An Absence of Hummingbirds

Gone, all gone. The hummingbirds that kept my balcony abuzz with aerial entertainment and me constantly replenishing their nectar supply have departed for the winter.

In my post last month on the hummers, I speculated whether they would depart in a matter of weeks or mere days. As it turns out, the latter proved true. Just a couple days later, I filled the feeder with fresh nectar and hung it out beneath the eaves outside my sliding glass door, but there were no takers. All day I waited for even a single bird to show. The weather had turned gray and damp, and I thought that maybe the little guys were hunkering down until the sun poked through. But nope, no hummers. Not that day, nor the next, nor the next.

Finally I took down the feeder. The act was my first acquiescence to the coming winter. More such concessions will follow, most of them unpleasant but a few with blithe compensations. The hummingbirds may be gone, but the chickadees and goldfinches have been showing up sporadically, making tentative inquiries into their trusty cold-season food source. It is about time for me to set up their feeding station and reassure them. The birds that overwinter in Caledonia, Michigan, have a friend in me and a haven out on my deck. For the price of a 25-pound sack of black oil sunflower seed and a few pounds of thistle seed, the sparrows, finches, chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, and other winged guests brighten the wintry days with birdsong and a flurry of feathery action–especially the finches, which show up in droves of as many as 15 and appear to have no shutoff valve for their appetites. Slap some suet out on the rail and the woodpeckers will be in constant supply as well.

Right now, though, it’s still early autumn. The winter birds and I haven’t quite connected yet, and I’m contemplating the absence of hummingbirds. This page contains a couple more photos I took of them last month that didn’t turn out too shabbily. They’re my tribute to those iridescent little winged rockets that filled my summer days with many a smile. Thank you, hummers! Have a great winter, wherever you are, and I look forward to seeing you again in the spring.

To Photograph a Hummingbird

Hummingbirds are hard to photograph. At least, I find them so. I’ll grant you, my camera skills are a notch or two down from professional, and I might do better if my selection in glass were broader than a single Sigma 18–200 mm zoom lens.

But that’s what I’ve got to work with, paired with my now somewhat dated but nevertheless trusty Canon Rebel XTi, and so I make do. And I’m often pleased with the results.

The two photos on this page were culled from several dozen photos taken on two separate days. I set up my tripod out on the balcony a couple feet away from the hummingbird feeder, then hunkered down on the other side of the sliding glass door with my remote shutter. Six feet of cable gave me ample distance. You’d think it would have been easy.

But hummingbirds, feisty as they are, are nevertheless skittish when it comes to the click of a shutter. Plus–and I know this will come as a surprise, but it’s nevertheless true–the little buggers don’t sit still long enough for a person to get them in decent focus.

Yes, of course I pre-focused, but I still had to attain a decent balance between depth of field and shutter speed–and believe me, with hummingbirds, you can’t have a fast enough shutter speed. You’re barely starting at 1/250; those wings will be nothing more than a blur. Today I worked at 1/320 and 1/400, and even at those faster speeds it was like trying to photograph a rocket in flight–a rocket that backs up in a trice and sideslips on a whimsy.

But I’m not complaining. Not really. The little guys are fun to watch and just as fun to photograph, and if I’ve only got a couple decent shots to show for my efforts so far, well, at least I got those. Something to remember the hummingbirds by over the long winter. They won’t be around much longer. One morning, maybe just a few days from now, or maybe in a few weeks, I’ll wake up, look for the little rascals carrying on their miniature dogfights with the hornets and with each other around the feeder, and they’ll be gone.

So now is the time to get some pics. And I have to say, the practice is addictive. Once a body gets started on hummingbird photography, the drive is on for new angles, just the right light, and exquisite sharpness. In other words, for the perfect hummingbird photo.

It’s a Holy Grail that continues to elude me, but I keep on trying, and I guess I’ll continue until the hummers are gone. Then I’ll sit back and enjoy my photos, perfect or not. These are the first of the lot. I like them fine, and I hope you do, too.