(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Caturday Pootie Diary: That hummingbird show [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.'] Date: 2023-08-26 “Whatcha doin’?” I asked, walking into the family room and noticing Freddie on his perch, staring intently out the window. A hummingbird buzzed by, its wings moving so fast they generated a sort of whistle. He head moved as he watched it go past. “They’re fighting,” he said, not looking away from the action. I walked up behind him so I could see. Two — no, three hummingbirds chased each other across the yard, somehow circling each other aggressively as they flew at roughly the speed of light. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I finally refilled the feeder.” A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦 Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul. Please do share pics of your fur kids! 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Or, paw "That makes them fight?” he wondered. “They’re territorial,” I explained, watching as one tried to drink from the feeder while the other two were distracted by each other. “Especially over food.” “Is there tuna in there?” he asked, looking at me with wide eyes. I shook my head. “Sugar water,” I explained. He frowned. “Sugar? Like sweet?” “Yeah. It mimics the nectar they get from flowers.” “But sweet is nothing,” he said, confused. I cocked my head, giving him a soft smile. “It’s only cats that don’t taste sweet. But you like some sweet things.” His frown turned thoughtful. “Cornbread,” I reminded him. He turned back to the window. “That’s not sweet,” he said, dismissively. “It is when I make it,” I assured him. “Can you tell what they are saying?” I asked, hearing the hummingbirds vocalize the little kissy noises they make at each other. He concentrated, his ears turned toward the window and the drama before us. “No,” he said finally. “They talk really fast. I can’t make it out.” “Too bad,” I said. “I bet they swear a lot.” They flew past the window again, hot on each other’s trails. “Definitely,” he agreed. I sat on the floor next to his perch so we could watch together. One hummingbird was stationed on the hanging planter next to the feeder. “I think that one’s in charge,” I said. A second bird approached the feeder from the other side, not seeing the one that was keeping watch. “Ooooh,” Freddie said, leaning closer to the glass. The bird perched on the planter flew at the other. They circled each other in an impressively tight loop and then flew off toward the back fence, yelling in their hummingbird language. “That was amazing,” I said. “It’s good tv,” Freddie added. “They should just share,” Freddie said. I shrugged. “There’s plenty of nectar and there are three spots on that feeder for them to share, but they are territorial.” I looked over at him. “Like you when another cat is in the back yard. “That’s not their yard!” he yelled. “That’s my yard!” “That’s how the hummingbirds feel about the feeder.” “Oh!” I said, excited. “There’s a fourth bird!” We watched as the small group fought its way across the yard. “It’s as mean as the others,” Freddie said, disapprovingly. “Hummingbirds are constantly on the verge of starvation,” I said, remembering something I had read when I had searched for the nectar recipe. “So they fight when there’s food.” “They should share,” he said again. I sighed. “I know. But they are pugnacious little creatures.” “I think they left,” I said. We hadn’t seen them in a while. “There’s one on the tree there,” Freddie said, indicating the tree in the yard behind us with a twitch of his head. I squinted. “Oh, yeah, I see it.” It was perched on a branch, watching the feeder. As if it had heard us, it suddenly flew across the yard to the window we were looking out of. It hovered, glaring at us through the glass. We each instinctively leaned back. “We don’t want your sugar water,” Freddie yelled. “Sugar water tastes like nothing and is not real food.” The hummingbird darted back and forth, making its little kissy noises at us. “Well!” Freddie said, startled and a little outraged. “I have never heard language like that!” I looked over at him quickly and then back at the bird. “What did it say?” “I can’t repeat that!” Freddie said, turning his outrage on me. “I’m a good kitty!” I chuckled, then quickly covered it with a cough. “You sure are.” The hummingbird, having told us off, flew away. Freddie shook his head. “You shouldn’t give them their nothing water,” he said. “Not if they act like that.” “I’ll still make it for them,” I said. “But they don’t get any treats.” I stood with a grunt, my knees and back cracking. “You want some treats?” He didn’t answer, just jumped off his perch and trotted to the bag. I laughed, following him. Happy Caturday, Peeps! It’s been, uh, months since I’ve filled the feeder and it only took them about five minutes to discover it was full again. They’ve been fighting in the air over my yard ever since. I’m sure everyone who has a feeder here knows this, but to make nectar: one part sugar, four parts water, bring to a boil for a minute, cool to room temp. 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