Humming along

In April I took this dispiriting photo.

The purple tulips which had come back nicely the last two (or possibly three) years, this spring managed to produce nothing but limp leaves. (And, oh, dear, that window really needs washing.)

Time, methought, to change things up a bit.

I dug out all the tulip bulbs (to be dried out and transferred in the autumn to the garden) and replaced them in this and the kitchen window boxes with bee-friendly lavender, which will not need to be replaced every year. The hanging baskets would get flowers at some point.

When Catherine was here earlier this week, I spotted a hummingbird when we were sitting outside with our morning coffees and fags. Oh, right, I thought. I was going to get a hummingbird feeder. No time like the present.

On our way down to Drumbeg, I stop at Wheelbarrow. Turns out they don’t sell hummingbird feeders, but that’s okay. Good chance to pick up a couple of Osteospermum (“Tradewinds Deep Purple”) and some lobelia (white and blue) for the hanging baskets.

After a lovely walk (and selfie) at Drumbeg, we drive back via Wild Rose, the other nursery. I know they have hummingbird feeders, because I’ve seen them there.

I am of course immediately drawn to the blue glass feeder. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s cobalt blue glass. (Hello? Have you met me?) Catherine immediately dismisses it, pointing out there is a reason most feeders are red: hummingbirds are attracted to the colour red.

And, yes, I know this is true.

A few years ago a hummingbird got in the house. First I heard its wings humming, then I heard it whacking itself against the skylight in an attempt to escape. The back door, through which it had flown, was wide open, but the bird didn’t seem to be aware of this. I opened all the windows wide to increase the number of potential exits, but the bird still mistakenly thought the skylights were the best escape route. Eventually I had to go to the village to do some shopping, so took a chance and left the back door wide open when I did. Looked around when I returned and thought the bird had figured out how to leave, but I was wrong. Humming wings started up again, along with skylight whacking. Gah! How was I ever going to get the poor thing out of the house? Rang Pat on the off chance that he would have a helpful suggestion. He didn’t, but his visiting friend Margaret did: hang an article of red clothing by the open door. Fantastic suggestion, except I don’t own an article of red clothing. Would anything red do? Yes, said Margaret. Right, I thought, what do I own that’s red? The washing bucket! Of course! Dug it out from under the sink and placed it by the open door. Five minutes later the hummingbird flew out of the house.

So, okay, yeah, I get it. As much as I may want a cobalt blue hummingbird feeder, it ain’t gonna draw a crowd.

There is also a red glass version of the same feeder, but it turns out the bottom does not unscrew, so the feeder cannot be properly cleaned. “It must,” claims the shop manager. He tries. It doesn’t. Nor do the bottoms of my third and fourth choice. (Is the manager, I wonder, going to point these design faults out to future buyers?) So we try a fifth. Eureka! It unscrews for proper cleaning.

As we pay for the feeder (and some basil it will soon be safe to plant outside), Catherine tells me to use cane sugar for the nectar, never beet. The shop manager says he thinks either is fine. Not so, says Catherine, and of course she is right.

Back at the house, I can’t wait to get going. Made-in-China feeder is given a proper wash and rinse. The packet of made-in-China "instant nectar" is put to one side. (The mind boggles.) Catherine tells me I should boil a cup of cane sugar in four cups of water. I look at the feeder. There’s no way it will hold four cups of nectar. Catherine looks at me and says nothing. I boil half a cup of sugar in two cups of water. When it’s taking too long to cool, I stick it in the fridge. We have lunch. I check the nectar. Perfect temperature. Pour it into the holder. It fills less than half of it. I look at Catherine. She smiles. Of course she is right. Lesson learnt.

A cup hook, length of string and a couple of S hooks are assembled and the feeder is attached.

Whilst waiting for the hummingbirds to arrive, I plant the flowers in the hanging baskets.

The next morning, after Catherine leaves, I get around to washing the back windows. The nectar appears to be going down, but I’ve yet to see a hummingbird.

By the next day the word’s apparently gone round the ’hood. 

One visitor conveniently turns up as I take this photo to illustrate the improvements since that first April photo. Can’t see her?

Try this photo.

I am thrilled to report things are humming along nicely.