It would seem they’re all alone in the world.
Two tiny baby hummingbirds, sleeping soundly beneath a leafy canopy.
Eyes still closed, tucked securely into their inch and a half-wide nest--a stretchy spider web structure lined with plant down.
Snug and warm as a fine woolen cap.
On a long, low branch of the old sugar maple.
From 40 feet across the yard, she watches, perched on a twig at the very tip of a slender, crooked branch of lichen-covered locust.
Without leaves, it makes the perfect lookout.
And forms the third point of a triangle, with the nest and porch feeders.
All day long, she returns to this spot, feeding every 10 to 15 minutes--then preening in the bright sunshine.
She visits the nest only every 90 minutes or so—standing at the rim just long enough to feed her young from her crop, before disappearing again across the yard.
It surprises me that she no longer spends time here, as she did when they were 2 small eggs.
Perhaps she trusts the warmth of the woolly nest she has given them to snuggle them when she cannot.
And, as inactive as they still are, knows they need less nourishment than she.
Or perhaps, being the sole parent, time is best spent being vigilant--rather than resting with them beneath the low, leafy branches.
Daily nest photos are posted to the slideshow in my sidebar.
