People who aren’t especially familiar with our local hummingbirds always sound surprised to learn what aggressive little monsters they can be. Birds are dinosaurs, after all.

Giant Andean condors are gentle as lambs compared to hummers, which have much more dinosaur-like personalities. One moment they’re sitting on a twig looking like expensive Christmas tree ornaments and the next they’re tearing through the air, apparently intent on pecking some other poor little bird’s eyes out for daring to approach the wrong feeder.

Pterodactyls (which weren’t dinosaurs, but why quibble?) don’t have anything on an angry hummingbird. They careen around cursing at about the speed of light, resembling the fighter spaceships on Star Wars, whirling through the cosmos trying to vaporize each other. It’s amazing they have any energy left to build their little nests and raise their tiny families. For that matter, it’s a wonder they manage to procreate at all, considering how much they all seem to hate each other.

Rufous hummingbirds are the most distinctive of the species we have in our area, radioactive-copper colored and with dispositions to match. All hummingbirds appreciate being fed, in their surly fashion, and now is a good time to hang feeders since the flowers they rely upon for nectar are still fairly scarce. They must be starving after migrating north across the broad Columbia.

One of my wife’s favorite shirts is the color of a faded hibiscus blossom, and while humans are far too big and slow to really register on a hummingbird’s consciousness, she excites attention when she wears this shirt. Even as she sits indoors, the hummers loiter near the window, licking their little chops at the sight of this Mother of All Flowers.

But then I’ve seen them hover outside windows for no obvious reason, seeming to thrust and parry like fencers. It took a while to realize they are fighting their own reflections in the window. “Who does that blankety-blank bird think he is, anyway, staring at me like that? I’ll show him! I have to admit that he’s a handsome fellow, though…”

What does all this have with the weekly news? Well, if you’re anything like me, the comings and goings of local wildlife are just as interesting as most of what we humans get up to. That’s why I search out items about our natural world for each edition of the Chinook Observer. We are so lucky to live here. The more we know about it, the more we’ll appreciate it.

When it comes to human news, we’ll have an update on our hot housing market, coverage of students riled up about covid masking rules, and much more. If you don’t yet subscribe, I wish you would. The Observer is a community project. We need you.