Hummer opera
Humphrey (so named because he bogarts the feeder, and no, I am under no illusion that his name is an original conceit) and Humriette made it through Tropical Depression Ernesto okay. The poor birds came to perch on our balcony railing a few times, because it was about the only perch they could find that wasn’t thrashing about like a carnival ride. I was afraid the wind would bash them up against a wall or something, but they seem to have managed.
I’m guessing somebody else in the area has put up a feeder, because I don’t see Humphrey a-bogarting as often as I did, and I see Humriette rather more often at our feeder. That’s fine with me; sugar-water’s cheap.