HUMMER BUMMER

I'm dismayed at myself to see it has been a week since my last post. I have no good excuse except to say between the long holiday weekend, spending time with family, cookouts and photo ambles, an extra day off for Myladylove on Tuesday, columns to get out, plus appointments to doctors, the dentist and optometrist—not to mention yard chores and shopping and all the rest of the drattedly necessary time-consuming stuff which eats up so much of your life—I haven't had much opportunity to daydream, laze about with a good book, go fishing…or blog.

Toward that end—making a pix for a blog post—I did spend a bit of time on the deck this morning in my favorite rocking chair, ostensibly attempting to photograph the ruby-throated hummingbirds busily working the nearby nectar feeders. However, capturing good hummer images proved pretty much a bust because I'm seriously under-lensed for the situation at hand. Plus the feeders were in deep shade during the time, making for low light and the need to crank up the ISO beyond what I consider the optimum range for quality images.

Not that I much like feeder shots, anyway. My ideal goal was photos of these tiny feathered jewels in a more natural setting—hovering in midair or perched on a handy hackberry twig. The problem with successfully managing this latter objective is that you have to pay attention, keeping your eyes and mind focused, always watching and looking among the interlaced branches overhead for movement, a glimmer of iridescent green…and, of course, being ready to get the shot before the hummingbird zips away. In other words, you have to be keenly alert and primed for quick action.

That, I admit, was the real stumbling block for me on this particular day—the lack of ability to muster any prolonged stretch of paying attention. I'd settle down and hunker in, trying to keep a watchful eye in the foliage for hummer activity…but moments later find myself gazing at the river, my mind floating about like a loose fishing bobber. Then I'd look around just as one of the bright little birds, having sipped its fill, zoomed away.

With luck, this case of galloping ennui and muddled brain-function will be cured by a good night's sleep.

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