A few weeks ago I wrote about Honey, the hummingbird who built a nest in our patio lights without asking anyone’s permission. That post ended with two eggs and a lot of hoping. This one is the part we were waiting for.
The eggs hatched. There are two of them, and my daughter named them Daisy and Dandi before they had even opened their eyes.
We first saw them on the fifth of June, which also happens to be my daughter’s birthday. She has decided this is not a coincidence. As far as she is concerned, she and Daisy and Dandi all share the same birthday now, and honestly, I am not going to be the one to argue with her about it.
Honey changed her whole routine
When there were just eggs, Honey barely left. She sat on that nest through wind and noise and our nervous faces at the window, hardly moving for two and a half weeks.
The moment the chicks arrived, everything flipped. Now she is gone constantly, darting off and coming back, off and back, ferrying food to two mouths that never seem to be full. Daisy and Dandi have grown so fast that Honey can’t even fit in the nest with them anymore. She perches on the rim or hovers nearby. She only really settles in when she senses something is off, a cat in the yard, a bird overhead, and then she is right there, fierce and tiny, guarding them.
Learning to fly, or so we think
The part my daughter loves most is when Honey hangs in the air near the nest, wings going, holding perfectly still in one spot. My daughter is certain this is flying lessons, mom showing Daisy and Dandi how it is done.
I have read enough now to know hummingbird chicks mostly figure out flight on their own, and that the hovering is probably Honey feeding them or keeping watch. But I have also decided that my daughter’s version is the better story, and I am keeping it.
The goodbye we can already feel
They are getting big. Their feathers are filling in, the nest looks two sizes too small, and any day now Daisy and Dandi are going to lift off those patio lights and not come back.
My daughter already knows this, and she is already a little sad about it. Some days she suddenly asks if today is the day. I told her the kind thing about Honey is also the hard thing: this whole patio was only ever a launch pad. The good news, the part I keep reminding her of, is that Honey will keep feeding the two of them for a little while even after they fly, so the goodbye happens slowly rather than all at once.
For now they are still here. Still ours to watch from the window, still squeaking for food, still impossibly small. We named them, we worried over them, and soon we will let them go.
Fly well, Daisy and Dandi. You picked a good first home.
This is a follow-up to Meet Honey, the story of the hummingbird who built a nest in our patio lights. If one ever nests near you, keep your distance, leave the branch alone, and you might get a few weeks of the best show in the neighborhood.