Natives know it well and transplants learn it quickly. Whitetail deer are our neighbors and we’d best learn how to live together or suffer dire consequences. We drive defensively to avoid the sudden meeting of metal and beast that ends with a walk down the sorry trail of auto collision repair if not personal injury. We plant species distasteful to deer palates or fence them from their reach. For their part wise deer maintain the look and behavior cherished by our greeting cards and ceramic ware, stroll warily of an evening when in harm’s way marked by tire noise and bright lights, and heed maturity’s warning against trusting the scuttlebutt about the beneficence of humans.

The lessons of the hummingbirds of the Hudson Valley wax more elusive than the deer. Translation: Compared to deer, we know precious little about them. After all, they’re small and relatively quiet and taken for granted unless you commit yourself to some intense study of them in lab or field. As pollinators, their work usually goes unnoticed. The hummingbird breaks into human consciousness only when the cost of our purchase of favorite strawberries or sweet corn spikes.

A few years ago, the kitchen window and the back deck below it offered to host a hummingbird feeder for the enjoyment of our family. I was appointed “Feeder Felicitator.” I share with you my surmisings. Note that they spring from the mind of one “colleged” in the humanities, not the sciences.

#1. If you’re going to flap your wings fast enough to hover, and even fly backward, you’d best have a ready supply of nectar. Sufficient fuel for the journey prevents chaos. Without it, relationships and your own humanity are jeopardized. Also, learn always to keep a branch in sight so you might relax awhile from intense cardio activity.

#2. Share the nectar or you’ll be sorry. Hummingbirds prefer the easy sugar water nectar to the blooms 10 feet from the feeder. There is ample aggression near the feeder but none around the flower boxes. The fight for dominance at the feeder ends in resentment, animosity and injury. The nectar that drips to the deck surface is little noticed by the birds but welcomed with joy by the ants who are sure they died and went to heaven the nectar-fall is so great. Sharing makes everyone happy.

#3. Don’t tick off the nectar provider. This is a recast of the old proverb, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” During high feeding times of day, hummingbirds will protect their nectar source by diving and buzzing offenders at their human putterings be they nectar provider or not. Even in my waning years, I’m sure I could hold my own in fisticuffs with a bird weighing 3 grams. After all, I built the house and deck, provided the feeder, tend the nectar needs and clean up any messes those activities present. So I ask, “Who’s in charge here?” Even if the provider turns out to exhibit prodigal forgiveness, common decency and gratitude would be in order.

#4. Hummingbirds present in wild varieties of colors and plumage but they all sip the same nectar. Their differences are real, but at the nectar they are the same. So…difference is artistry to enjoy and celebrate, not traits upon which to hang “bad,” “better,” or “best” evaluations.

#5. Nectar is not the goal, but fuel to reach the goal. Nectar makes full living possible. It also drives the most important of deeds: migration to Florida to escape the demonic cold. The brain of a slug might think that the hummingbird’s whole life is the feeder over the deck. My brain knows that hummingbirds’ spring and summer visits are temporary. The bulk of their living includes responsibilities for territory, courting, birthing, feeding, pollinating, parenting, migrating and enjoying some leisure (I hope) all of which elude my awareness most of the time and raise the Body Mass Index of my ignorance.

My time with hummingbirds ceased when a pulmonologist warned that ailing human lungs are compromised by the dust and mites scattered by these birds. Yet my appreciation of the specie remains. Their size belies their contribution to creation. They are mysterious and wonderful and I join the Creator in proclaiming, “They are good!” For surely they can teach us much that we might learn about ourselves, if we’re cooperative.