Perhaps it is our higher elevation. Perhaps it is just that they were languidly enjoying the warmer climates and didn’t want to leave. Perhaps the journey just took longer than usual. But although they were a full month behind others in the area, this afternoon I looked out at the feeder I’ve been diligently refilling in vain for weeks, and there they were: no fewer than three male ruby-throated hummingbirds. In Pittsburgh, when I would stand at the bus stop at the end of my block each April and see the giant magnolia tree finally in full-pink bloom, or finally see the mated pair of red-tails rebuilding the nest in the ancient oak along the parkway, I’d trust that winter was truly over.
Here my faith is placed in, to borrow a lovely phrase from a current student (thanks BG!), the “smallest of the tiny.”