This strange spring storm took the local hummingbirds by surprise. During winter rains they'll stay under cover, doze in a state of torpor, their high-octane engines stilled. But today, in the wet and cold, they flock to the feeders. Dozens of them are perched in the wisteria right now, sheltered in the eaves of the barn. They stay even as I move among them and add more food. They crowd me, bump my hand, brush my cheek, chatter as as I re-hang the feeder. They drink, and I retreat from the pounding rain.