Storytime

So the other day I hopped in the minivan of a friend of a friend's dad's friend who lives here in Walla (confusing I know). We then proceeded to drive about 15 minutes east to a tiny collection of homes called Dixie. In this po-dunk town, however, exists a marvel of amateur naturalism.

Tom Lamb, an ancient and now decaying old man, has been feeding hummingbirds around his home for 11 years. What started out as an extra feeder as a compromise for two competing hummingbirds blossomed into a splendid array of countless birdfeeders. Sprouting from trees, gutter sidings, fenceposts and so on, the Lamb property is awash in a sea of scarlet sugar-water.

The birds of course increased exponentially with this fantastic food source. In fact, Dixie has become such a significant feeding station for the bids that it is now a part of their migratory vectors. Literal clouds of these amazingly agile little creatures descend at the first hints of Spring.

And what does Tom Lamb do? He sits and watches. The flashes of iridescent color boldly shooting around the yard. Purples, oranges, reds and greens flitting by with equal speed. It is truly quite a sight. Which is why the home of Tom Lamb has become a tourist attraction of sorts. The only free for which is a bit of good old fashioned conversation with the proprietor. He lives for the comfort of the birds and passersby since the loss of his wife.

Even with his faltering physical state, Tom remains startlingly knowledgeable about his seasonal guests. As I tossed penny questions into this cavernous well of experience, I was reminded of a few things Aldo Leopold wrote in his Essays from Round River.

A hobby should be useless. The more useless the better. If, perchance, one's hobby is natural history, they may inadvertently produce something worthwhile. Amateurs become experts in their lives' constant diversions. Tom, for example, is an expert on all things that hum and dart. As a testament to this, U.S. Wildlife officials have utilized Tom's hummingbird metropolis as a research station, capturing and banding a great many of them. Some of which ended up as far south as Mexico in the Winter.


And basically, I thought all of this was simply too bizarre and unique not to share. It was certainly a surreal personal experience for me. And it carried interesting resonances with some of my leisure reading of Mr. Leopold.

So find yourself a hobby. Who knows what may come of it.