Obsessions can make for fascinating books. In Jon Dunn’s The Glitter in the Green, his obsession with hummingbirds takes him from his native and hummingbirdless Shetland Islands to the Americas, where literally thousands of hummingbird species are hanging on. It is a great trip, with history, folk tales and biology percolating throughout. There’s even the occasional dash of danger. But not from the hummingbirds.
Hummingbirds are a western hemisphere phenomenon. They live from the farthest reaches of Alaska to the tip of South America at Tierra del Fuego, up mountains and down at sea level, and Dunn booked himself a top to bottom trip to see the rarest of the rare, and if possible, photograph them.
This is far better than what his predecessor obsessives used to do, which was kill them, stuff them and collect their dead bodies in their homes. Hummingbirds have been a horrifically big industry. Hundreds of thousands of tiny hummingbird bodies have gone into women’s hats, for example, and they are still sold as pendants and amulets promising health and happiness to wearers. It got to the point where fraudsters made up their own species. They pieced together feathers and skins from different birds, and sold them as new or (extremely) rare species. Some of the best museums in the world fell for it.
If destroying their habitats weren’t enough, poisoning them with neonicotinoid pesticides and children shooting them with slingshots have made it a miracle they’re around at all. Cats, a billion strong around the world, love to snatch the life from them, because they are too tame and trusting. Rats invade their tiny nests. Agriculture reduces their living space. But plumage hunters have nearly done them in. A hundred fifty years ago, Lord Strathmore noted: “The activities of the plumage hunters have cut the number of species of hummingbird species in Trinidad from nineteen to five,” for example.
It is actually fortunate that so many people are obsessed with hummingbirds, because they set up feeders for them all up and down the continents. While some bemoan the new dependency on feeders instead of (or in addition to) harder foraging, it might be the case that manmade feeders have become completely critical to their migrations and survival.
Hummingbirds migrate. This is something Man has only recently discovered, by tagging a leg and examining the same bird up to 3500 miles elsewhere. From Alaska to Florida, in this case. They can still do it because feeders along the way are charging stations. The dearth of natural flora, tied to the steep decline of pollinators as well as industrial takeovers of all useful land, makes their travels iffy without human intervention.
The birds need an astonishing amount of such fuel to thrive. They live in the fast lane. Their wings beat at 50-200 times per second; their hearts pump at 1200 beats per minute. To do this, they burn 4000 calories an hour, spending their lives feeding and resting, feeding and resting. They flick their long tongues at nectar 16 times a second, allowing the snatch and grab feeding that keeps them from being in one exposed place for too long. They don’t slurp so much as snatch. Their tongues are actually two pieces, which they purse into a tube to capture nectar.
Dunn begins at the top of the world, in Alaska, where he sets the pace. Birders are very supportive of each other. They will help if they possibly can. They will go out of their way to aid a birder in search of his or her holy grail. Dunn gets to network and meet all kinds of helpful and supportive people along the way, making each country he visits into a successful foray despite the weather, the climate, the terrain or, as in Bolivia, nationwide turmoil over the federal election where Evo Morales tried to cook the books.
Dunn’s journey, a trip most of us would consider the adventure of a lifetime, took him down from Alaska through the western American states, through Mexico, over to Cuba, back to Costa Rica, Colombia, Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru, Brazil, Chile and Argentina, where he ended up at the tip of South America, to find a rare hummingbird just as it got too cold for the bird to stay much longer. Each country has its own story and marvelous people who help. By then end, readers would be justified in feeling that birders should be running things – everything.
He spends time on Robinson Crusoe Island, a rock of terrible weather, festooned with feral cats, rats, and brambles, all of which are invasive species brought in by residents to improve things. It doesn’t take a genius to predict that the opposite happened, as the cats kill the hummingbirds, the rats eat their eggs and the brambles wreak havoc with the native fauna. Oh-for-three is a typical score when people tamper with nature.
Four rabbits were let loose in Tierra del Fuego in 1936, and at last count, in 1953, there were 30 million. The government brought in beavers(!) to create a fur industry, which never took off, but the beavers, with no natural enemies to control their numbers, have changed the environment completely. The result is reduced habitat for hummingbirds, something Dunn finds all over the hemisphere.
Hummingbirds are represented by so many species, they are all too often limited to a tiny territory with very specific characteristics. They are often simply endemic to a tiny area of a country and nowhere else. Destroy those environmental conditions, and the hummingbirds could vanish. They migrate to another tiny area in order to satisfy the need for energy food when the seasons dictate. We can only hope they come back.
Fortunately, residents and some whole countries (such as Costa Rica) are noticing the value of ecotourism. Birders in particular seem to be wealthier, leisurely, friendly, harmless and passionate. Catering to their needs and whims is proving worthwhile. Setting out a fenceline full of feeders in the right neighborhood sees flocks of birders assembling daily. The word spreads fast among them. Hummingbird-friendly homes become targets of pilgrimages.
The birds range in size from tiny – the size of a bumblebee, to dragonfly size, to “gigantic” – finch size. Some supplement their nectar diet with insects, sucking them out of woodpecker-drilled holes, or catching them in the air like dragonflies do.
For the most part, they come in shockingly brilliant, iridescent colors, often clashingly and obnoxiously so. (This is how they ended up decorating hats and books, among other things.) Some have furry boots, outrageously long tail feathers, and personalities to match. One hummingbird was constantly bullied by a fiercer species, to the point where it complained to the feeders’ owner. It hovered in front of the man’s face until he agreed to go over to a feeder and cup his hands around it so that only the complainer could (finally) feed in peace there. Now of course, the owner is well trained and has to do this all day. He complains he can’t go anywhere any more.
There are placid hummingbirds, and territorial hummingbirds, that will chase all others away and/or fight them to the death. Some have serrated beaks for doing battle. Some will sit on a person’s finger and sip at leisure from a thimbleful of sugar water. Some will even enter the house to be so fed. It is a whole society, with every personality we are familiar with.
Obsessives today collect memories rather than stuffed bodies. Dunn makes a point of remembering every aspect of his many sightings, and relates them in terrific detail. He describes another obsessive, Sandy Komito, who set out to see as many as he could, and logged 725 different species of them in just one year. That’s two different hummingbirds a day, every day, for a year. There is much to see in the world of hummingbirds.
So the book is part travelogue, part nature study, part history and part trivia, a great combination that keeps it moving, not perhaps at hummingbird speed, but with plenty of zigs and zags to keep readers turning the pages.
David Wineberg