I bought one last year and really liked it so I got another for my daughter this year!

I really like the thick sturdy, heavy, beautiful glass. Mine came with all the parts intact. The rest of the parts are metal and I did not have any difficulty with assembling or leakage. The colors are slightly different than they are in the picture. I think because of the nature of the handblown glass, it’s likely to have much different coloration variability than some other commercially made products. But just know it is beautiful. The size is ideal to hold a week or more worth of nectar. The hook that comes with works very well, and I love the ant moat at the top. Slightly more difficult to clean, but using a bottle brush, it’s fine. It’s an ideal sympathy gift because it’s beautiful and unlike flowers doesn’t get thrown out in five minutes. It’s very very pretty

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This is a great hummingbird feeder - looks good and doesn't leak!

I got drunk on a Friday night and watched a hummingbird documentary. Naturally, I became obsessed with feeding the local hummingbirds, what with autumn and winter coming. I'm not allowed to put holes in the exterior of my apartment at all, so I got a c-clamp to clamp on to the support beams of my upstairs neighbors' patio from which to hang this feeder. I didn't want the sparrows and robins to feel left out, so I also purchased a seed feeder. I figured next paycheck I'd order a second c-clamp for the seed feeder, and then I'd have a veritable bird paradise outside on my patio, plus free TV for my indoor cats through the slider. Even got a pretty little birdbath/planter combo. I'll grow dandelions for the bees. Perfect.I fill the hummingbird feeder and make my partner, who is much taller than me, hang it up, since I can't fasten the clamp on my own even standing on a chair. I was real excited, but for days, I didn't happen to see any hummers out there. I thought, well, that's okay. They just haven't noticed yet. They'll see it eventually.But after a week of no hummers, I thought maybe it would be fair to give the seed feeder a turn, since I see the little sparrows hopping around my patio every day. I take down the hummingbird feeder and wash it out, resolving to put it back up when I got my second c-clamp. I fill the seed feeder and hang it up where the hummingbird feeder had been.I happen to come over and sit with my cat by the slider, checking to see if the sparrows are coming to the feeder, when something catches my eye.A hummingbird. A female. She makes eye contact with me. I feel the weight of accusation. Betrayal. I have bamboozled her. What kind of monster pranks a hummingbird? Their lives are already so hard. What is she supposed to do with this cheap WinCo garbage? I am a monster. I have sinned. I have dishonored David Attenborough.I am on my feet before I can even think, on the verge of tears. I fly across my apartment, startling my dog and my cats. I dump two cups of water into my electric kettle and set it to 95°F. I frantically measure out ½ cup of white granulated sugar. Hummingbird body temp is about 100°F, so it shouldn't be too hot to set out immediately (Learnt that from the documentary. Thank you, David Attenborough). I dump the water into the measuring bowl with the sugar. It dissolves blessedly quickly. I fill the feeder. It is the perfect amount. It fills the feeder perfectly. The hummingbird gods see my attempt to make amends and offer benediction. A spark of hope in the darkness.I rush outside. I nearly fall and break the feeder in my haste to drag my shabby, paint-covered desk chair from when I was 12 onto my patio. My neighbors probably think I am insane. I frantically try to hang the hummingbird feeder up with the seed feeder. No dice; they're awkwardly smashed together. I cannot offer this to Margaret (which is what I have named the hummingbird). The beams are so high up, and I am so small, and my desk chair is from when I was even smaller. I am on my tiptoes. I am probably breaking OSHA guidelines. I am nearly weeping with desperation.Eventually in the struggle I drop the seed feeder. It's cool, though; it's one of those metal ones that slides shut if anything too heavy tries to sit on the perches. The foot is a little dented, but no matter. The hummingbird feeder is up. I hang the seed feeder on an errant protruding nail I hadn't noticed before, where the support beams are secured with the little pieces of metal. I go back inside. I pray to the Hummingbird Gods. I pray to David Attenborough, who is still alive and probably did not hear me.Exactly thirty minutes later, Margaret returns: a gorgeous, perfect Oregon black-chinned hummingbird. She makes eye contact with me again. She sits on the perch. She sips. She leaves. I am absolved. My sins, forgiven.Moments later, she returns. A male is with her (I have named him Seamus. I have also decided that they are married). She does not linger, but he does. He looks at me. He sips. He stays awhile. I am on my knees, giddy with relief.I clean this feeder out every Monday. Every Monday, Margaret and her husband Seamus sit in the bushes beyond my patio, judging me. I hurry to bring the feeder back out; I always have the new nectar ready-made before I take the feeder down to clean it so that it goes back up as fast as possible. Margaret always stops and looks at me when she visits. I love David Attenborough. I love hummingbirds.The seed feeder has gone 100% completely untouched.