Chip, Cold, and Canada – An ABA Young Birder Essay

By ABA Young Birder, Felicity A.

“Isn’t it good to be eating breakfast, Chip?” Hue said, while sipping nectar from a hibiscus blossom and searching for any insects within it.

Chip paused. He settled himself on a low branch, fluffed up his drab feathers, the typical winter plumage of a Ruby-throated Hummingbird, and finally responded, “Sure.  You know what is even better than eating a juicy bug?”

“What?” Hue said, while preening in a particularly difficult spot to reach with his long, awkward bill.

“Not having to compete with these ginormous tropical hummingbirds for a while!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“I can’t wait till we get out of this scorchingly smothering area. Crisp southern Canada is where I belong!” Chip declared, audible to human ears only as an extraordinarily loud chitter.

“Wait a minute. You don’t like wintering in Guatemala?”

“Nope,” Chip said, as though that were nothing.

“What?” Hue exclaimed, aghast.

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t like wintering in the tropics so much that you will stay in Canada all winter long with its super cold, harsh weather? Also, the Black-capped Chickadees told me that the winters are no joke.”

“Well, yes, I’d winter in Canada,” said Chip, coolly. 

“But you’ll be so cold that you’ll die up there!”  

“Well, we’ll be harassed by these huge hummers if we don’t stay alert! Remember that you are in the tropics right now, Hue,” Chip said, diverting Hue’s attention from the crazy fact that Chip would choose to winter in Canada rather than the tropics, where there are large tropical hummingbirds, but plenty of food.

Chip and Hue resumed their habitual feeding in preparation for their trek over the Gulf of Mexico.  

“Hue, I’m so full. I’ve packed on so much weight that I bet I could take the place of a Hudsonian Godwit and migrate non-stop from Alaska to southern Argentina!”

Hue laughed and said, “I bet those Hudsonian Godwits wouldn’t even notice you, even if you could survive the entire flight, which you couldn’t.” 

As evening began to approach, Chip and Hue found themselves back together after splitting up to feed on their own. 

“Hue,” Chip said, “I saw Ruby today.”

“You saw Mother?”

“Yeah, she even said ‘hi.’ She asked how you were doing, Hue.”

“That’s cool. Why does she care about us all of a sudden?” Hue asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe she just wants us, as her first brood raised to make it across the Gulf and live to breed. I mean, it is really special to a mother to have her first ever brood raised live to breed, like, both chicks. But we already survived fall migration, and that’s more than most, so I don’t know why she’s been so worried lately.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” remarked Hue.

The days slipped by, and soon it was time for spring migration.  

“Bye, Hue,” Chip said, “I’ll see you in Canada?”

“Chip, you know it’s not a guarantee.  But anyways, bye.”

About a day later, the hummingbirds arrived in Louisiana after having flown non-stop across the Gulf. Tired and hungry, they sought out the nectar feeders and the plump insects that southern Louisiana hosts, not caring that cameras and binoculars were trained on them. After that quick refuel, the hummers pushed on. They stopped at different places to build up their fat stores once more.  

By the time they reached Canada around May, the male hummingbirds were exhausted.

Chip and Hue both made it to Canada safely, right to the very spot where they fledged. They established their territories and defended them, even from each other. Anything, from a bee to an eagle, another hummingbird to a human, if it entered the territory, they would see to the intruder’s eviction immediately.

The breeding season was (fairly) uneventful. Chip only had to body slam a few intruding hummingbirds to get them out of his territory. Hue had to attack with a bit more ferocity to get unwelcome visitors out of his area, though.

Soon, the breeding season was over. The Ruby-throated Hummingbirds began to prepare for migration. After a long day of feeding, Chip and Hue found themselves together.

“Chip! Have you not been feeding well? You’re nowhere near prepared to migrate!”  Hue exclaimed.

“Gosh, Hue, what a way to greet one’s brother.”

“Do you want to come feed off the nectar and insects in my territory?”  Hue questioned, caringly. 

Chip said solemnly, “Hue, I’m not migrating this year.”

“Wait a minute,” Hue said cautiously, “You mean that you were serious?”

“Yeah, Hue. I’m not migrating.”

Hue was quite shaken by Chip’s decision to winter in Canada. He apparently knew something about Canada’s winters that Chip didn’t. “If you insist on wintering here, go ahead. But you have to promise me that you will do something memorable with me before I leave because I’m sure it will be the last time I see you. Okay, Chip?” Hue said, while playfully nipping Chip with his comical bill right below his wing.

“Fine,” said Chip, sarcastically. 

Chip and Hue had some wonderful, memorable time together away from the constant grind of staying alive.  They laughed while trying to pirouette in flight, chittered at annoying humans, and even participated in an insect-gorging competition!

Too soon, the time came.

“Chip, now you’re sure you don’t want to at least go to south Louisiana? I’ll stay with you during the winter if you do,” said Hue while supposedly preening.

“Hue. You love and care about me; I know it. I have made up my mind, though. I am staying in Canada. Now, goodbye. I won’t forget you. I will always remember you as my loving brother,” said Chip a bit tearfully. 

“Chip,” Hue faltered, “Remember me, and, goodbye, my friend.”

There was silence as the two brothers looked at each other, unwilling to part.  Finally, Hue unclasped his toes from his perch, and hovered one moment more, his eyes glossy with unshed tears, while lovingly looking at Chip. Then he flew off, leaving behind one feather. Chip saw that feather. He knew Hue had deliberately pulled it loose for him. That feather would remind Chip of the wonderful times that they had had together when he would be struggling to stay alive in the freezing winter months of southern Canada. What better than a piece of Hue himself to remind Chip that not all hope is lost? 

After Hue was out of sight, Chip picked up the feather and held it in his beak, gazing southwards. He stayed there until his gnawing hunger finally got the better of him. He went off to feed, but not before securing Hue’s feather in a minuscule, hummingbird-sized tree hollow.

Shortly after the immature hummers left, it started getting cold, real cold.

It wasn’t like Chip was alone. He had found a Black-capped Chickadee gang and hung with them. He tried to learn basic survival techniques for freezing temperatures, but he wasn’t really adapted.  

October rolled in, and things really got cold. Chip had survived the nights before huddled next to chickadees, but it seemed like he just couldn’t fluff up his feathers enough.    There was also much less daylight for Chip to gather food. Nectar wasn’t a problem, not at all. It was the insects that he needed to stay alive. Flowers were getting increasingly scarce, and so were the insects within them. There also weren’t many, if any at all, insects flying around. Chip always stayed around a house with a nectar feeder, or big red flower with infinite nectar, as Chip called it. The house also had a garden with a couple of late-blooming flowers in it.

Chip very much regretted his decision to stay in Canada, but now there was nowhere near enough food around for Chip to fuel up and make it far enough south for him to find and devour the amount of food he needed to complete his journey at least to Louisiana.

As it got colder and colder, Chip got weaker and weaker. He knew it, he would succumb to the freezing temperatures. He would never see Hue again. It also didn’t help that there were constantly people with two shiny glass cylinders staring at him and there were also shiny glass cylinders with a bulky something in the back taking pictures of him. It made Chip very uncomfortable. But there wasn’t anywhere else he could go!

Chip usually secured Hue’s feather in a branch right next to the feeder because it made Chip feel less cold when he thought of the fact that a small piece of his own brother was close by to him, in Canada with Chip. Whenever Chip went to a tree hollow to sleep, he always carried the feather carefully with him. Having a piece of Hue close to him made Chip feel secure. He would fall asleep thinking of the good times he had had with his dear brother.

One cold morning, Chip perched and drank nectar from the feeder. A few ice-cold drops of sugar water splashed onto his perch. He tried taking off, but he was stuck!  He was frozen to the feeder and couldn’t fly off. A door opened. Chip, startled, held still. A human walked out carrying a bottle of something. The human walked right up to Chip. He struggled but couldn’t get out of the deathly grip of the ice. As the human held out a bottle over Chip’s minuscule legs, he summoned the last of his strength and uttered a piercing series of chitters. The human was stunned for a moment. Then, it ever so carefully poured a couple of drops of warm water on Chip’s feet and melted the ice. Chip was free! But his strength was gone. He knew he had but a moment left to live. As a last effort, Chip flew to the branch in which he had hidden the feather, Hue’s feather, and pulled it out from where it was wedged. With the last ounce of his strength, he flew to a nearby perch with the feather in his beak, and there he perched, desperately trying to stay alive long enough to mentally say goodbye to Hue. “Hue, you were right.  I’m sorry I didn’t listen.  Goodbye, my dear brother.  Goodbye,” Chip thought, sadly. His body drooped, but Hue’s feather remained in his beak.

Chip heard something. Footsteps. The human was coming closer; closer. Chip was too weak to fly away now. He felt hands gently cup his body and bring him somewhere.  

Chip was made comfortable inside a warm cardboard box. Inside, there was an immaculately white towel beneath his feet and a few twigs for perching. Chip was still hungry, but he was quite stressed and couldn’t metabolize correctly, so it was for the better that he was given no food.  He was warm and in a quiet spot.  That was all Chip needed at the moment.  

Then he felt that the box he was in was being picked up. He peeked through the holes poked for air circulation and saw that the same human, who had saved him from the deathly grip of the ice, was suspending him in the air. As Chip wondered by what magical feat he was in the air, he realized he was moving! He was moving in the air without his flapping! He was flying without flapping!

Now, as humans, we know that the box Chip was in was simply being picked up and carried, but Chip did not know this.

The box he was in was put in a car. The car was driven down a road. Which road?

Chip did not know. All he knew was that he was in that box for a while. It was all the same noises for a long time. All he heard was the dull roar of the cars on the highway. All the same sight, the blurred view of trees, dried grass, and concrete for miles on end. As Chip sat in the box, he wondered how Hue was doing. 

 As it turned out, there actually was some drama happening in the tropics.

“Hunter, are you sure this is the place where we wintered last year?  It looks different.”
“I mean,” Hunter said, “instincts tell me this is the place, but there are no trees!”

“Well,” Hue began, “we have to winter somewhere!”

“Where can we go?  This forest has been clear-cut. This area can no longer support any hummingbirds!”

“Where do you think we should go, Hunter?” Hue questioned.

“Don’t ask me!” Hunter exclaimed.

“I can think, too, you know!” Colubris chittered, annoyed.

“Do you know where we should go, then?” Hunter asked, arching an eyebrow (if birds even have them).

“I do, actually,” said Colubris.

“Where do we go?” Hue asked, expectantly.

“Remember about an hour or so ago, we were flying over a citrus grove in Belize?”

“Yeeeees,” Hunter and Hue responded.

“Why don’t we just fly back there, eh?”

“But we have wintering traditions to keep! Generations of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds have wintered here!” Hunter countered.

“Look, Hunter,” Hue said. “It’s either we keep the wintering traditions and starve, or we winter over where Colu mentioned.”

“But—” 

“Also,” Hue continued over Hunter’s interruption, “If we stay in this desolate field and starve, we won’t even have any descendants to continue wintering here!”

“Fine,” Hunter said, exasperated. “I’m with Colu.”

“Let’s go, then!” Hue announced, excitedly.

“Let’s go!” Colubris twittered.

“Let’s go,” sighed Hunter, disappointed that he had lost yet another argument.  

Two hours and about 381,600 wing beats later, Hue, Hunter, and Colu arrived in an extensive citrus grove, and began to slurp sweet nectar and devour delicious tropical insects. After their first taste of the plump bugs, the three hummers decided the citrus grove was their new wintering spot. The route to the beautiful grove was burned into their brains to be used again next migration.

And so, the winter passed. Hue, Hunter, and Colu spent the majority of their time together because they enjoyed each other, and because the resident hummingbirds were less likely to harass the poor Ruby-throats, who were just trying to stay alive. They shared stories before going to torpor, exchanged best feeding spots, and even tried to get as close as they could to a praying mantis without being nabbed!

In what seemed like no time at all, it was time for the male Ruby-throated Hummingbirds to begin migrating. Hunter, Hue, and Colu all crossed the Gulf at about the same time; they all made it across alive, but barely.

A large storm system swept through the Gulf right when the hummer trio was trekking across the vast field of water. The hummers got caught in the storm; it wasn’t fun. There was heavy rain, bright lightning, deep, booming thunder, large hail (to a hummingbird), and even a waterspout! Thankfully, the hummers had fed well before departing, so they made it out alive. Not all the hummingbirds were as lucky as Hunter, Hue, and Colu, though.

After a quick refuel along the coast, the Ruby-throats pushed on. They arrived in Canada around May. They began to establish a territory, as Ruby-throated Hummingbirds have done year in and year out, and display for judgmental females, desperately trying to woo them. As Hue began the usual breeding routine of a Ruby-throated, he experienced the biggest, best surprise of his life.

“Colu,” Hue whispered, “Do you see who I see?”

“Who do you mean? Chip over there?” Colu questioned.

“You sure that’s Chip?”

“Sure as Ruby-throated Hummingbirds migrate, that’s Chip!” barged in Hunter, suddenly.

“In other words, you’re not sure,” Hue said.

“What?  In other words, I’m very sure it’s Chip.”

“Well, you might want to find another ‘sure as’, Hunter.  Because the whole reason I’m asking if that’s Chip is because he didn’t migrate!”

“Chip didn’t migrate?”  Colu and Hunter exclaimed, simultaneously. 

“How’d he survive?” asked Colu.

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Hue said.

“You can just ask him,” said Hunter, “Chip is your brother, after all.”

“Alright, alright,” Hue said, as he flew off to where Chip was.

Hue was greeted with a series of challenging chitters from Chip because he didn’t recognize his brother from his high perch.  Hue responded with his own greeting chitter.  Like a lightning bolt, Chip tore from his perch to greet his brother, who he hadn’t seen in months.

“Hue!  How I missed you!” exclaimed Chip, joyfully.

“O Chip, I thought I’d never see you again, but here you are!” Hue cried out, overjoyed. “How’d you survive?”

“Tell me your story first, Hue. Then I’ll tell you mine.”

“Okay, fine. So, I migrated across the Gulf. That was uneventful. When we arrived on the nonbreeding grounds, there were no trees!”

“What happened to the trees?” Chip asked.

“I don’t know. That’s besides the point. Anyways, Colu— You know Colu?” Hue questioned. 

“I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know him birdonally.”

“I befriended Colu during fall migration. We met in Louisiana at a hummer feeder.  Okay, so Colu had the genius idea to just fly back an hour or so to a citrus grove we had passed over, so we did that. That grove is now our new wintering spot, by the way. Winter was uneventful after that. Then came spring migration. As we were flying over the Gulf, a large storm system swept through. I made it, and so did my wintering pals, but Ruby didn’t make it.”

“Poor Mother. I heard her second nest last year was unsuccessful, too,”

“Well, at least she raised us.”

“Yeah. Sorry for the interruption, please continue.”  

“That’s about it. I kept flying north until I came here and saw you.” 

“Okay, okay,” Chip said, nodding. “Are you ready for my tale?”

“Tell me.”

 “‘Twas a dark and freezing night,’” began Chip, dramatically. He continued, “I was cold and starving, huddled next to a Black-capped Chickadee. Morning finally came.  I hummed to a nectar feeder for breakfast. It was so cold that my feet froze to the feeder’s perch. Then a human walked over and poured drops of warm water on my toes and melted the ice. But my strength was gone. I thought I was completely done for. The human picked me up and brought me to a warm, quiet place and put me in a box. The box I was in was driven to a building where I was handled and fed all winter long. At first, I thought the people were harming me, but then I realized they were helping me, so I didn’t mind. Once spring came, I was released back into the wild.  I established my territory, and I already convinced a female to mate with me. Then I saw you, Hue.”

“Very dramatic, very dramatic,” said Hue, approvingly.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“Well, Chip. I have to go feed now. Do you want to come?” Hue asked.

“Sure, Hue. I am hungry, now that I consider eating.”

“You’re always hungry, Chip,” commented Hue.

“You’re right.”

Chip and Hue, lighthearted and laughing, flew off to feed. As they sipped the sweet nectar and devoured juicy insects, Chip said, “You know what, Hue? I ain’t wintering in Canada again.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hue whispered under his breath.

References

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