August 18, 2025

It wasn’t my intent to write another nature blog, but sometimes a story writes itself. Such is the case today — and it includes an update on our sassy girl, Ms. ‘Dee.

It is a perfect day — so perfect, in fact, that you almost want to type it into your calendar: “Today is a perfect day.” The temperature is 78 degrees, the sun is shining, and there’s no humidity. The few clouds that drift by morph into shapes of baby animals — an otter floating on its back, a cat with a ball of yarn.

I’m sitting on my small patio. It’s 6:32 p.m., and I’ve spent this flawless day rearranging boxes in my garage. Futile work for two reasons: (1) I just cleaned it last week, and (2) unless I divest myself of some holiday décor, the number of boxes on the shelves will never noticeably decline. Still, the garage has been rearranged (again), swept (again), and even vacuumed (please don’t ask). Now it’s time for a break.

I have about 28 minutes left to enjoy this perfect day outdoors. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people mosquitoes treat like a Michelin 5-star meal. No amount of bug spray, coils, or natural oils deters them. In the sweltering heat of summer, I still wear thick socks, long pants, and long-sleeved shirts. I’ve actually considered wearing a beekeeper’s outfit complete with netting — I could always tell people I’m designing hats for the Kentucky Derby.

So with my countdown ticking, I watch the shadows of the pine and oak trees grow longer and imagine them thinking, “Oh, look - now I’m as tall as a sequoia!” The bright light of day softens into a golden glow. Just as I settle in for a round of Candy Crush, something the size of my thumb flits past me.

“Oh my God,” I yell to no one in particular, “somebody call National Geographic — I’ve just discovered the world’s largest mosquito and it’s coming for me!”

Upon closer inspection, I see it’s a hummingbird. Darting between the Rose of Sharon and the oak tree, it pauses just long enough to drink, then zooms back to a branch to rest. The dance repeats, and I’m astonished that from where I sit, I can actually see it quivering mid-air.

This exquisite ballet is interrupted by the distinct chirp of a female cardinal in the pine tree. Her dove-gray feathers are tinged with pink, and she flits from branch to branch before soaring over the rooftops and disappearing.

A moment later, her partner arrives. “Oh, Mister,” I think, “when will you learn? Never keep a woman waiting.” He too lifts off, but makes an unexpected U-turn and veers away. You just know he’s the guy who refuses to listen to his partner when she's giving him directions.

As if he was auditioning for the percussionist spot in our backyard orchestra, a woodpecker joins in with a steady tap-tap-tap against the oak tree. Between his rhythmic beat and the hummingbird’s aerial acrobatics, I have a front row seat to the best show in town.

I want to stay for the curtain call and give them a standing ovation, but nature has its price. Already, two welts have appeared on my forehead, and — somehow — there are bites on the sides of my fingers. I race inside, but not before one lone mosquito follows me through the door.

“Okay, Buster,” I mutter, “you want a piece of me? Bring it on. But I promise you, only one of us will be around to see the sunrise.”

It was no small battle, but I’m pleased to report victory was mine. The bugger didn’t stand a chance. Well, except for the part where I tried to swat it with the back of my phone, missed completely, and managed to whack my already-swollen forehead instead.

Today's match: Mosquitoes 5 — Kate 0.

P.S. I promised an update on Ms. Chickadee. Now when the garage door is open, she flies in and waits near the entry. The moment I appear, she chirps and stamps her tiny feet like a two-year old having a tantrum. That’s my cue to check whether Nadia, the squirrel, has left any scraps. Inevitably, the feeder is empty, and it's time for a refill.

In this neighborhood, Ms. ‘Dee doesn’t just rule the roost — she runs the whole HOA.

Footnote: Nadia is named after the gymnast, Nadia Comaneci, for her gold-medal ability to catapult herself onto the feeder like a champ.