Do you know how hard it is to stay in a "blah" mood, when you've got a tiny hummingbird perching on your finger? For me, the answer is "impossible".
I may be fighting a losing battle with the flu, and feeling the worst, physically, that I have since starting on the Savella (bad enough that I canceled my chiropractor's appointment today, as I didn't feel up to driving, nor did I want to give them whatever it is that I have). I may want to just crawl under the covers and sleep for a week or two. I may even feel bad enough to go to bed right after dinner, instead of my normal midnight-ish.
I just can't be too grumbly about how I feel, though, due to thumb-sized little bundles of jewel-bright feathers.
It has been cool enough now, that the hummingbird population in the area is lessened. Many of the birds have headed down to Mexico for a couple months of warmer weather, and after the temperatures on waking up a couple different m*rnings, no matter how warm it got later in the day, I can't say as I blame them!
"Lessened" however, is a relative term, and there were a dozen birds visible, and more that were audible, when I shambled out to refill the feeders just now. Although it means extra walking, when they're in that sort of a feeding frenzy, I bring the feeders in one-by-one, placing a filled one out before grabbing another of the three feeders to refill. It is a bit more reassuring to the territorial little flitterbidgets when all of the feeders don't disappear at once.
When I brought the third feeder back out, some of the little birds did not fly away as I approached, but perched at the other two feeders an arm's-length away, pigging out. This made it the perfect time to play human statue and see if I could get one to land on my finger.
The answer was a resounding yes, within about 15 seconds of me placing my finger in front of a feeding port on the nearest feeder. It wasn't that the other ports were all busy (they weren't), or that they'd been totally out of food and starving (one of the feeders still had nectar in it that I dumped out and replaced when I refilled the feeders), it was simply that he wanted to be at that specific spot.
He was glorious. A lovely metallic green back and wings, a cap and throat that looked black from some angles, and an absolutely gorgeous metallic fuschia from other angles. Bold as can be, perched on my finger while chugging away at the nectar.
He was soon replaced by a dainty little green female, then another male with the patchier neck plumage of a young adult.
I likely could have had more land, had my body been able to cope with standing statue-still for much longer, but even those brief little visitations were enough to brighten my mood.