The unremarkable sound solicited a disinterested glance out the window. When Melody’s gaze landed on the empty patio set, her daze while unloading the dishwasher held. Until she heard it again. It was a thud, soft and muffled. It sounded like one of the black aluminum chairs bumping the wood planks of the deck as it shifted beneath an occupant’s weight. 

This time, the sound snagged her attention. Calling her again to the window, where within her view of the vacant outdoor dining set was a flash of something. 

Brilliant green streaked by. What was that? An enormous bug of some sort? Were dragonflies green?

Melody thought of bright summer days lounging on the dock as kids. The lull of the sparkling waves, sleepy with boredom, conjured the memory of flitting blue dragonflies. She supposed they could be green. 

Then, she reconsidered. Decidedly, it was not a dragonfly that hit the window for the clash of effervescent wings against glass would be a messy collision. A thwapping buzz, unlike what she heard. 

Another splash of green zipped from behind the hummingbird feeder. Then, vanished again. It hadn’t been bigger than her thumb, with wings a blur, beating at an impossible rate. Such a beautiful marvel. Tiny and powerful, moving too quickly for the eye to see.

But where had the thud come from? Another flurry of fluttering wings jetted from above and, to her astonishment, smacked directly into the other hummingbird. Shocked by the aggression and deliberate violence, Melody reasoned this to be a display of male birds posturing. A miniature rallying of competition over a mate. The attack was swift. After blitzing the bird hovering at the feeder, the offender returned in the direction from which it came. 

How could something so small, harbor such tremendous zeal and moxie? Imagine the size of its heart, so delicate yet fierce and determined.

Curious, Melody closed the dishwasher and moved to the sink to better her view. Just beyond the window’s frame, on the clothesline that stretched the entire length of the backyard, perched the other bird. A sagging blue cable doubling back onto itself, held and now still humming bird. 

Again, the tiny aviator with the higher advantage point, bomb dived the other. Despite effort and injury, the one at the feeder refused to falter. The entire scene was in view and she questioned: if this was over a female, shouldn’t she be close by?

There were four yellow flowers skirting the humming bird feeder. A strawberry shaped container with clear liquid offered waxy plastic flowers to surrounding hummingbirds. This endless supply of nectar dangled there, shielded from the wind in the alcove of her country home that backed onto rolling hills of farmer’s fields edged with an overgrowth of wild flowers. Purple, blue, and pink dotted the wide strips of tall grass that followed the fence line into the horizon. At the far end of their property, Melody’s mother fussed over a large manicured garden of irises, begonias, and rose bushes. The means of nectar in the vicinity was limitless, yet one humming bird flitted around the feeder as if guarding it. Protecting the open flower stalls like one would preserve a row of seats in the movie theater as they waited for their friends to arrive or return from the concession stand. This panicked frenzy to hoard the plastic flowers in an effort to squeeze out the other bird made it clear to Melody that these humming birds were female. Most likely related. 

This pointless and petty fight was nothing but a display of cruel, catty, stubborn behaviour. It was clear. These birds were no doubt sisters. Senselessly unwilling to share a manufactured treasure.