The boss...

I have tried, tried, and tried some more to get a picture of a particular hummingbird I've taken to calling Boss Hummingbird. He's more than earned his title - a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that a rather stout, bright green hummingbird was chasing any and all others away from the feeder. Then he got after Totsi the Dog. Shortly thereafter, he flew around me to make sure I wasn't after a single drop of what is, by gods, HIS nectar.

Should you set foot on our deck, he's there. Should you stand at the back door, he'll be there shortly. He damned well wants you to know he's around, and once he's finished flying about and scoping you out, he will perch in a tree and *watch*.

He patrols the area around the feeder, flying from vantage point to vantage point all the live long day. If it is empty, he leaves for a bit - but comes back and continues patrolling. Somehow, he knows when the feeder is being refilled - - I've never been buzzed while doing that. He is a complete badass, and he rules. I kind of like that Casa Didgeridoo has acquired a watch hummingbird.

Today he zipped up and pecked Didgeridoo Boy on the back of the head. I don't know what Didge did other than stand too close to the feeder for Boss Hummingbird's liking, but he came running in from the deck, shouting things about being hit on the head by a little f***ing bird. I asked if it was a hummingbird, and he said, "Yes. It's that same damned one that's always out there. That HURT! Am I bleeding? Look. Am I??" He rubbed the back of his head furiously and checked his hand, then stomped off to the kitchen. "I'm gonna hit him with a BOOK. Where's the damned spray paint? I'm going to get that little f***er."

I assured him he would leave Boss Hummingbird alone. "You were on his turf.", I explained. "That's his feeder on his territory." Didge disagreed: "That's MY smoking area! F*** that damned bird! I'm going to deep fry his ass. Where's Jupiter? Uh-huh. Jupiter's going to get a snack!" We had a bit of a shouting match for a bit while I convinced Didge that he is, under no circumstances, to kill that bird.

So right now, we're in standoff mode on two fronts. The first is between Didge and me over whether or not he is going to launch any kind of retaliation (he's not), and the second between two highly territorial males over who controls a patch of the deck. It really doesn't get any better than this, does it?

Enjoy your weekend, and have a little music.