I was practicing today outside on my little patio, playing softly as not to bother the neighbors or wake my son sleeping upstairs. While I was playing a tune, a hummingbird buzzed right into my face, fluttered back, darted about 2 feet from me and stared and bobbed at me for at least a whole A section and then came back 2-3 times, going back and forth from a nearby tree. I think at first I was playing the Merry Blacksmith, then went to Road to Livascorna, all the while amazed that this bird was quite obviously listening to and wondering about my playing.
Later in the early afternoon, I was playing again, this time in the living room, and the hummingbird returned, fluttering outside the sliding glass door that leads to the patio for a great number of seconds, looking intently in my direction. Again, I had never seen a hummingbird come to that door and stare inside…a totally unbelievable experience.
Anyone else have a brush with nature while playing? It’s wild…
In warmer weather, I play outside during my lunch hour at work.
There has been a family of finches that seem to respond to my fife playing. I can’t hear them while I’m playing, of course, but when I finish a tune, I can hear them flitting and twittering about over my head. It’s quite refreshing!
Pacific Crest Trail, Washington, between Dishpan Gap and White Pass, small clearing on the ridge separating the east & west watersheds.
As I came into the clearing a humming bird buzzed past me from behind and turned to face me. I pulled the bamboo flute out of my belt loop and started playing. The bird stayed there for about 15-20 minutes. I was running out of concentration and ability to focus on the bird, I became aware that there were more of them behind me. I ended and turned. About 15-20 of the things broke formation from behind me and scattered.
or, how to tell that you’ve been on the trail for too long!
So you think that it was the the flute playing that attracted the hummingbirds? What about the pink shirt that you were wearing? I have frequently been visited by hummingbirds on the trails of southern Arizona, especially when I was wearing a brightly-colored shirt or hat, in which case I was a walking flower. You would think that the hummingbirds were smart enought to figure that one out, but evidently not.
Akiba wrote:
Anyone else have a brush with nature while playing? It’s wild…
Yesterday, I walked to the river early at first light. As I approached a back-watered area, eight mallard ducks began to move off quickly. I pulled out my Sweetone D and began playing a bit of polka music. Cautiously and from a distance out, they slowly came back to hear what the shoreman had to say. They didn’t land but, stayed around until I left.
Yes, Weedie…I was honoured .
I was wearing a blue long sleeve shirt & I do not remember which headband, as the bugs had been very bad the whole trip. (although while I was playing there were no bugs)
I believe that it was the dominant hummer telling me that I had entered his/her territory. Or just strafing for insects as I had a cloud attending me.
I apologized and offered a tune.
I have often played the flute in remote desert locations, and it is easy to see that animals are attracted to the sound of the flute. However, I don’t want to attract mountain lions, especially around the campfire at night. I remember once that when I stopped singing and playing the guitar around the campfire in the Sonoran desert, I heard the loud scream from a cat that was obviously nearby listening to the music. Now I don’t mind a few coyotes chiming in for the chorus of the tunes, but the lion scream sent chills up my spine causing me to throw a few more cactus ribs on the fire.
Denny, I learned long ago not to wear a red hat in the desert, for if you do that, you will attract not only birds but also bees and wasps.
bandanas only…sometimes two, one around and the other over & down the back. It is possible that I was wearing two. They would have been blue around and the other yellow. I may have been wearing a long sleeved yellow tee shirt under the blue button one. Again, the bugs were fierce!
I’ve interacted with the birds, playing flute, many times up there, though none as memorable as that time. No cougars, bears, etc. Marmots…but they’re not that fun.
With all the talk of your monumental hike coming up, I would have thought for sure you would have had many brushes with nature. Of course, it’s hard to impress family, so your birds, well…
Many (like 40!) years ago, I was staying in a hostel, and couldn’t play in my room for fear of annoying others. So I took my flute down by the lake to play on a gravelly beach. It was a beautiful, quiet morning. After a few minutes, I became aware of a wake approaching me in the still water. As it came closer I saw it was a fish. It swam, at the surface, right up to my feet. It was one of those fish that are oval in cross section, the thin axis being horizontal in normal swimming. It came right in until the water was too shallow to support it and it fell over. I stopped playing and reached down and touched it, whereupon it suddenly realised the folly of its ways and tore off out into the lake again.
My grandfather had a dog which hated Dad’s accordeon playing - it would ram its long snout under the sofa, put its paws alongside its head as if trying to cover its ears, and howl.
The closest brush with nature I have had recently are the mice that scurry across my classroom floor after the children have left for the day. They too, are totally unimpressed with my playing…flute, whistle, banjo, or fiddle. I haven’t tried singing yet!
1960 , i was all of 25 years of age , and cycling through the countryside of France .
i had woken at about 6 am , and it was a cool morning , with ground mist on the fields , about waist high , magical ( would it have been what they called " la brume blanche " ? )
i had my nylon strung guitar and was working on this new fangled claw hammer style i had picked up on my way through England .
strolling over to the fenced off field , where a crowd of cattle were grazing , still high on my new found skill , to find that they were strolling over to me .
what an audience !they were fascinated , maybe 10 - 15 of them and they didn’t boo (moo ? ) once .
after some minutes , i got a really scary feeling about the whole thing and got back to my morning tea and baguette , then on my bike , and off to Paris .
(made camp , by the way , in the Bois de Boulogne . which i mentioned to someone who knew Paris quite well . he was surprised that i had done it , and lived , but at 25 , what would you know about the weird and wonderful world ? )
I used to be able to play a pretty good two-note hawk cry on the third octave of my Sindt whistle, and I could often get the local hawks to call back and forth with me for a few minutes. I’ve also had various small birds stop by for a moment or two to try to figure out whether I was a potential mate .
I live in Australia. Australia has a lot of little out of the way places with Irish names. If I am passing through them I stop and take out my 3 piece whistle and play a tune that corresponds with the place I am at/in. I was staying at a country club in the Clare valley in South Australia and I found out that the lake it is built on the edge of is called Lake Inchiquin. So…after staying there a couple of days my 9 year old son and I went for a walk around the lake in the light drizzle (even though it was still sunny) that was falling just before sunset. I asked my son to hold on for a moment while I took my whistle out to play. I played the first part of ‘Lord Inchiquin’ and had just started into the B part when a white heron emerged from the depths of the lake with a fish of some sort in it’s beak. It stretched it’s neck skywards against the backdrop of the orange sky and proceeded to reposition the fish and gulp it down. My son pointed at the heron in wide eyed amazment and I continued to play while nodding back at him, also wide eyed! The heron looked at us, paddled towards us into the shallows, cruised along the edge of the bank, eyed us up and down, blinked and then turned and paddled off slowly towards the middle of the lake.
I finished playing and my son and I said to each other ‘Did you see that?!!!’
I thought to myself that it had to be some sort of synchronisity. I didn’t even see the heron dive even though I was looking out over the lake at the time, how long was it under there holding it’d breath waiting for me to pass?!!!
A purely magical moment.
