s just stay there for a minute.

There was a time, again, not so long ago, that I relished the  opportunity to craft an entire blog (column) around a throwaway cliche like “soup to nuts.” What’s that all about? It was fun and informative for me and I tried to make it the same for readers. After all, life can’t just be the same, old, umm, rat race.

Then came Trump. All Trump, all the time.

All of a sudden, I found myself arguing with myself:

“No one wants to read about the worst new food idea.”

“Sure they do. They need a break from the dotard just like I do.”

“But can you really get a whole column about the fact that the world isn’t ready for — doesn’t really need — chocolate hummus?”

“Yes. It’s a dumb idea. The question is do I have the energy to spend the time and will it seem trivial? I mean, did they have to add all that sugar? What were they thinking? It could be a health column. People like those.”

“Seriously?”

“Maybe not. So maybe I should also forget about writing about what a dumb idea rectangular coffee cups are?”

“Probably.”

“But honestly, did the geniuses try drinking with the cup before manufacturing it? Try wrapping your lips around that rim, folks. And why would a diner, which arguably owes its existence to providing people with coffee to get them through the day, want to make it harder for them — us … well, me — to do so. And could they at least make it a full-size mug for Pete’s sake? Is everyone looking for a quick buck?”

“No one cares.”

‘Well, I care.”

And so, it seems, I’ve come back to the World of Trump. That coat that the mute Melania wore to cheer up the children from Central America whom her husband had ordered locked in cages after taking them away from their parents who were bringing them to America to escape violence in their homelands and to find hope for better lives. What a cruel, evil, ignorant policy. What a cruel, evil, ignorant man.

“I really don’t care, do u?” was the message on Melania’s coat. Trying to figure out her real message, of course, was just another diversion from what was actually going on, but its inappropriateness again highlighted the ineptitude that co-exists with the callousness of this family, this administration.

And what else was going on at the time? Trump, as usual, was blaming Democrats for his lock-the-kids-up policy, while also waging war against immigrants, documented or otherwise, and holding campaign rallies to energize the like-minded, ill-informed, fear-based supporters of his cult, officially known as the Republican Party.

Conservative columnist George Will, having left the party, now urges all Americans to vote for every Democrat they can to save the country,  because Republicans can’t or won’t. A little late, George, but welcome. Republicans, of course, have lost their courage, morals, principles and all sense of what legislating for the common good means. They want to gut Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security and prevent people with pre-existing conditions from getting health insurance because they ballooned the national debt by giving rich people a huge tax break.

Of course, Trumpsters don’t care or don’t care to know about what’s really going on and I’ve written so often about it that, well, Dotard Syndrome. Turn on Fox; turn off brain.

Aside from a trade war with U.S. allies, one other thing was going on while Melania was wearing her stylishly dumb coat — the Trump team, which has been busy shredding laws and regulations that protect Americans from unscrupulous, greedy corporations, was in the process of drawing up a reorganization of the entire government. From soup to nuts, as it were.

I can’t tell you how relieved I am that a man who has “reorganized” three casinos, two casino holding companies, a phony college and the Plaza Hotel into bankruptcy, all while milking them for every penny he could get, is planning on reorganizing the entire federal government to make it more efficient — which is to say, less useful and unconcerned with those whose daddy didn’t give them a million bucks to get a head start in the world. He and his cohorts and enablers, of course, will take their profits where they can.

As Melania might say, “Let them eat chocolate hummus.”

Do I care? Obviously, more than I wish I had to.

(Editor’s note: “Soup to nuts” as defined in Wikipedia: ” ‘Soup to nuts’ is an American English idiom that conveys the meaning of “from beginning to end.” It is derived from the description of a full-course dinner, in which courses progress from soup to a dessert of nuts.” But of course, my readers already knew this.)

rjgaydos@gmail.com