While out running errands one gloomy winter afternoon, my wife and I pulled into the drive through and spotted a hummingbird sipping nectar from a feeder hung above the porch. Surprised by the sight, I asked the barista about it and was told the Anna’s hummingbird winters over here on the Olympic peninsula. Once home we found an old feeder mom had and made a batch of nectar to hang in front of the picture window. For several months, there was one hummingbird who visited throughout the day and a single batch of nectar seemed to last indefinitely; that is, until the local hummingbird experts scolded us for not cleaning the feeder and changing nectar regularly.

Hoping to attract more hummingbirds in late spring, we added 2 more feeders and within days, our little outdoor bistro was “discovered”. Turns out that there are two types of hummingbirds here, iridescent green and red Anna’s, which winter over, and the smaller orange and brown Rufous, which migrate. Daily my wife, our cat Tigger and I, are dazzled by their amazing displays of aerial acrobatics the likes of which any “Top Gun” can only dream.

Hummingbirds feeding are a fascinating and beautiful sight. The Anna’s hummingbirds seem to change colors as they repeatedly probe the feeder with their needle-like beaks and long tongues. When they pop in to feed, sometimes it’s for a quick dip and sip all the while hovering, other times for a long draw while perched and at rest. And then without notice, they dart away just as fast as they came in.

When numbers increase as they have within the last week, their behavior changes dramatically. The arrival of Rufous hummingbirds together with increasing numbers of Anna’s has provoked fierce territorial behavior where one male perched atop a feeder monitors the sky for rivals and from which he runs off every other hummingbird that comes near.

Of course their rapid metabolism doesn’t provide for sustained territoriality, since sources say they’re perpetually just a few hours away from starvation. When finally the fierce protector tires and needs replenishment, all the other hummingbirds can jockey for one of the 3 other feeder ports and drink their fill.

Where we watch them from the other side of the glass, such territorial behavior is ridiculous. Daily we clean and fill the feeders when they draw down and the hummers have retired to their nests for the night. In the morning they’ll find clean feeders and fresh nectar in abundance.

Though we are separated only by a window, they seldom act like they see us. Instead, their behavior suggests they see only a reflection of themselves, for as often as one of them hovers inches from the window, it’s as if confronting their own image. But if we move at all, they react to our movement and reposition defensively or dart away. The same happens when Tigger jumps up to his perch to watch and chatter at the birds. They return quickly, as if Tigger disappeared – when in fact, he’s just motionless and they’ve lost sight of him.

Sometimes, their behavior is a delightful surprise, such as when my wife was watering the flowers and a hummingbird hovered nose to nose with her and stared for several seconds. They’ve done the same with me even when I’m in the garage putzing at the workbench. In those moments, we’ve wondered whether they’re guarding the nectar from the very ones who make it? Or do they just for a moment, pause in recognition of the ones who feed them? I can’t imagine it’s easy for a creature just 3” long to take in something the size of a man – while hovering there – nose to nose.

How could we, small as we are, ever take in the immensity of God, who is enthroned in the heavens and uses the earth as his footstool? There are times my response to the Father reminds me of the way a hummingbird responds to me when I watch from the other side of the window. Times when the Father is so quiet and still that I struggle to see or hear Him and turn to prayer, asking Him to move or speak that I might catch the slightest glimpse of Him.

Like it says in 1 Corinthians 13:12 : For we see now through a dim window obscurely, but then we will see face to face … (Darby)

Some translations say “mirror” rather than window or glass. Any of them are valid translations of the Greek. I can’t say which is best, but in observing the humming birds, an ordinary window can act like a mirror and show us a reflection of ourselves while obscuring what lies on the other side. That to me is a beautiful metaphor for the way the Father transforms us into the likeness of Christ. If I look with the flesh, I see a reflection of myself on the glass. But if I use spiritual eyes and look more deeply through the glass I might just catch a glimpse of what the Father is growing me into: the image of His Son.

Letting one of God’s most amazing creations teach me about His ways, I can’t help but imagine the great pleasure He takes in watching us discover Him while at the same time calling us to look deeper. How I look forward to the day when He throws open the ‘window’ that divides this life from the next, and finally we see Him face to face.

AND JUST FOR FUN: I crunched some numbers to compare a 3″ hummingbird with a 6′ tall man. If proportionately the man was as quick as a hummingbird, he’d run the 100 meter dash in a little over 1/4 second. He’d also drink 21 gallons of nectar and urinate 224 times a day.