Dexter Knows the Way
Dexter Knows the Way
Status: Original Available
9×12 in watercolor - Purchase Here
Creation video at the bottom
Dexter was young, bright-eyed, and on his very first migration. He was a juvenile red-throated hummingbird, and although nearly everything about the journey was new to him, somehow the journey itself was not. That was the strange part. No one had told him when to leave. No one had shown him a map or pointed his beak in the right direction. There had been no instructions at all. One day, Dexter had simply felt something change inside him. The air seemed different, the light seemed different, and somewhere deep in his tiny body came a very clear message. It was time to go.
Dexter found this completely perplexing. How could he possibly know where he was going when he had never been there before? Still, his wings seemed to understand even when his mind did not. So he followed the invisible pull and headed in the direction that somehow felt right.
Traveling was exciting, but Dexter quickly discovered that hummingbird society had rules nobody had bothered to explain to him. He would arrive at a beautiful new garden, tired and hungry, spot a patch of colorful flowers, and think he had found paradise. Then, just as he dipped his beak into a blossom, another hummingbird would come streaking toward him like a furious little missile.
Dexter never meant to steal anyone’s flowers. He did not even know flowers could belong to somebody. They were growing right there in the open, bright and delicious, so naturally he assumed everyone could enjoy them. Apparently, some hummingbirds strongly disagreed.
The feeders were another mystery. Dexter liked them because they were easy to find and usually held plenty of sweet nectar. Some feeders had fierce owners who guarded them from nearby branches and chased away anyone who dared approach. Others were peaceful stopping places where travelers came and went without much trouble. Dexter preferred those.
When he found an unattended feeder, he never drank too much. He took what he needed and moved along. Somewhere inside, Dexter understood that he was not the only traveler making a long journey. Another tired hummingbird might arrive later, hungry and needing the same little burst of energy.
Still, Dexter liked flowers best. Feeders were practical, but flowers were an adventure. Every garden offered something different. Some blossoms were long and red, some tiny and purple, and others glowed yellow beneath the sunlight. Dexter loved discovering them, tasting them, and hovering for just a moment while the petals moved gently beneath the breeze.
As the days passed, Dexter began noticing something else. He was not completely alone on this strange journey. Every so often, he recognized another hummingbird he had seen before. They were not exactly traveling together, but they seemed to be following the same invisible road. One might appear at a feeder several miles away and then disappear again. Another might rest in the same tree one evening before continuing on the next morning.
That made Dexter wonder even more about the mysterious knowing inside them.
Did everyone feel it? Was there something hidden in their feathers, their hearts, or perhaps in memories passed down through generations of hummingbirds? Dexter imagined thousands of tiny birds before him feeling the same pull, leaving places they knew and flying toward places they had never seen.
He never came up with an answer.
Then one evening, after several comfortable days in a particularly lovely garden, Dexter felt the familiar sensation again. The air had shifted. The sun was setting a little differently, and something deep inside him had begun to stir.
It was almost time to go.
Dexter perched quietly on a thin branch and looked around the garden. He had enjoyed this place. There were good flowers, a dependable feeder, plenty of shade, and only one exceptionally grumpy hummingbird who had chased him across the yard more than once.
Dexter wondered what would be waiting farther ahead. More gardens, certainly. More feeders. More angry hummingbirds defending things Dexter did not realize belonged to them. There would probably be wind, rain, strange trees, and long stretches where he would have to trust himself.
For a moment, Dexter wished someone could simply tell him where he was going.
Then he remembered that strange little certainty that had brought him this far.
Maybe he did not need to understand it yet.
Tomorrow, when the sun warmed his feathers, Dexter would drink deeply from one last flower, rise above the garden, and turn toward the direction that somehow felt like home.
He did not know exactly where he was going.
He only knew it was time to continue.