A humming bird couple has over the last week built a nest outside of our kitchen window. In between building sessions they seem to be dancing, macking, or communicating to each other in a manner that mimics what I imagine Helen Keller to have done with her hands.
A humming bird nest is small.
These humming birds have brought joy to my kitchen time, so I decided to buy them a feeder and some other humming bird gear. As it turns out, there isn't any other humming bird gear, so I bought them two feeders. Now they both get their own.
The first trip to the hardware store did not produce humming bird feeders, but I did pick-up potting material to re-pot all of our indoor plants, and I got some new lighting fixtures so my friends Rachael and Robert will stop complaining about our lighting, which I admit was horrible and is now rapidly improving. I didn't realize that I forgot what I originally set out for until I returned home and saw the humming birds outside. It is not surprising that I forgot. I often arrive places and forget why I am there, and then just wonder around to see what happens.
It was too late to go back to Home Depot, and I now needed to get into some re-potting and light experiments.
I went to Laurel Hardware this afternoon. I like Laurel Hardware. It's like one of those old school hardware stores from the 80's, before we came up with the idea of super-hardware stores. Laurel is cute, small, strangely stocked, and hosts clerks that have worked there since it opened in the 60's.
Humming bird feeders were in the back. As I mentioned, I bought two, and they both look like strawberries. There was one that looked like a rocket ship and another that looked like a hot air balloon (These were the Art Stylish models. Begging to differ.). Between the rocket ship, hot air balloon, and strawberries, the strawberries were the obvious choice.
"Hey, do you guys have humming bird food too?" I asked the ancient clerk (think knight from India Jones and The Last Crusade), Terry.
"Nope, all out."
"What am I suppose to feed them? All of the Helen Keller action has to have made them hungry."
"Helen Keller? Never mind. Strawberry Soda. It's great. They love it."
"Strawberry Soda? No shit?"
"Yeah, they love it."
"Lindsey loves blow and Xanax, but that doesn't mean it's good for her."
"Who's Lindsey? Never mind. It's about the glucose. Soda has great glucose. And they like the strawberry flavor."
"That doesn't seem healthy. What about maple syrup?"
"Nope. That will straight kill them."
"Too acidic. Strawberry Soda,"
"Look, Strawberry Soda has only existed for 80 years max. That doesn't seem biologically sound. What did they eat before that?"
"Flower nectar like they do in the wild."
"Do you guys sell that?"
"No. You can't buy that. That's what they eat in the wild."
"Oh. Strawberry soda, huh?"
It seemed strange. Perhaps this was because the clerk was 70 and had no teeth? Strawberry soda seemed off. I decided to give it a try anyway. What the hell, right? But between Laurel Hardware and home, I forgot to stop and get it. Again, not surprising. I decided to make my own glucose mixture with 1 part raw sugar and 4 parts water, like it said to online.
I just hung them up outside, with the two upstairs, young, twenty-something, gay neighbors watching.
"What are you going to feed them?" one asked.
"This is a mixture of water and sugar. Apparently, though, it's all about strawberry soda."
"Strawberry soda? No shit?"
"That's what I said. Terry assured me it was the way to go."
"Well why didn't you get that?"
"I love this shit. You're all spiritual and shit, and into mother nature. Taking care of the wild life and the like. Bring the animal friends to our building. Awesome!"
"Are you stoned?"
"Yeah, totally. Going to work."
"Awesome. Have fun."
"You too. Have fun."
Indeed, have fun.