This week my husband did something that brought a massive smile to my face, and it was an incredibly simple thing.

He sent me a photo of a hummingbird visiting our butterfly bushes by our front porch. She (or he) was happily dipping into the flowers, and in that moment, my heart was filled with happiness.

We have bird feeders at several strategic points in the front and back yards, and we both love watching the winged dance the birds do flitting from one to another.

For his birthday two years ago, I gave him something called a Bird Buddy that takes pictures of the birds that come to feed, and even identifies them. That has been such a delight.

And we both laugh because the birds have developed a waiting line on the small fencing below the birdfeeder that surrounds our dogwood tree.

They will perch in a row and take turns flying up for a snack, then moving on so the next one in line can come in.

But I planted the big butterfly bushes out front to attract other winged creatures, not realizing a hummingbird might join in.

We used to live on a river in Connecticut, and we had a hummingbird feeder and a standard bird feeder on our back deck, and the range of birds who would stop was unreal. Rose breasted Grosebeaks, Goldfinches, House finches, Bluebirds, the list goes on and on of the variety of birds that came to visit the standard feeder.

Then there were the Ruby-throated hummingbirds that got so comfortable that they would light on my shoulder and rest for a moment after stopping at the feeder.

High up in the trees on the river, we had a beautiful golden eagle and a bald eagle one year,  and great blue herons were frequent visitors.

And then there was Lucy and Desi, a mated pair of Canada Geese.

The first year they came to have their babies in the pond that was offset from the river, I started feeding them cracked corn and getting to know them.

When the four babies came, they trusted me to sit nearby. And as they grew, the babies came for corn as well.

The next year, when Lucy and Desi came back for baby season, when the five babies were born, they brought them to our house to meet us. I was blown away by their trust, and by their pride in their little family.

The third year, one of the young goslings got caught in a fishing hook and line. It was not something I could get out, it was too deeply embedded. We found a wildlife center, but we were told we needed to get the bird to them.

I thought for sure Lucy or Desi would not let me pick up their baby and put it in a box, and that the baby would fight. I was worried about causing more injury, but the hook and the line had to come off.

So, I grabbed a soft towel and gently approached baby and mama. Lucy watched me intently, but I promise you, she knew I was going to help her little one.

Because she did not move to stop me, she did not hiss, she did not make a sound. And the baby took his cue from her. He watched me without saying a thing, and let me gently wrap him in the towel and put him in a box. He trembled, but he did not resist.

We got him to the rehab center, and they took it from there. They brought him back in good health, and released him to his family.

We moved back to the south the next winter, and I missed my bird family fiercely, as did Jim.

I missed their beauty, their personalities, and their trust in me. I loved the time in my day or on the weekend when I could sit on the deck or in the backyard and just let them be around me. The peace in those moments was golden, and happy.

When we moved to the beach, initially we had Ospreys in the trees on the tiny island between us and the ICW. That was a new bird for us, and oh! Were they wonderful!

But then tourists on jet skiis found the water path through the inlet by their trees, spraying water up on the nests and startling the birds, and they did not come back the next year.

Instead, the Great Blues took up residence. To watch their massive wing span cross over the marsh behind us was breath-taking, and to come across one fishing on the bank of the pond would cause me to stop in my tracks and just watch.

But over time, even they have dwindled as there is more human activity, and as more and more trees are cut down.

When we returned to Lexington, we decided to put some birdfeeders out, just to see if we could draw birds to us once again.

What we got at first was squirrels.

I will never be upset with any living creature, but I did want to find a way to keep enough birdseed in the feeders for the birds. So we invested in hot seed that bothers the squirrels but not the birds, and that was effective.

And finally, they began to come.

I think the funniest one is the Towhee, who says his name and has to be the vainest bird ever. His favorite thing to do is sit by the side mirror on my car and admire himself!

But I still missed the hummingbirds.

For a few years, we had one that would come to the feeder on our window, but last year, nothing.

So, when I saw one this year lighting on the bush, it might be a small thing indeed, but it lit up my heart.

I hope you have your own hummingbird moment today.

Elisabeth Strillacci is editor of the Salisbury Post.