I’ve been working on a collection of small, needle-felted hummingbird pieces that will serve as samples for some classes I will be teaching this summer and next fall. Coincidentally, this last piece was completed at the same time I discovered a teeny, tiny hummingbird’s nest, with three jelly-bean sized eggs inside it, in our backyard. Since that discovery, my OCD has gone through the roof as I am constantly checking to make sure the nest is still there and that the mama hummingbird is fulfilling her very important role. When I peek out the window and see that the mama hummingbird is not in her nest, I find myself almost becoming indignant at her carelessness but, as a coworker said to me, “Ashley, she has to eat. Stop being so judgmental!” The indignation intensifies as I notice the papa hummingbird is nowhere to be found and I ponder, ‘Where is he? Why is she left doing all the hard work?’ Anyhow, as I await the arrival of three new family members, I’ve gone ahead and forewarned our friend and pet sitter that three fledglings have been added to her pet-sitting duties and she reassured me by saying, “No problem! I’ve pet sat young hummingbirds before.” She went on to tell me she wouldn’t charge us extra, either.