Dear Farm Journal,
Keewaydin is a transitional homestead for an entire rainbow of migratory birds, but none brushes up against my heartbeat like the bustling hummingbird. When I hear the buzzing vibrations, I whip around, torn from my task, seeking to spy these feathered gems. My Grandma Joy loved to watch them out her window, and I have many sweet memories of mixing up sugar water and bird-watching by her side. Yesterday, Sandi and I shed some tears when a frantic and exhausted hummingbird got trapped in Greenhouse 4. We did all we could think of to save her, shooing her away from the middle, and coaxing her toward the doorway with sweet smelling flowers. However, as I was running to get Rufus for help, Sandi somberly emerged with the small broken body cupped in her palms. Our hearts sank as we laid her under the mock orange tree and reluctantly returned to our tasks with a hushed grief. When I told my brother what had happened, he brought us two feeders, which will hopefully lure our tiny feathered friends away from the greenhouses. I know these types of things happen, but I can’t help but feel partially responsible. We’ve erected these agricultural structures which are pretty confusing for our winged neighbors, so the least we can do is attempt to steer them away from danger with something sweet.

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