Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, September 4, 1994 TAG: 9409060011
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: Steve Kark
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
I leapt from my bed and dashed outside. But finding no sign of the cats whatsoever, I pulled up a lawn chair to catch my breath. I found, instead, a dark, moonless night.
Above me, a multitude of stars filled the night sky, a sight that never fails to captivate me, even at that hour when every sensible person would be in bed.
Never one to miss an opportunity, I sat back for a short survey of the sky. I was surprised to find the constellation of Orion just above the eastern horizon. It was my first glimpse of the "great hunter" since early spring. Not generally associated with the summer months, Orion doesn't appear in the familiar, early evening sky until late fall and remains a prominent feature there until spring.
It was, for me, a clear sign of approaching autumn. In hindsight, it also explained the unusual behavior of the ruby-throated hummingbirds.
In the last few weeks, they'd gone from being sleek, feathered jets to something that looked more like flying ping-pong balls. I'd wondered at the reason for their gluttony. Had we spoiled them with two feeders and a yard full of flowering blooms?
Because the days were still hot and humid, I hadn't thought much about the end of summer and the approach of autumn. It's too early for sweaters and scarves, after all.
Since that night in the yard, though, I've begun to see signs everywhere. The days are getting shorter, the nights longer and cooler. And yes, the hummingbirds are getting fatter.
Certainly the smallest birds that visit the New River Valley, ruby-throated hummingbirds have already begun to prepare for the long trip to Central America, their winter home. Before attempting the journey, however, the tiny birds must increase their body weight by as much as 50 percent so they can fly the 500 to 650 miles across the Gulf of Mexico.
As primarily nectar feeders, hummingbirds spend a lot of time hovering, like tiny helicopters, near flower blossoms. To do this, they must beat their wings as fast as 75 times per second, which burns an incredible amount of energy.
To get an idea of how much, consider that most people consume about 3,500 calories per day. A comparably sized hummingbird - if you can imagine such a thing - would need at least 155,000 calories just to sustain itself, and that doesn't include bulking up for a long flight.
That's equal to about 300 hamburgers, 20 apple pies, 20 chocolate eclairs and 115 glasses of beer, just to meet its daily requirements.
Hummingbirds migrate at night to conserve this stored energy and to make themselves less of a target for predators along the way. Still, many don't make it. This is especially understandable when you consider that, with so much stored energy, each bird is a tantalizing little gulp of protein and a real prize for any predator that can catch it.
When you think about it, it's surprising that any make it at all, considering that the birds must somehow find their way across the Gulf of Mexico with no protection and no landmarks to guide them.
Sitting there that night, watching Orion lift above the eastern horizon, I recalled one theory that says hummingbirds navigate by the stars. It wasn't hard to imagine them rising in the night sky, keeping their left wingtips pointing toward Orion until they came to the white sand and rain forests of Central America.
Sometimes we ought to consider that things are even greater than what we can imagine, even in our wildest dreams.
If that's not worth getting up for in the middle of the night, I don't know what is.
Steve Kark is an instructor at Virginia Tech and a correspondent for the Roanoke Times & World-News' New River Valley bureau. He writes from his home in scenic Rye Hollow, in a remote part of Giles County south of Pearisburg.
by CNB