The Fascinating Hummingbird

The hummingbird has fascinated both naturalists and engineers.  A video of the Black-chinned Hummingbird  (also shown in the picture) that visits our backyard feeder is now available on Youtube at http://youtu.be/ljXb8siXI-Q

In the video, if you carefully observe you will notice the tongue of the bird sticks out after it has withdrawn its beak from the feeder.  This observation prompted me to investigate the role of the tongue in feeding.  Surprisingly, it was not until 2011 that the mechanics of hummingbird feeding was elucidated and some misconceptions removed. It was thought that the hummingbird drew the nectar by capillary action through a fine tube.  Today we know that the hummingbird has a forked tongue that allows the nectar to be aggregated on thin hair-like structures along the length of the tongue.  The nectar trapped on the hair-like structures is consumed when the tongue is withdrawn into the beak.  These structures are discussed in detail in a paper published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (June 7 2011) downloadable for free at http://www.pnas.org/content/108/23/9321.full.pdf+html.   When designing micro-aircraft, we also learned that the hummingbird flying at 30 kmph ( a typical flight speed)  dissipated about 4 Watts of metabolic power.  A typical hummingbird weighs less than 3 to 4 grams.  The power-to-weight ratio is 1000 W/kg an enormous value comparable to that of a V8 diesel engine in a car.   Thus, the hummingbird’s heart beats at the rate of 500-1000 times a minute and the bird needs to feed every fifteen minutes to keep up with its metabolic requirements. As a result, hummingbirds are always at the brink of starvation. I am sure that this hungry creature will appreciate a feeder in your backyard. I recommend using just plain cane sugar solution ( 1 cup of sugar  plus 4 cups of water) with no fancy additives.

Thoughts on Mother

Thoughts on Mother

You clapped these hands, and I laughed out loud
And every meaningless utterance of mine
Evoked in you, exclaim and applause.
I am certain you are the very first one I met.
I must be your precious one,
For, the many nights you stayed awake
To keep me dry and fed,
And with nourishing care, oil baths and well-combed hair,
Despite tearful protests walked me to school,
And with Diwali treats and a magic touch
Always set off my broad smiles.
Your harsh reprimand still rings clear today
Only as wails of appropriate concern,
For, I would return late, dirty and tired.

Always away from you, busy with friends and play,
Lost, for years, unbound, in a worldly gaze, 
I grew a new family around me,
And wandered farther and farther,
Oblivious to the keen eye you kept on me.
And years later upon my return,
You invited me in with a hug and smile,
And insisted again on my nourishment
Even as I proclaimed,
I am now big boy, in a hurry, and not hungry.

You are now a beacon in this dark night.
And from a distance I can see you smile
And I wonder if I ever asked,
“Did I make you proud?”
And then I am reminded of others,
Not as lucky as me.

Liberation

As though seeking a higher knowledge

That will liberate her,

With a wailing child on her hips,

She wanders with one arm outstretched,

Only waiting to catch the next nickel

That may be flung at her wretchedness.

Just twenty-four thousand more like her child

Will turn quiet again tomorrow,

Their hunger, their wails, their emaciation,

Unseen, unheard, unsung.

And tomorrow, even more men

Fat, wealthy, and insentient,

Will be liberated into eternal silence,

Unseen, unheard, unsung.

Did someone swear that money cannot liberate?

Insane?

She talks to the trees, calls to the birds,

Gathers the trampled fruit from the sidewalk,

And throws it into a crumpled plastic bag.

She pauses, smiles and breaks into a song,

And waits for others to pass by,

As she hauls mindfully her cart piled with clothes and cans,

While he rushes past children and bystanders,

Looking straight ahead, oblivious of his surroundings,

Yet watchful of his white clothes and polished shoes,

He shrieks an expletive as he steps on a fallen fig

And squirms hurriedly through the crowd,

Runs down the platform, and grabs

The door of a stuffed moving train.

He is the normal one and I am told she is insane.

And what else did they tell me that was true?

The Cycle

He would definitely be there.

The email said so.

It even said that the train station

Was near where he worked.

Now, almost everyone was gone, and

I was tired of gazing down the corridor,

Hoping for a glimpse of someone familiar,

And three full hours had passed.

The smart phone only led me to his voicemail

Did he forget?

Or was this some rude joke?

I pushed the metal buttons on the ticket machine, and

“One-way ticket to San Jose”, it said,

And the coins clanked in conclusion

Of this lesson of disappointment.

As the train whistled out of the station

I started to wonder.

Did I just leave someone behind?