Before I go back in time to show you the progression, first: today’s view of the nest. May 5. Click to enlarge.

Let me just start out by saying, sheesh. As truly wonderful as it has been to witness the evolution of eggs to miraculous tiny birds, I’ve been a bit of a basket case. (Scroll to the bottom of my first post to see the eggs being laid on April 3 and April 5)

At first, I was sure Egg No. 1 wasn’t going to hatch at all, since Egg No. 2 took the lead and busted loose first on April 19 (In the past, we’ve had luck with only one egg hatching, so I figured this was the case again).

Even so, I enjoyed the early videos of mama feeding this miniscule creature (when they hatch, they are bigger than a Tic-Tac but smaller than a Jelly Belly):

So imagine my surprise, when, on April 21, two days after the first egg hatched, I saw this:

I missed the first hatching, but actually caught this one in progress. Earlier in the day, I told hubby I thought I’d seen a crack in the shell (I figured this was wishful thinking, but I was right!). Click to enlarge.

This video captures the second baby trying to rid itself of the shell on its head and rear.

I was delighted by the second arrival, but the next day saw that it was trapped under the much larger sibling. For 45 minutes, I watched (in agony) as it struggled, kicking its eensy-weensy feet to free itself, but to no avail. By the time mama came to feed each time (when the larger would lift its head, finally freeing the smaller baby), it was too exhausted to attempt eating.

Can you see how much smaller the new baby is? And I swear its neck looks bent unnaturally (The neck was pinned under big sib). Click to enlarge.

But at long last, I witnessed mama feeding the tiny babe (after big sib):

Yay! Crisis averted. Right?

Not so fast. A few days later, mama disappeared amidst some 30 MPH winds. For four hours. This is unnatural, since the babies need her to help regulate their body temperature and need near-constant feeding. Alas, though, mama returned home around 4 p.m., and the babies were fine. (I don’t know if she was blown away and had to find her way home? I can think of no other explanation.) Another crisis averted.

Until April 24…I just happened to check the camera and saw this giant fly inching closer and closer to the nest.

For anyone wondering just how small baby hummingbirds are, this should provide some perspective. This fly reminds me (in size) of the horseflies of my youth in PA. Click to enlarge.

Not knowing what the giant fly was capable of (given it was two to three times larger than the babies), I ran outside and shooed it away. I later learned, from the wonderful local Arizona biologist, artist and blogger Margarethe Brummermann, Ph.D. that the Mexican Cactus Fly (Copestylum mexicanum) is a nectar forager and not harmful at all. Phew.

Finally relaxed, I began to monitor – and be amazed – by how quickly the nest filled up with growing baby bodies. Though I confess, I still worried about Munchkin, always the second to be fed, always smaller, always trying to ‘catch up.’

This night-cam photo on April 25 shows how featherless these little guys are, and how large and bulging their eyes are. Can you believe how much they’ve filled up the nest in a few short days? Click to enlarge.

This is the first hatchling, whom I started to call Big Mouth, because mama always went to its giant beak first. April 28. Click to enlarge.

This is the runt, whom I began to refer to as “Munchkin,” feeding. Can you tell the difference in size? April 28.

Of course my Nervous Nellie tendencies picked back up, right in sync with the strong wind gusts that returned days later (The babies are above a concrete floor. Eeks!) And I can’t begin to tell you how unnerving it is to see them push their feet around in the nest, the sides of the cylindrical construction expanding and morphing with their movements. This is a marvel of engineering; the nests are built with spider webs that allow for expansion (and “breathing”) as the babies move and grow.

Take a look at their early movements below. I think I captured the first faux flying-test by Big Mouth:

And, minutes later, Munchkin proves that he’s still quite the fighter, determined to catch up.

For Readers, for Writers: I think, as writers, its easy for us to become anxious about our progress and to compare ourselves and our journeys to other writers. Those of us who came to fiction later in life may feel we’re “catching up” to those younger writers who realized, early on, their fiction dreams. Or we may see other writers achieving success – signing contracts, selling books, advancing their careers – with greater speed. But I wonder … does it really matter? Does it matter who got there first? Do you really need to worry about catching up? We all work at our own pace, don’t we? And don’t things just sometimes have a way of working out when and how they should?

Consider Munchkin: Though he is still lagging behind in size, it looks as though he is going to make it. Maybe he’ll be that infamous underdog we love to root for in the books we read – the one who kept fighting and grew to be a successful young hummingbird, despite the odds.

Help Me Name the Babies

I’m not sure my nicknames are appropriate for this dynamic hummingbird duo. Help me choose official names:

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

P.S. 1 If you read my last post about the bees: sadly, they left Ray’s bee boxes after one night, apparently driven out by the territorial local colonies.

P.S.2 Edit Palooza is ‘officially’ complete – well, this go-round, at least!

The camera that hubs set up has allowed me to peek right in the nest, using a fun little app on the iPhone. You can imagine my surprise when checking in on Humma Mumma, and I saw this on the other bird cam.

Inside the kestrel box. Click to enlarge.

Yep. Bees. Of the Africanized variety. Without our consent or nary a reservation, our kestrel box became a Bee Motel.

So many bees! Our Bee Motel needed a “No Vacancy” sign. Click to enlarge.

Within thirty minutes, this is the photo we got inside the Kestrel bee box:

Yes. Darkness. Total ... Because that box was filled with bees and, we later learned, honeycomb right over the camera lens.

When morning came, we saw this:

Jam-packed with bees. Nearly everyone inside now. Click to enlarge.

What to do? This might be a no-brainer to some, who might quickly conclude: exterminate them. But my science-writing background and nature-lovin’ ways have made me aware of just how important bees are to the ecosystem – even these Africanized hybrids that wipe out indigenous honeybees. I once wrote a story for Arizona Monthly about the craziest, most fascinating bee guy. (He removed about 50,000 Africanized bees from our property when we first purchased it. And yes, he did provoke a bee to sting him; he did eat one; and he did chomp on a piece of dirty honeycomb then excitedly searched for a rattler. “I heard a rattler out here. Mind if I look for him?” You know you want to read the story now, don’t you?)

I digress… that’s a different story. So, back to this one: I obviously experienced more than a tinge of guilt at the thought of destroying them (the solution offered by pest control companies). They’re pollinators and we need them. And could I fault these honey-makers for taking up residence? They simply found the best “house” they could… one that we’d inadvertently made available to them.

Enter the solution: “Honey Bear” Ray, who was ecstatic to take a swarm of bees home for his new avocation: beekeeping. (Thanks to neighbors Mark, Roxanne, Mel and Nan for hooking us up).

Ray in his new suit, only a week old. See the kestrel box – I mean, bee motel – in the background on the telephone pole? Click to enlarge.

Maybe it's just me, but this would be my least favorite scenario: wobbly ladder, bees in my face. Click to enlarge.

Emptying the bees from the removed kestrel box into his bee box (their new home). Look – in one day – they created the honeycomb attached to the camera. See them on Ray’s suit?

I’m happy to report that everything ended well. Ray came back for his bee box under the cover of darkness (when the bees had settled and all of the colony was inside). He enjoyed the experience so much – and the bees behaved so well – he asked if we’d put the kestrel box back up, in the hopes of attracting another swarm. Um. I’m not so sure about that.

I will forever be amazed by the geometrical precision of nature. Look at this one-day-old honeycomb. Click to enlarge.

For Writers, for Readers: Yes, there’s a writing lesson here! Over the past two days, it became apparent to me that I had two distinct plotlines running at once: 1) the bees themselves and the formulation of a game plan for their relocation; and 2) the activity at the hummingbird nest that prompted the bee discovery in the first place. Yes, one of our baby hummers made its way out of the shell on April 19! But that, too, is another story, one to be continued … (There just may be some fabulous one-day-old baby videos in a future blog post!)

What do you think about concurrent plot lines in the books you read or write? Do you like a subplot that is nearly as consuming as a plot? What books have you read lately that drew you in with their complex multi-plots? Or do you think too many storylines can get too confusing?

Even so, I thought I’d sneak in another photo journal of a few backyard sightings – in my real backyard (or should I say, breezeway), and the Arizona desert that is my backyard.

A mid-week, 8-mile hike in Aravaipa Canyon was just the editing break I needed (Loved seeing a black phoebe, who flew in front of us along the creek. Had never seen one before! And, yes, that is a cardinal in the desert.) Click to enlarge photos below, and tab through:

And look what’s happening under the breezeway! This year, we have a new Hummie Cam that allows us to take photos and video with the touch of a button to our iPhones!

We noticed some building going on two weeks ago (with mama testing various nesting spots along the string). New nest is above old, damaged nest. Click to enlarge.

On Wednesday, April 3, mama had laid an egg. Click to enlarge.

On Friday, April 5, mama had laid another egg. Click to enlarge.

Here's mama tending to her nest, two little eggs beneath her. Hatching should occur around April 19 or 20. Click to enlarge.

Check out HummieCam: photos refresh every 30 seconds. You just might see mama on her nest!

What spring sightings have you seen?

Enjoy these views from our 4WD venture (with Betty) in the Box Canyon area of the Sonoran desert. (And don’t forget to click the first photo to enlarge, then tab through. It’s the only way you’ll see just how green Arizona is this time of year).

To see further evidence of my bird obsession, read my recent guest post with Christy Peterson, over at Tweets & Tree Frogs. She asked me to share a bird common to southern Arizona’s backyards, and I chose another of my favorites: the comical cactus wren. Christy’s delightful blog explores backyard wildlife, outdoor excursions and sightings, and kid-friendly outdoor activities. Thanks, Christy, for having me!

Cactus wrens are notoriously difficult to capture on film because they are always moving. Click to enlarge.

But before you head on over to Tweets & Tree Frogs for a little educational dish on the chug-chugging cactus wren, note that I’ll be displaying some of my own bird-like behavior.

Just like migratory birds (and bats) that fly south, I’m going to dip into my bat cave for a bit. OK – I don’t have a bat cave, nor am I nocturnal, but I will slip behind my computer monitor. You’ll hear nary a chirp from me in the social media world.

I’ll see you back – hopefully in May or June – after Melissa’s EditPalooza! (I’m taking notes from author Sarah McCoy, who is participating in her own social media break, titled Hermitage 2013, while  she writes her third novel … one I can’t wait to get my hands on!).

Like a migrating bird coming back for the warmth of spring and summer, however, I, too, will return.

Did I mention that I suck under pressure? (Don’t ask about the time I caught the microwave on fire). So I ran to the house, grabbed my phone and called dearest husband: “I think the engine’s blowing! What do I do? Should I move Betty down by the wash so the house doesn’t catch fire?”

He says, calmly, “Go out and see if it’s still making the noise.” Of course I’m afraid to go near it because I just KNOW it will blow up in my face. Phone in hand, I walk tentatively toward Betty, then start to laugh. Then frown. Then whisper a few expletives. The hissss, was this:

Within mere minutes, the tire – with its blown sidewall – was flat, and Betty was lopsided… and disabled.

The irony of this story is that Betty hadn’t moved an inch since the holidays, when I’d last parked her (following a trip with an adventurous 70-something year-old friend from Chicago, along the remote San Pedro):

This is one of my favorite vistas in the desert. Click to enlarge.

That tiny patch of dirt at the right is the road my friend and I had driven during the holidays. Click to enlarge.

So, yes, when I realized I’d been driving on dried-out tires – hoping to get just a little more life from them – I was struck by reality: things could have been worse. The tire could have blown along the San Pedro River (where, mind you, we passed only a few cars). This was pretty much all we saw:

Three horses grazing (one is off camera). Click to enlarge.

I have wanted to photograph this trailer for years. Its tired sag, its rusty walls, and the vast expanse of desert mountains in the background give some indication of how far off the beaten path we were. Click to enlarge.

The geologic formations in this area are breathtaking. Click to enlarge.

Yeah … I’ll take luck any day – especially since the spare tire isn’t a correct fit and I haven’t changed a tire since I was 21. Oh yeah, and paying for the new shoes wasn’t much of a picnic either. But still…

For Writers & Readers: Happenstance. Luck. Serendipity. Those moments happen to us in real life. We may forget about them moments after they occur, shrug them off as coincidence. In fact, we won’t remember all of those incidents in our lifetimes, but we do accept them.

Yet in fiction, we’re less accepting of Lady Luck. Consider the movies you’ve watched and the books you’ve read – how, when luck intervenes, your first response is: How convenient. How predictable. How boring.

The best fiction transcends life. Just because “it really happened that way” (you argue to your critique group), doesn’t mean it makes for good fiction. Just ask a reader. Characters are most appealing when luck isn’t on their side, when they’re bumbling, stumbling and grasping.

So if I’d been writing the script of Betty’s blown tire, you can bet it would have been more calamitous than what really happened. In this case, however, thank goodness for real life … because, on the trek home from the San Pedro drive, we were on a winding, mountainous, guardrail-less highway, traveling at 60 MPH.

Can you think of an instance in your life when happenstance – luck – protected you or even led to something great and unexpected? Do you recall a particular book or movie that failed to wow you because of lucky circumstances that seemed too contrived?

When I first saw one of these fuzzy ants in the desert, my instinct was to touch it. Aww. Pretty. NOT. This velvet ant (Dasymutilla magnifica) packs one heck of a sting if disturbed. Photo by Stephen Minter, Desert Museum Digital Library. Click to enlarge.

Meet the desert’s Sacred Datura. My Audubon book says, “Caution: Entire plant is toxic.” Hard to believe something with such a gorgeous flower can be fatal if ingested by humans or other animals! Click to enlarge.

Just some desert rocks, you say? Not so fast…

Geodes are known for their illusive nature – containing beautiful display-worthy crystals inside, while their outsides are quite deceiving. These rocks I found during various hikes aren’t geodes, but their insides did reveal pretty crystal formations and marbled color striation. Click to enlarge.

The obvious message? Don’t judge a book by its cover. But we do it all the time, don’t we? We make assumptions about people based on their mannerisms, their looks, their speech, their likes and dislikes (even if we try to be unbiased). And, yes, we even do it with our reading purchases. (At least I do … though maybe this is part of my background, having designed alumni magazines in a previous life?).

I will admit to my bias, sharing three specific examples of books I shied away from based on cover instinct only.

I was personally unimpressed by the type-only treatment of this title, which seemed a little elementary and made me wonder about the book’s content (Would I like it? Was it a good fit for my reading preferences?). However, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The book is SO smart and the cover actually reveals quite a bit about the story. (The writing in this book is gorgeous, too). I’m glad I ignored my cover-instinct and moved forward. A fabulous read.
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This is another book I shied away from based solely on the cover. I really, really disliked the font; it reminded me of a ‘70s throwback and was too fru-fru for my liking. I expected a soggy, mushy romance (See how much I assumed from a cover alone?) But then rave reviews from trusted friends and authors came in. So I’m reading it now. Guess what? I love it. It, too, is smart and beautifully written.
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Same story here. The cartoonish feel of the cover caused me to overlook it week after week, even though my Goodreads friends were reading it and reviews are positive. I will read it, despite my initial reaction.
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For Readers & Writers So… Am I just a bad judge of book-cover character? Maybe. Do I put too much stock into cover art? Maybe. Or is it just human nature to (literally) judge a book by its cover? Artwork – colors, photos, drawings, font size, graphic treatment – creates mood, doesn’t it? A cover tells its own story, right? It’s a huge marketing tool for the sale of books…

And, in an age of inch-sized images (Amazon, Goodreads), where so many of us make our purchase decisions, isn’t it imperative that the tiny packet of pixels represents the right message? Shouldn’t covers all look professional? And shouldn’t they all tell a compelling visual story? But then again, what I find appealing you may not. What I find compelling you may not … It’s a personal thing in the end, isn’t it?

Do you ever pass up a book because of its cover? Do you even care about covers? Do you think today, more than ever, readers pay more attention to covers and are more discriminating (due, in part, to the sheer volume of work being published, especially in e-book format)?

I made assumptions (incorrect) about the above books, based on covers alone. Maybe I should look to the velvet ant, the Sacred Datura, and the geode … and stop judging books by their covers. The real question is: Can I?

But today I focus on a different sense: taste. As it relates to fiction, of course. Maybe this will whet your appetite (or simply confound you):

What are these Pac Man-looking discs? Read to find out.

Every good novel employs the senses, does it not? And while my WIP (work in progress) isn’t food-themed, a few “culinary” scenes have emerged that will hopefully tickle readers’ taste buds.

In one, a character waits for a burger concoction that came straight from my head: the Poco-burger, made at a fictional mom n’ pop burger joint in the Poconos.

… Today was no different as he waited for his Poco-burger, a mouth-watering combination of a quarter-pound patty, cheese, onions, a fried egg, and two slices of infamous New Jersey pork roll, Taylor Ham, sandwiched between a Kaiser roll.

So – you guessed it. I took to the kitchen last weekend, working to bring this made-up dish to life.

The ingredients for the Poco-burger, right on my countertop.

Wait. That’s a lie; I wasn’t the one in the kitchen. My husband spearheaded this endeavor. Why him? Well, it’s a New Jersey-inspired meal. And he’s a Jersey boy. (I admit to being fascinated – and a little scared – by the main ingredient).

Meet Taylor Ham, found exclusively in New Jersey and some areas of Philly and Eastern PA.

So back to the Pac-Man discs. Yep, that’s Jersey Pork Roll, known to locals as Taylor Ham. The slits in the side help this mystery meat cook evenly. It’s a roll of ‘breakfast meat’ that many compare in taste and texture to SPAM, mild salami, or US-style Canadian bacon. I disagree. It tastes like none of those things, boasting its own unique flavor, with a very unique history, including battlefields and lawsuits. Most importantly, it’s yummy (I’d never heard of it until my first trip to New Jersey after meeting my husband).

In true Jersey fashion, my husband decided the Poco-burger should be a “smash burger,” like the ones made in New Jersey’s White Manna diner.

Then he fried some eggs and threw American cheese on them (Jersey style, of course). And finally, the finished product emerged – from my head, to the page, to a plate:

I think I’m on to something here: the recreation/reenactment of fictional elements in my work (because, let me tell you … the Poco-burger was phenomenal). And there just so happens to be another fictional dish in my WIP, a dessert called the Gob Sundae, that I’d love to tackle, myself … Stay tuned.

For Readers & Writers: As writers, our job is to bring the imaginary worlds of our novels to life, allowing readers to touch, taste, smell, see and hear. What senses do you most savor in your fiction? How do you bring them to life?

The Poco-burger was inspired by regional food preferences. How important is it to ground readers in geographic tastes, sounds, experiences? Which are hardest to write?

P.S. You, too, can have Taylor Ham delivered to your doorstep by The Taylor Ham Man.

We purchased our travel trailer in '04 as a safe place to sleep while we completed renovations to the “honey house” that we now call home (then filled with dead lizards, scorpions, & one live tarantula). The structure was once a building for beekeeping. Click to enlarge.

Many of you may know that the camper became much more to us over the years – a guest house for visitors, a hiding place for holiday gifts, storage space, and most importantly – for me – a writing getaway. Many a word was penned inside that rectangular box – on my first fiction attempt and my current novel (as well as various freelance projects).

Hubby temporarily removed the dinette and created a workstation for his ham radio hobby. All that counter space was also perfect for my fiction writing! Click to enlarge.

So while this post may not appear to be much about nature and its ties to writing, it is, actually. The camper afforded a wonderful view of the mountains in front of our home. Many times, I’d be greeted by a Say’s Phoebe, hummingbird, oriole, finch, quail or rock wren teetering precariously on the clothesline in front of my camper window. From my writing perch, I’d seen roadrunners, squirrels, lizards, javelinas and bunnies.

This Say's Phoebe graces us with little Phoebies every year. As seen from the camper window. Click to enlarge.

The writing-studio-on-wheels* was a place of quiet solitude (our ‘honey house’ is a wide open space – a bit difficult for someone like me, who needs complete silence to write!), and a connection to nature via its paper-thin walls (evening coyote serenades felt almost too close for comfort).

But sometimes in life, one must say goodbye to things she loves – or, in this case, enjoyed and appreciated. It made sense for us to sell the trailer before it was reduced to a pile of dust by the harsh rays of the southwestern sun. It has served us well, and its sale may open new creative doors for us both.

For Writers: Saying goodbye to the writing-studio-on-wheels is not too different from editing. I know from recent personal experience the pain of waving farewell to characters, scenes, and words. It ain’t easy saying goodbye to those old friends. And it ain’t pretty. But in the end, it sometimes is necessary to clear things out to make room for something better. What are your thoughts on editing? Have you ever had to give up something you love/like/appreciate, only to find that something better was on the other side?

Happy trails, my friend. Your departure has led the way to a new chapter.

* Thanks to debut author Natalia Sylvester, who nicknamed the camper, “writing-studio-on-wheels.” Her book, Where We Once Belonged, publishes in Spring 2004.

First it was the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy that got a lot of women talking openly about sex. Then there was Magic Mike (Yes – I did see that movie and might or might not have been hooting and hollering in the audience and wiping drool from my face). And, how can I forget … one of my favorite literary (but sexy) books of the year, The Taker, by Alma Katsu.

Even the desert critters got their groove on, it appears:

My cats, Macho and Niña, alerted me to the ‘show’ going on outside the French doors with these checkered whiptail lizards. Click to enlarge.

This looks pretty platonic, yes. But this isn't what they were doing BEFORE I snapped this photo of dragonfly love at Apache Lake. Click to enlarge.

In the spirit of this sexual revolution, I thought I’d share a nature video with you as well (please DO turn on your volume). I just happened to be on the roof of our house when I heard rocks falling. I saw a bunny at the top of the hill and assumed he was the source of the noise. But as he hopped down the the embankment – within NOSE LENGTH of these two rattlesnakes – I realized what I was witnessing. And, of course, I ran to grab the camera.

And for the record … I am not some creepy animal voyeur. I don’t go looking for rattlesnakes, lizards and dragonflies who are getting it on. I just happened to be there. (Feel free to continue humming Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On” if you’d like).

For Readers/Writers: Did you read 50 Shades? (See Annie Neugebauer’s post for a great discussion of the book AND its writing quality. See my comment and you’ll know why I haven’t read it!). Did you see Magic Mike? What did you think? All in good fun? Too much? What amount of raciness do you prefer in your reading and movies?