Read by Matilda Longbottom

Last summer while I was picking raspberries, I had a curious little visitor—a hummingbird. First she dashed by, but then she did an about-face and hovered just two feet in front of me. I stopped picking and stood still, pleased to be so close to this tiny creature.

Suddenly, just as quickly as she came, she flew away.

I moved on down the row, and she found me again! This time I continued to pick. She carefully watched me as I did—and even moved in a little closer.

Then she zipped off again. The next thing I knew, she and her mate were sitting on a wire near the vegetable garden. They surveyed me for a few moments and then vanished.

All summer long, every time I harvested—morning, afternoon, or evening—the female hummingbird came to observe. I liked to think it was me she was fascinated with. But I do know she had an eye for red: red berries, red peppers, etc. Once she zoomed in on the red tomatoes lining my windowsill. She zeroed in on each one, backed off, and then checked out the next.

Whatever the hummingbird’s motive, I treasured her visits. In September, the weather cooled and she left for warmer climes.

I miss her. I hope she comes back this year!

—By Jo James of Marshall, VA.