For weeks, the hummingbird feeder attached to the window has been a scene of constant squirmishes. There is dive bombing, mid-air dog-fights, wing buzzing, frantic chirping and chattering, guarding, and occasionally, drinking. Mom and I sit in the living room an hour or two before dusk and take it all in. I can’t help but see all of us in these delicate, beautiful, feisty, and dare I say ‘elegant’ little creatures.
The feeder is the size of half a dinner plate and has three feeding spots spread wide with lots of space between. Yet we rarely witness two birds drinking together in peace, and those peaceful moments only last a matter of seconds before a skirmish begins again.
I’ve noticed how one bird will sit at the feeder without drinking a thing. It stands guard, its tiny head on a swivel. It chases after any other bird hoping for a drink. When this bully gets bullied away, it comes right back to stand guard again. I sit on the other side of the window scolding it: “Come on, let someone else have some!” That bird seems so selfish, then again, it doesn’t realize there is more than enough for everyone.
I googled ‘why do hummingbirds not share feeders.’ The answer surprised me.
They’ve learned to be territorial and aggressive about food. Each flower has only a tiny bit of nectar, so when a hummingbird finds a patch of flowers, she has to protect her stash to survive. In essence, these hummingbirds are conditioned to live in scarcity.
The hummers on the front porch don’t realize they have an all-you-can-eat buffet with more than enough food for everyone. They don’t know that there is a loving mother on the other side of the window who will never let their food run dry or sour.
I see our whole world on Mom’s front porch. What if we ALL knew we’d always receive what we need? Would there be hoarding of food, supplies, money, or love? If we all knew there was enough for everyone, would there be any need for power struggles or division?
I’ve seen an answer to this question on the remote coast of northern Labrador. No roads connect these communities to the rest of Canada. Everything must be brought in by sea or air. I became friends with several people in those communities. One friend loves exploring and hunting wild game, and regularly stocks the community meat locker with his catch. No one guards the locker and many people benefit. Having a community meat locker speaks volumes about kinship and cooperation in the community. And that locker is only the tip of the iceberg.
Inuit have called the northern Labrador coast home for over 7,000 years, and only in the last few hundred years were they introduced to European goods and ways of life.
What I learned from my friends, and from reading about their history, is how for thousands of years Inuit received what they needed from nature with respect and wisdom, rather than extracting without regard for balance. While life has changed for many indigenous peoples, others, from all over the world, still live in harmony with and learn from nature.
In return for their respect, these Indigenous peoples receive bounty from nature. And my goodness gracious did that gorgeous Labrador land give. There were fish, caribou, berries, and freshwater streams. I was there in July, with daytime temperatures around 75 degrees Fahrenheit, but we still had access to a chunk of frozen snow the size of a small house to chill things. Nature gives.
Here’s what seems true to me now. We all have the opportunity to live more open and less territorial lives. But just like the hummingbirds, many of us have learned to believe that our resources are scarce and need to be guarded. Me too. When we believe the narrative of scarcity, we naturally feel the need to guard what we think could be in jeopardy. This protection instinct shifts the moment we realize we are perched on the all-you-can-eat buffet of life.
My wish is to be even wilder, freer, and more open. The moment I cannot be manipulated, I am free. The moment I remember I lack nothing, I am wild.
May we all guard less and live freer.
These calendars are a year-long portal into natural wonder. For eight years I’ve lived in the bush all over North America, and this is your invitation to join the journey.
For example: In January, we float in the Labrador Sea beside a 10,000-year-old turquoise giant, wondering together about what we see in its ever-changing, glimmering faces.
In November, we sit together in an ancient cliffside secret sanctuary. In silence we ponder what’s tugging on our hearts, as a striking labyrinth of rust-colored canyons and mesas stretches on forever.
Through all my adventures, I’ve realized everyone just wants to be more free.
Join the adventure. Be surprised by what you find inside, and within yourself.
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Kristy Halvorsen
Photographs of Kristy by family and friends
All other photographs on this website by Kristy Halvorsen
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Love your story. I have, throughout my life, experienced “being taken care of,” having just enough until my monkey brain tells me something else, and I listen to it! I have learned to relax when I feel that tug of scarcity pull me out of my life. I am reminded while reading your story of the line in the Lord’s Prayer: ‘Give us this day our daily bread.’ No more, no less – I am always given what I need for this day. Thanks for sharing, Kristy.
Looking forward to your book.