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

Look! Up in the sky! Our ancestors. Nibiru was a no-show again.

Trump thinks he’s an emperor.

Secretary of State Rex Tillerson and about 70 percent of the country think the president is a moron.

Of that remaining 30 percent, a sizable portion believe Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, Maria and the earthquakes that rocked Mexico were god’s vengeance on humankind for (a) the mere existence of gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender persons and (b) the idea that such persons should be allowed the same rights as “normal” people. Others in this group take it as fact that there were a pair of dinosaurs on Noah’s Ark.

This is by way of reporting, in case you missed it, that Nibiru once again failed to live up to its hype. This is not disappointing, but it is getting old.

If you somehow missed it, Nibiru is a “giant planet,” supposedly discovered by the Sumerians, which, according to one translation of ancient Babylonian texts, passes by Earth every 3,600 years to allows its inhabitants to interact with earthlings. NASA says it’s a hoax, but the prediction has evolved (or mutated) into Nibiru (also called Planet X), flying into or close by Earth, causing cataclysmic problems. That was supposed to happen in May 2003 and again in December of 2012. 

Also, Sept. 23 just passed. Missed again, although the “end of times” had been predicted by David Meade, a conspiracy theorist and self-proclaimed “Christian numerologist” who must have miscalculated, as did all those web sites dedicated to Nibiru.

It’s the interactive fly-by of Nibiru that caught my attention, though, not the hellfire and brimstone and rising tides theory. One would have to think that any celestial visitors these days would only have to slow down enough to take a peek at the headlines and decide to come back in another 3600 years when maybe we had our stuff a little better together.

Some people, however, are not willing to wait that long for contact with beings from elsewhere in the universe. Doug Vakoch is one of those. The president of METI (Messaging Extraterrestrial Intelligence) is moving along with announced plans to send messages to stars with planets thought to be capable of sustaining life. First transmissions are scheduled for next year, despite warnings from some noted scientists that in sending messages rather than just listening for them he may be inviting trouble in the form of nasty aliens, as portrayed in many science-fiction movies.

Vakoch and his crew of serious scientists dismiss those portrayals as the result of active imaginations and a situation for which we have no actual data. “One of the reasons people are so afraid of METI is that it seems riskier to do something than to do nothing,” he says.

Ironically, one of those who have voiced warnings about METI is Elon Musk, CEO of SpaceX. Musk is not the sit-around-and-wait -for-things-to-happen type.

Last month, as earthlings were breathing a sigh of relief at having been spared the wrath of Nibiru once more, Musk was in Australia at the annual meeting of the International Astronautical Congress moving up the deadline on his intent (some say pipe dream) to launch a manned mission to Mars. He’s talking 2024. Yes, seven years. Employing a really big rocket with lots of powerful engines, his plan is to launch two cargo missions to Mars in 2022 and four missions in 2024, two cargo and two with crews. Eventually, the goal is to create a colony, with the rockets transporting 100 people per trip.

Paying for his grand plans is always a question with Musk. He says he figures on building lots of rockets (smaller than his original plan) which can also be used to fly people to Paris or London or Tokyo instead of just Mars. He says his system could move people between any two cities on this planet in less than an hour, for an appropriate fee of course. People would be the payload on the Mars rockets, also. Investors welcome.

Closer to home, Musk says the really big rocket could be used to take people to the Moon. “It’s 2017, we should have a lunar base by now,” he said in Australia. “What the hell is going on?”

Well, sir, as stated above, the president (whose business advisory councils you quit and who named a climate-denier to head NASA) thinks he’s an emperor, the secretary of state thinks he’s a moron and 30 percent of Americans — some of whom think dinosaurs were on Noah’s Ark — are apparently still OK with all that.

So, Messrs. Musk and Vakoch, if you don’t mind, let’s get those rockets and inter-planetary messages going quickly, before the emperor declares war on Nibiru.

rjgaydos@gmail.com

By Bob Gaydos

Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto and Donald Trump … a language barrier?

I wrote a column last week in which I said that the media’s decision to give Donald Trump’s core supporters the dignity of a legitimate-sounding political movement name was, essentially, a bunch of hooey. A lazy, cowardly way of saying that the folks most passionate about Trump’s candidacy are bigots.

When you say Alt-Right, read it to mean the KKK, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, previously closeted fascists, anti-gays, and a bunch of woman-haters. The kind of people who, in previous eras stole land from Native Americans and slaughtered thousands of them. Who started a war to preserve slavery. Who had whites-only schools and bathrooms. Who herded fellow Americans of foreign descent into internment camps.

I thought it was a fair, truthful representation of what Americans have been subjected to for nearly a year now. Would that the major media had done the same for the past year. One reader suggested there must have been spittle on my laptop when I got through writing. Quite possible. I’ve been known to get a little messy when I’m angry. To me, one of the most disappointing aspects of this presidential campaign is that not nearly enough people are angry and downright embarrassed that one of our two major political parties has handed its presidential nomination to a congenital liar. A bigot. A misogynist. A narcissist. … There I go again.

Another reader noted a lot of “name-calling” in the piece. I don’t know. It seems to me when I use words to describe the reality of what is going on, it’s not name-calling, it’s doing what Trump says he does. You know, telling it like it is; calling a spade a spade, a bigot a bigot. I think Trump’s own words and actions legitimize every label I affixed to him. You can deny this if you want, but that merely puts you in line with the Republican National Committee, which is in bed with Trump, against its will but for its own selfish purposes. There are names for that, too.

Last week, Trump took his ego to Mexico to meet with that country’s president, Enrique Peña Nieto. After the meeting, Trump said they discussed the infamous wall he has repeatedly vowed to build on the U.S. border with Mexico, but he said the two men did not discuss his demand that Mexico pay for it. Pena Nieto disagreed. He said he “made it clear” at the beginning of the conversation that Mexico would not pay for any wall.

If somebody is lying here, I’m going with Trump. Just hours after his cordial photo op/meeting in Mexico, the candidate was in Phoenix giving as extreme an anti-immigrant speech one could imagine. A wall. Mass deportations of migrant criminals. “Extreme-vetting.” “Ideological certification.” David Duke, former Klan leader, called it “excellent.”

Back in Washington, D.C., Priebus and his RNC crew were once again left trying to figure out how to put a positive spin on Trump’s latest hateful broadside. Their decision was to say nothing because, really, what was there to say. The RNC has made its bed. Now it has to lie in it and about it. Week after week, it has been waiting for Trump to become more … presidential? No, that hope disappeared long ago. Perhaps simply more sane, more rational, more compassionate. Compassion would help. If Trump had any.

Cliche after cliche after cliche comes to mind. What you see is what you get. He is what he is. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Anything beyond that is merely ignoring the loud elephant in the room.

When this campaign is over and Hillary Clinton has become the first woman president in U.S. history — by default, if you wish — Priebus and his fellow GOP travelers will have a major decision to make.

Many Republicans who finally summed up the courage to say they cannot support a candidate with no redeeming social values to be the leader of this country are already trying to figure out where their party goes from here. Or where they go from here, if not with the GOP. For votes and power, they surrendered their party to the likes of the Koch brothers, Fox News and the fearful demands of the Tea Party fringe. Rich bigots lying to not-so-rich bigots.

Trump told them what they wanted to hear. Then he changed his mind. Then he said he never said that. Then he said, the greatest insult of all — that he was going to make America great again.

Listen, great isn’t all it’s trumped-up to be. When this election is over, I would rather be proud of my country again.

rjgaydos@gmail.com