We get some good advice here, sometimes.
Feeding encourages birds to become dependent on humans for their survival. Feeding birds
We're all in this together

I keep an eye out for them. I've had some close encounters with most of the birds in my backyard — we're
all keen here. The place is now designed, in part, around them, with natural food sources growing here and there. They've even cultivated some of their own favorite foods, believe it or not, which I do my best to encourage and to nurture,
most of the time. They also help with the topiarizing. Eddie eat your heart out.
I was out and about one spring, when a whole troop of currawongs decended upon the yard. They were friendly enough, up in the branches, sharing the space — big, bold, blackish birds. I noticed that one bird had a berry in its gob. I swear he winked at me. And when he was sure I was watching him he dropped that berry into the mulch below the wishing tree. Then, with a
whoosh, he flew away.
A few minutes later he was back
and he did it again. Along with the rest, who were also coming and going in a similarly busy fashion. They were fruit-bombing my garden. Life from above.
I had a look at one of those bird-bourne UXBs on the forest floor, and, to my horror, it was a camphor laurel berry. These crafty birds were sowing camphor seed, in
concert. My guess, they were propagating future feasts, and future
homes. And this
was intentional.
I apologized to the big one, didn't go into too much detail, and tidied up the mess they'd made. These trees grow into giants here and are also listed as noxious weeds: "[This invalid link has been removed]"
I doubt that the currawongs care all that much. Can't blame 'em. They're acting admirably, for
birds. What's also true is, we may be getting a glimpse here into something really important. Big picture biodiversity's taking a hit, along these lines. But the birds are feeding their
families. And they're clearly
farming. Can't get much more important or more impressive than that. There's a lesson there. We think
we're special.
After I'd said my piece, and had gathered up twenty or so shiny blue-black berry bombs and set them all aside, the currawongs all took flight. And they never. came. back. True story.
In good conscience, I couldn't let the trees grow here. I'd get pinged for starters. But there would also be no room left, after a couple of years, for all the other vegetation growing here, for us, and for all the
other organic ornithopters. For the birds, I know, but that's just me
Here's some more fodder, for the topic in-hand. Little insignificant things they are, but they're treasures nonetheless. It all adds up, when the chips are down.
My guess is that these hummingbirds would love you a whole lot more, @the harp unstrung, if you planted, and cultivated their favorite flowering shrubs in your garden and dispensed with all the manky junk food.
It's all worth reading, if you follow the links. Being a caretaker is a full-time job. Give 'em half a chance and they'll take care of
themselves.
Getting hummingbirds too accustomed to people can make them vulnerable to those who may swat at them out of fear or attract them for reasons other than just observation. like selling them as love charms.
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