The First Twitter

Before twitter.com there was the first, the truest, the most natural twitter. It was issued by ruby-throated hummingbirds as they soared toward their feeders.

Frances and I are inundated by this twitter-mania everyday. As young’uns ready themselves for their southern migration (they vacate our yard shortly after Labor Day) they engage in nearly continuous battles for food. The ravine on the south side of our house brims with jewel weed, a hummingbird favorite. But it’s the hummingbird feeder outside our patio door that attracts the most rambunctious crowd.

Currently four to six birds share this feeder. It’s dominated by one male. He perches on a dead branch conveniently close to the food source. As other hummers swoop near, he dives toward the feeder with a rush of twittering. Though his “words” are hard to interpret, his intent is not. I imagine his message as follows: “Hey, dude. Get out!” “U move it!” “Ur out of ur area little miss.” “Are U lost? This is mine. Mine! MINE!”

The other bird swoops, chattering, away. Then our dominant male perches on the metal curlicue above the feeder and twitters on: “Stay away!” “Beat it!” “Get a clue, sweet♥s.” “This is MY breakfast,lunch,dinner,snack,snack,snack!” “2 bad for u.”

Of course, he’s not the only one given to self-expression. Other hummingbirds seated on nearby branches, perched atop fragile flowers, or hovering mid-air argue back: “You’ll get yours, buster.” “LOL, man.” “Oh yeah? U wait!”

Not a tweeter or twitterer myself, I listen with interest to the challenges and short bursts of conversation that surround me. Then there’s a brief pause. A welcome silence. Suddenly the dive-bombing reconvenes … along with the twittering. The hummer who stays behind twitters. The hummer who flies away twitters. They both twitter mid-flight as they careen past our observation posts, two lawn chairs positioned on the deck slightly below and to the side of the aforementioned battleground.

You may accuse me of anthropomorphizing the interactions of my tiny friends. It doesn't matter. I enjoy these birdie twitters. These excited bursts of conversation will soon, all too soon, be gone for another year. And, truth be told, human tweets--140 characters or less--don't undo me like the twitters of my feathered friends! I think it's the tone of voice, rather than the words, that makes all the difference!