CARRIE CLASSON (cont.)

“Yeah, but they're beautiful!” Peter says, looking at their shiny feathers and delicate beaks.

We have a long wire strung from our neighbors' shed to our house that we hang lights from. I would estimate there is room for 3,000 hummingbirds on that strand of wire but, according to hummingbird logic, more than one hummingbird on the line at a time is a crowd. They fight like mad for one particular spot on the wire while the rest of the space sits vacant.

“Hummingbirds are selfish!” I tell Peter.

“Yeah, but they're acrobatic!” Peter says, watching them dip and dive to drive one another off the wire.

I'm sure someone smarter than me could explain what sort of evolutionary advantage all this fighting over nothing accomplishes. It seems utterly pointless.

But, perhaps that's how all fighting seems when looking at another species.

It is only as the sun is setting that the hummingbirds set aside their antisocial games. They seem to realize that if they are going to get anything to eat, they are going to have to do it before it gets dark. All the bravado and all the squabbling ends in the last moments of the day when they finally get down to business and take care of themselves.

For this brief period, right before hummingbird curfew, the hummingbirds forget their differences and sit together at the feeder — nine at a time, side by side — and suck down the nectar they will need to make it through the night.

“Better hurry up!” Peter says to the last stragglers.

“Night's coming!”

I think I know just how they feel.

Till next time, Carrie

Carrie Classon is a writer and performer. She is the author of “ I’ve Been Waiting All My Life to be Middle Aged” and a syndicated columnist. Her memoir, “ Blue Yarn,” was released last year. Learn more at CarrieClasson. com.