Monday, August 5, 2013

Costa’s hummingbird – the class clown



Checking out the dogs!
The Costa’s hummingbird is definitely the class clown at my feeder in Las Vegas. He not only owns my property – just ask him – he entertains me constantly. I guess that is enough payment to me for his taking over ownership. He is the tamest of hummingbirds. He doesn’t care if I open the sliding glass door while he is sitting at the feeder. The only thing that bothers him is the dogs. If my two dogs join me out on the patio he gets a little concerned. Otherwise he couldn’t care less if I am sitting six feet away; he’ll come visiting the feeder.
Visiting? No, claiming proprietorship. He happily chases all the other hummers away as soon as they attempt to get a sip. The only way they manage to sneak in is if he is off defending the feeder on the other side of the house.
Busy feeding with his gorget flaring out
He’ll sit at the feeder for 15 or 20 minutes or more. During that time he may preen himself or simply look around for possible claim
The contortions he has to go through to preen
jumpers. If I wonder which bird is at the feeder, I have only to wait for a minute. If it sits there without drinking for more than a minute it is probably the Costa’s.
In the morning when I am out watering the plants and taking care of the feeder I hear a distinct whistle. At first I didn’t have a clue where it was coming from or what was responsible for it. I tried to locate its source. It sounded like a hummer, but the only time I had heard anything similar was when I watched a male hummer displaying to a female sitting in the tree. He dove down in front of her and then came back up like a pendulum. In the process his wings made a whistling noise.  Because that was the only time I had ever heard anything similar, I walked around my yard watching for some type of display. All I saw was the black-chinned hummer sitting at the very top of the tallest cypress on my neighbor’s property catching flies. I knew that it wasn’t him. He was too busy fly catching to be whistling too.
The 'old man' with a handle bar mustache
After I heard the whistling for the first time, I kept hearing it every morning. Finally the source revealed itself. The Costa’s flew out of the Mock Orange bush that grows next to my patio to chase another hummer away, came back and perched on the feeder. Then he lifted his bill, arching his back in the process and let out his whistle. He was my whistler!
Later on I went online to the Cornell ornithological site. There I found a recording of the sound of the Costa’s. It was the same whistle I had been hearing for days.
My Costa’s will be leaving in a few weeks giving me back my property, but I will be lonely without my class clown to keep me entertained.

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