The first day back after our quick trip to Houston, today, is my usual day off from work, and I am spending it on reading and errands, despite a temperature of 75 degrees and a deep cerulean sky. From my seat at our dining table, I can see into the back yard, and earlier, while listening to WHRB,* I noticed a hummingbird perched on a branch, seemingly dancing. It twisted all three inches of its body side to side, stretching vigorously at the apex of each move. Like all movements of hummingbirds, it was quite rapid.

The slider was open and the program was classical. I idly wondered whether the bird might be responding to the music, then returned to my dull computer cares. WHRB often mentions local performances in lieu of advertising, and during the afternoon it repeatedly touted an upcoming performance of Rachmaninoff’s All-Night Vigil, which some mistakenly refer to as Vespers. Perhaps because I just spent a weekend with our sons, which often includes singing and/or discussions of music; perhaps because I feel the lack of high-quality classical performances in this casual small town; or perhaps because I have fond memories of a particular performance of that piece, each mention made me feel more regretful that I could not attend, and finally I turned the radio off.

I could hear a lot of hummingbird calls, so I decided to walk outside to stand under the tree we call The Pollinator, which the hummingbirds favor. Hummingbirds are easy to hear but harder to see, and I often locate them first by looking down. I was shortly rewarded with a hovering shadow on the grass followed by the rapid whirr of wings.  This one eventually alit about two feet from my face and proceeded to enthusiastically produce its characteristic high, chirpy-buzzy sound. As it did so, it executed dance moves identical to those I had observed when the radio was on.

Somehow I’ve never associated a movement with hummingbird song. Maybe this was the only one who does that? On the other hand, I was struck by how natural the movement seemed when viewed with the audio turned up. It felt like something familiar was suddenly revealing a new aspect.

I imagine the world is filled with everyday items I don’t genuinely notice or fully experience. I imagine that will continue to be the case.

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* Yes, that’s an East Coast radio station. There are a couple I still listen to via the Internet.