The backyard is alive with the happy chirping and flitting of mating birds. No longer just streaking by left to right, right to left at all different altitudes, but up and down in a crashing of wings and back and forth until somebody gives. It’s annoying.
The female hummingbird is perched on one lilac, keeping her eye on the red globe of sugarwater hanging in another. She looks nervous and edgy, looking this way and that and then her man zooms in for a drink. She zips over to meet him and while late in the season he will viciously stab at her to keep her away, he greets and meets her in an up and down dance then they disappear from my view, seeming to fall to the ground.
I go over and peek–nothing there. But I imagine her laying in the soft dewy grass, a smile on her beak while he stands nearby slowly exhaling a stream of cigarette smoke.