The party starts at dawn and ends at dark. Walking outside I am surrounded by a cacophony of buzzing and clicking noises from three species of hummingbirds celebrating flower blooms. In his book Animal Speak, Ted Andrews says hummingbirds bring joy to who ever they visit. I always feel honored and lucky to see the jewel colored beings outside my window in California. But here, in a friends garden in the Teton National Forest, there are about 50 at any one time. Its spring and they are sucking up the sweet nectar from the lupine, penstemon, columbine, poppies and delphiniums, as well as the 4 feeders of sugar water I have put out for them. The male Roufous with its rust colored body and bright gold orange throat arrived a couple of days ago. The Broad Tail and the Calliope have been at the celebration for almost a month.
They are so busy they take no mind of my presence except to occasionally flutter in front of me, point their spear like beak in my face and stare. I suppose they are as curious about me as I am about them. They have landed on my apple green hat, love my coral shirt, and fly within an inch of my ears. Yesterday morning 6 different hummers flew inside the house. Most found their way out, but two of them stopped panicking long enough to allow me to carry them back to freedom on my index finger.
In a nest made of root and bark peels mixed with spider webs, mommy is feeding a family of two. Nine days old, they are just getting feathers. Without a magnifying glass it’s difficult to tell there is anything alive in the down and lichen bed. Mother reguratated her food at an angle allowing her beak to be straight above the babies yet developed bill. Then one lima bean sized baby maneuvered it’s tail up in the air and shot out liquid so that nothing soiled the nest.
Despite the celebratory atmosphere, hummingbirds are territorial. They make a distinctive squirt sound while defending their food source and use their beaks as weapons. One came dive boming toward an intruder and then took off straight into the air making the sound of a firecracker as it dwindles out. I have to dodge their kamakazi flying manuvers as they swirl downward in battle. Even my dog Zia flinches when they zoom past.
Outside my window a dead hummingbird is hanging upside down, little black feet tightly curled around the tiniest branch of the lilac tree. Birds feet curl without effort in order to allow them to relax, sleep, and die, without falling off the branch.
It’s now 9:15 pm and I am outside. There is a frenzy around the flowers as if the last call for nectar had just been announced. They all disappear minutes before the first star should show itself. But instead, the entire top edge of the mountains light up every 15 seconds in a storm display that looks as if God is taking pictures with a gigantic flash. And then I notice how Joyful I feel. 
about 40 minutes North of town. The stars are a pair of baby Great Horned owls. Matinees are best as the fledglings are more active around dusk. I’ve been out to see this show several times and never tire of watching it.
Birds are everywhere here too. I have never been a ‘birder’ but the bright yellow, red-headed male Western Tanager is slowly making me into one. If that species doesn’t do it, the Mountain Blue bird will. There is only one kind of hummingbird here but they too are everywhere. I found one lying on the deck (it probably hit the window) in a puddle of water, and thought for sure it was dead. I needed only one finger to lift the emerald green being into my warm palm. It lay there flat out with one wing spread to the side and its beak and throat against my skin.
