They zip, zoom, dive, dart with the ease of the most accomplished aerial acrobats. They come flying in with attitude and I can just imagine the conversations they might have.
“Get out of the way, this is MY feeder!” as he barrels in shoving others off.
“What makes you think you’re the boss of this feeder, you don’t scare me!”
“This is mine!”
“No, it’s mine, find another feeder.”
“Do you want to share?”
“Which hole has the best flavor?”
“What? Where’s the juice? Who drank all the juice?”
They hover around the window, watching and wondering when the feeder will return.
There is one who has been named King. He sits perched on the top of the holder surveying the yard before him. He is ready to defend his territory should anyone be brave enough to challenge him.