Hummingbirds and less appealing wildlife

We installed a feeder on our front deck by our main entrance. I doubted that it would work but we filled it with the sweet red water and waited. We didn't have to wait long. We had a visitor the first day and we were all pleased. We were less enthusiastic about all the ants it attracted. The hummingbirds don’t seem to be bothered at all, though. They buzz in many times daily and I find myself inordinately impressed by this. They are truly amazing creatures.
Mostly I find birds boring, except for birds of prey. Eagles and hawks are hella cool. And OK, I do have a soft spot for seagulls, those garbage cans of the avian world. My dad once pointed out to me that they are really good fliers and since that day I have admired them. Plus they have that really nice colour combo of gray and white. But aside from hummingbirds, eagles, hawks and seagulls, birds are pretty dull.
Hummingbirds combine the best features of birds and insects. Most of the ones that come to us have emerald green on their backs. Maybe it is the same one over and over again?
A couple of weeks back, I was stretching on our front steps after a particularly hot and demoralizing run past Miss Daisy's house and along Ponce de Leon. As I was standing by our front steps, recovering, the little Green Baron did a couple of laps around my head. Thinking it was the biggest wasp in Georgia, I freaked out, flailing my arms about and shrieking like a little girl. The bird continued to the feeder and I was grateful no one had seen. I watched it as it drank and buzzed around the feeder. It made little chirping sounds and the whir of its wings sounded like a high-speed miniature fan. Soon it was off into the trees but was back a moment later. It hovered a few feet in front of me, watching, deciding whether to stay or go. It stayed and fed a while then flew off into the big holly tree in our yard.
Other times they come and look at us through our living room window before they have a drink. One sat on our sun deck railing for a while. He was so ridiculously small.

There is much wildlife in our urban setting. I wouldn't have expected this when moving to the metropolis of Atlanta. At night, it sounds like a jungle outside with the crickets, and the general buzz of the night, and screeches of the birds(?) I imagine those sounds come from squirrel monkeys (escaped from the horrors Yerkes) or bush babies. There is an unusual spider living in the plants lining our front walk. He is a pretty good size with long legs with grey and black/ brown markings in a stripey pattern. His web has an unusual white strip down the centre. We see him day after day, sitting in the same spot in his web. We’re amazed he is not washed away by the torrential rains. Today, another smaller version of him appeared, lower in the web. Georgie speculated that it was the baby and that the mother had died, and instructed Elise to keep her distance. Elise took this as her cue to stick her finger in the web. Anyway, spidey is starting to give me the creeps. It just keeps getting bigger. He's still out there in the dark, plotting our demise.
There are many other (boring) birds about, notably cardinals. We once saw a bat, at dusk. It flew over and spread its wings in a perfect bat signal against the sky. Most of the life around here is insect. So many bugs. There are fireflies, most noticeable at dusk but as I think about it, they seem to have disappeared in the last few weeks. Mosquitoes are a constant. Elise is covered in bites despite our daily efforts at repelling the little bastards. They do love her the best and I am a close second. The crickets/ cicadas/ katydids make an incredible amount of noise. Then there is the dreaded palmetto bug. This is a euphemism because it is really just a roach. One that can fly. They seem to come in the house when it gets really hot and apparently are not “nesting” roaches. So we need not fear infestation... They do seem a little hapless and only occasionally make it into the house. They have an annoying habit of taking flight just as I am about to crush them. Last night one flew down upon me as I tried to get him with a broom. Back home, I had a basic live and let live policy when it came to bugs. Here, partly because they are weird, exotic and disgusting I have a new policy: kill first and ask questions later. Actually, it is more like: kill and kill again, then kill some more. Then clean up the gross mess. I hit one so hard that I broke our broom. I don't know my own strength.
We have also seen some lizards, and there are crazy squirrels about. They are in a constant state of over-stimulated hyperactivity. They also act as thought they have never seen a person when ever we drive up or walk out our front door. They go into full on panic mode and dive into or out of bushes, trees, run into each other, drop, tuck, roll, etc.
My most recent wildlife encounter took place yesterday as I ran the trails of Lullwater park. It is on Emory grounds and has a creek, a lake and the impressive president's residence. It is a welcome shady escape for walkers and runners. It also has a number of ducks and Canada Geese. Good to see that they crap up the place down here as well. I think people eat Canada Geese here. Anyway, as I ran along the creek side trail, lost in thoughts of half marathon glory I was startled to almost step on a large snake stretched across the path. I could see neither his head or tail only his thick, spotted body. I have no reference point for this in my life, no Piagetian schema in my head to help me classify this perception and feel ok about it. My reaction was one of extreme alarm, panic even. I lept very high in the air and ran down the path as fast as I could. After running away for a while, my curiosity got the better of me and I crept slowly back to see if what I had seen was real. He didn't even bother to slither away. His big disgusting tail was still sticking out of the bushes. He was about 3 feet long and had markings that made me remember the story about the 100 thousand wild Boa Constrictors in Florida. That’s only one state away. There they hired snake killers and are considering marketing the meat (OK, now I just have to go to Florida).
When I got home I looked this guy up on the UGA’s herpetology and sneaky snake website. I was happy to convince myself it was a northern water snake, not a boa or a deadly cotton mouth. I was very unhappy to learn about all the different snakes that live here.
(I have since learned that this snake is not a water snake but a venomous copperhead. I have been reassured though that the bite probably wouldn't kill you.)

Praying Mantis

“There’s a Praying Mantis in the tree!” We were in the yard of Georgie’s pre-school. It borders on the forest of Lullwater Park and in one corner there is an enormous tree. Some of the children were jumping and yelling and pointing up at a little bug on the trunk of the tree. Georgie and I went over to check it out. About ten feet up, a good sized green grasshopper-like bug was slowly making his way up the trunk. One of the kids whipped a plastic shovel at it, but missed by a mile. “Looks more like a katydid”, I said. I had just learned about crickets, cicadas and katydids on a recent visit to the Fernbank Museum of Natural History. Basically, they’re all crickets. “What’s a kay-tee-did?”, the shovel-hucker said. I tried to tell him about the world of crickets but he quickly grew disinterested. I don't care about any of that, I just want to kill it. Meanwhile, Mr. Greenlegs was getting out of harms way. I decided it was a katydid, like the one we had on our front door a while back. Or maybe a Cicada. Praying Mantis!

A few days later, I was walking across the parking lot of the grocery store. I felt like I might melt. (The Kroger parking lot has got to be the hottest place here) I spotted a little green leaf in my path. I was about to step on it but changed my mind. There was something funny about the way it was upright and not flat to the ground. I tried to avoid it at the last minute but it caught my sandal and went sailing a few feet away. I bent over to look at it. I was an insect, a stick bug or something. It seemed no worse for wear after his rude introduction to my foot. I took a closer look. It was a Praying Mantis.