Two Hundred Sixty-Two

I’ve filled the hummingbird feeders four times in the last two days. Each time, I dissolve a cup of sugar in a quart of water and fill the feeders. In no time, those thirsty birds suck up the nectar, the frenzy of their appetite evident in their frenetic flurries and territorial fights that, ultimately, cede space based on passion and aggression. They are tiny, angry people on uppers, people with wings.