Barbecues, parades and fireworks are the quintessential elements of Fourth of July celebrations across the United States. Unfortunately COVID-19 put a damper on the festivities in many communities this year, including in Prescott, Arizona, my summer home. But an especially colorful sign of the holiday was on display: the rufous hummingbird.
I can't be exactly sure when these migratory birds first appeared in Yavapai County, but I do know that there were some reports of their appearances in the Flagstaff area at the end of June. So I wasn't surprised when I caught my first glimpse of the rufous hummingbird in my tree-filled yard over the holiday weekend.
It was at the nectar feeder outside my living room window where I first saw the mature male. His attempts at stealing some drinks were rebuffed by a resident male Anna's who had claimed the feeder in the spring shortly after I filled it. Two years ago a rufous actually won the dogfights that accompany these noisy territorial wars, controlling access to the sugar water for the several weeks he stopped over during his migration south.
Rufous hummingbirds migrate north from Mexico in the spring, following a mostly coastal route to the Pacific Northwest. Some birds even travel as far as southeast Alaska to mate and nest. His work accomplished, the male of the species starts his migration home through the Rocky Mountain states shortly after, leaving the female to rear the young on her own. It's these absentee fathers I've started seeing in Prescott.
Last year the rufouses that fought for my cabin's feeder lost the war to an especially tough Anna's and moved on to easier grazing elsewhere in the neighborhood. I was disappointed to miss the chance to photograph these fellas and their striking beauty. Like most migratory birds, they're quite wary of people so when you first see them it's typically in quick flashes of orange from their brightly-colored heads and backs. If you're close enough to see one park himself for a moment, you might get a glimpse of his ruby-red gorget.
I didn't want to miss this summer's photo ops so when the first male seemed to be losing out to my resident Anna's I quickly sprung into action, placing a second feeder at the other end of my cabin's deck. (What birder doesn't have a spare hummingbird feeder on hand?) With a reliable food source in a newly carved-out territory, it didn't take long for a mature rufous to take charge.
Immature and female Anna's hummingbirds made frequent forays to the conquered feeder, but their attempts were mostly repelled by the especially feisty rufous. He's smaller than the local residents but he's tenacious; not surprising for a bird that travels hundreds of miles or more between homes. He might stay weeks or a whole month, and others - including possibly his recent offspring - will pass through later in the summer. But by September, it'll take a trip south of the border to Mexico to see these pretty hummers.
I can't be exactly sure when these migratory birds first appeared in Yavapai County, but I do know that there were some reports of their appearances in the Flagstaff area at the end of June. So I wasn't surprised when I caught my first glimpse of the rufous hummingbird in my tree-filled yard over the holiday weekend.
It was at the nectar feeder outside my living room window where I first saw the mature male. His attempts at stealing some drinks were rebuffed by a resident male Anna's who had claimed the feeder in the spring shortly after I filled it. Two years ago a rufous actually won the dogfights that accompany these noisy territorial wars, controlling access to the sugar water for the several weeks he stopped over during his migration south.
Rufous hummingbirds migrate north from Mexico in the spring, following a mostly coastal route to the Pacific Northwest. Some birds even travel as far as southeast Alaska to mate and nest. His work accomplished, the male of the species starts his migration home through the Rocky Mountain states shortly after, leaving the female to rear the young on her own. It's these absentee fathers I've started seeing in Prescott.
Last year the rufouses that fought for my cabin's feeder lost the war to an especially tough Anna's and moved on to easier grazing elsewhere in the neighborhood. I was disappointed to miss the chance to photograph these fellas and their striking beauty. Like most migratory birds, they're quite wary of people so when you first see them it's typically in quick flashes of orange from their brightly-colored heads and backs. If you're close enough to see one park himself for a moment, you might get a glimpse of his ruby-red gorget.
I didn't want to miss this summer's photo ops so when the first male seemed to be losing out to my resident Anna's I quickly sprung into action, placing a second feeder at the other end of my cabin's deck. (What birder doesn't have a spare hummingbird feeder on hand?) With a reliable food source in a newly carved-out territory, it didn't take long for a mature rufous to take charge.
Immature and female Anna's hummingbirds made frequent forays to the conquered feeder, but their attempts were mostly repelled by the especially feisty rufous. He's smaller than the local residents but he's tenacious; not surprising for a bird that travels hundreds of miles or more between homes. He might stay weeks or a whole month, and others - including possibly his recent offspring - will pass through later in the summer. But by September, it'll take a trip south of the border to Mexico to see these pretty hummers.
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| Male rufous hummingbird in Prescott. |
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| Male rufous hummingbird in Prescott. His orange coloring is on display but his red gorget isn't showing its iridescence from this angle. |
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| Male rufous hummingbird at my Prescott feeder. |
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| Male rufous hummingbird in Prescott. |
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| Male rufous hummingbird in Prescott. |
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| Male rufous hummingbird hidden in the branches of a scrub oak tree in my Prescott yard. |
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