The woods are full of mosquitoes and hummingbirds. The sound of the hummers' sweet chatter rains down on me from the treetops as I trudge along slapping away the bugs. I curse the little bloodsuckers, but try to think of them as nourishment for the dainty birds. Actually, the bloodsuckers make me nourishment for the dainty birds, which is a delightful notion...sort of.
Ruby-throated hummingbirds by Chester A. Reed, from The Bird Book, 1915.
3 comments:
Actually, I kind of like the turning inside out of the narcissistic theme that shadowed me as I came over here...
Nourishment. Indeed. :)
nourishment for my eyes this
Glad you like :-) Any sighting of a hummingbird is sustenance for the soul...
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