Search This Blog

Hummingbird Haven

A male Allen's Hummingbird perched on a red garden feeder in southern California, showing its iridescent copper-orange gorget glowing in the sunlight against a soft green background.
Allen's Hummingbird at the garden feeder. © John Corney

I've had hummingbird feeders in my garden in southern California for 15 years or more. No matter the season, I keep the feeders full. Anna's hummingbirds are our year-round residents, and in spring other varieties pass through on their northward migration — most spectacularly, the Allen's hummingbird.

I don't know whether it's the consistency of the feeders I've maintained over the years, or something unique about this particular spring, but this year the number of Allen's hummingbirds in my garden is at a record level. I'm filling the feeders at the rate of half a litre or more every day. Think about how many dips of those tiny tongues it takes to get through that amount of nectar.

Close portrait of a male Anna's Hummingbird perched on a tree branch, showing the full iridescent magenta and gold gorget that gives the species its distinctive look. Stylized painterly finish.
A male Anna's Hummingbird at rest, magenta gorget on full display. © John Corney, 2009

The Dog Fights and the Truce

Hummingbirds are famously territorial. Whatever the variety, they all put on a spectacular show fighting over the feeders — darting, chittering, locking into aerial dog fights, jockeying for ownership of a single port. The "ownership" turns over constantly; whoever is closest and quickest wins until the next challenger arrives.

The busiest times are first thing in the morning and the half-hour between sunset and dark, when the birds are tanking up on reserves before the cold night ahead. At dusk, something remarkable happens. Their desperation to build energy finally overcomes their territoriality, and you can watch multiple birds drinking peacefully from the same feeder at the same time. Hallelujah — peace on earth, if only briefly.

A male Anna's Hummingbird perched at a red garden feeder in southern California, displaying its bright magenta-pink gorget and crown in full iridescent splendour.
An Anna's male holding court at the feeder. © John Corney

Beyond the Feeder

It's worth saying that feeders aren't the whole story. Hummingbirds are nectar specialists, and they'll happily switch from sugar water to the real thing when the right flowers are in bloom. In southern California, aloes flower through the cooler months and are an absolute magnet — the long tubular blooms might as well have been designed by a hummingbird committee. I've watched Anna's spend whole mornings working an aloe stalk, ignoring the feeder entirely.

An Anna's Hummingbird feeding mid-flight at a tall aloe inflorescence, wings caught in motion, its green iridescent body glowing against the warm red and yellow tubular blooms.
Anna's Hummingbird working an aloe inflorescence in the garden. © John Corney, 2012

If you have space to plant for them as well as feed them, native and drought-tolerant plants like aloes, salvias, penstemon, fuchsias, and California native sages will pull in hummingbirds in numbers that no feeder alone can match. The feeders are most valuable as a reliable backup — and as a way to keep the birds visiting at close range, where you can actually watch them.

Making Your Own Nectar

If you live in an area where there are hummingbirds and you want to put out your own feeders, don't waste money on the expensive commercial nectar you see at stores. The recipe is genuinely simple:

  • 1 cup of plain white sugar
  • 4 cups of water
  • Mix until the sugar is dissolved

That's it. No red food colouring — the red plastic on the feeder is plenty of attraction, and the dye is unnecessary at best and unhelpful at worst. If you haven't had feeders out before, it may

Hummingbirds in Motion

Photographs can capture the colour, but they can't quite capture the energy of a feeder in full swing. Here's a short video I shot of the activity in the garden:

Comments

Samoan Youth

This young man was preparing with his friends for his moment of fame on the stage at the Samoan Village at the Polynesian dance festival called Pasifika in Auckland in March this year. Samoan Youth Canon EOS 20D 1/30sec at f/20 ISO 200 Canon 70-300mm lens at 300mm More photographs from the same Pasifika Festival day can be found in my new post, Faces of Pasifika 2007 — A Day at Auckland's Pacific Festival .

Faces of Pasifika 2007 — A Day at Auckland's Pacific Festival

The 15th anniversary Pasifika Festival poster — a collage of the Pacific cultures the festival celebrates. On Saturday 10 March 2007, I spent the day at the Pasifika Festival at Western Springs Park in Auckland. It was the festival's 15th year — an annual celebration of Pacific Island cultures that has been part of Auckland's calendar since 1993, and which typically draws crowds of well over 100,000 across the day. Nine Pacific villages are traditionally represented — Samoa, Tonga, the Cook Islands, Niue, Fiji, Tuvalu, Tokelau, Kiribati and Tahiti — with music, dance, food, arts, and craft from each community sharing the same park for the day. I usually visit New Zealand earlier in February, but in 2007 I was there in March and it was the first — and, to date, only — time I've been able to attend Pasifika. I hope to make it back one of these years. But I came away from that single visit with the str...

The Watchman and Virgin River — Painterly Winter Landscape

The Watchman and Virgin River, Zion National Park — Painterly Winter Landscape — © John Corney The Watchman is one of Zion National Park's most recognizable formations — the peak that rises up just past the south entrance, often photographed reflected in or framed by the Virgin River as it winds through the valley floor. I photographed this view on the same January 2006 trip as the other winter Zion piece in this collection, with the river running low and the cottonwoods and willows along the bank stripped bare for the season. I worked this one up with AI assistance into a full painterly interpretation, the same way I've approached the rest of this Zion series — directing the process the way a film director works with a cinematographer, choosing what to carry forward from the original photograph and what to push harder. Here that meant leaning into the warmth of the low winter light against the cool snow on the upper ridgeline, and letting th...