Yesterday I worked outside, editing articles in the heat and humidity, sitting still enough that birds and butterflies flitted by me, raising small eddies of air as they passed.

This little guy has been visiting us often. Lured by three feeders that were started early enough to get us on his (her?) gravy train. Or maybe “he” is actually “they,” a pair.

In the last two weeks I’ve sat close enough to hummingbirds to hear their wings whir and their brave little cheeps, to see them dodge bees as they angle toward the feeder. I’ve watched them fly off, sated (at least for 10 minutes), to perch briefly on the dead limb of an otherwise living red oak.

They are so tiny I can barely see them there, a bump on a branch. But I squint my eyes to observe their rare pause. Otherwise, I’ve seen them only in motion, their improbably tiny bodies vibrating with the effort of staying aloft.  Like many members of the animal kingdom, they set a good example. They never stop.