Two weeks ago, I watched a hummingbird fly through a snowstorm to get to the bird feeder that was hanging by my back porch. It was a female Anna's hummingbird, barely 4-inches in length, and weighing less than one-half ounce. She arrived in a blur of green feathers, hovered over the red plastic receptacle hanging from an old post, and dipped her delicate, slightly down-curved bill into a bowl of sugar water using her tongue to retrieve the liquid until she was sated. She must have known I was watching her, but considering the snow, gusty wind, and riot of other birds that had careened across her flight path, it did not seem to matter. This was likely her first-light flight. It was imperative to restore energy lost during the long, frigid night, and swirling snow was obviously not a deterrent. Anna's wings were beating about 50 times per second as she whirred through the dense air. It was a rare and wonderful sight I shall not forget.