Okay, so I recently had a run in with a hummingbird that had me so riddled with anxiety thinking this perfect tiny creature would meet its demise in MY house. Innocent death, just because I left the friggen' door open. Really? My geriatric (and very nervous) dog Dexter was sure that he had entered the hummingbird appocolypse, certain that the tiny, vibrating, chirping being above his head had come to seal his fate. Meanwhile, Rufus, the "whatever he is" terrier mix, at a spry 4 years old, was perched ready for the most delightful snack ever invented to fall from the ceiling.
How did this all happen, you ask? Well it was an every day morning where I was dutifully completing my Facebook obligations instead of being productive. ZOOM! I look around...what the...? Sure as I think it's gonna be a regular day,(which they never are), I now have a tiny, beautiful...VERY freaked out thing of wonder in my house. So, I freeze. Thinking to myself; "if it doesn't know I'm here, surely it will see the error of its ways and go back out." That didn't work. Then I start talking to it, as if me telling it where the door was, or pleading for it leave will do anything but freak the hell out of the guests at the two open houses next door. Wait! I'll guide it to the door with a broom! Uh, yeah...not so much. You can imagine it's like waving a wet noodle at a jet plane...not effective. I call my parents. Yea, my parents. They make me feel better and they know more stuff than you can possibly imagine!
I also take my turn googling the crap out of my predicament. And land on this very helpful and very sensitive webpage. (http://www.worldofhummingbirds.com/firstaidtrapped.php) Good advice and so kind to remind me that the tiny bird bird will be upset if I giggle at it for the frown they traditionally wear. But, there was something I read that lingered...I'll tell you about it in a sec.
You're wondering what the solution is, right? Well, there's a few. I tried them ALL. Leaving shiny red things on my porch after closing blinds and shutting off lights. I'm sure the nearby realtors are thrilled with me by now. All the while, this poor creature is panicked. I imagine much more than I. It had managed to find rest landing on my hanging dining room lights. Taking flight every 15 seconds or so and bumping its fragile little head on my ceiling. Seemingly oblivious to the door it entered. What do I do? I can't leave to get the boys for school for fear that Dexter will have a nervous breakdown or Rufus would snatch him up?! No, I will be here until this is finished. Desperately hoping it's not a "then the bird met its fate" kinda way. In my research (thanks to my Dad and this gentle website) I learned that the last resort is to let them become so exhausted that they will be able to be caught and released. Waiting, watching, stressing...great, I'm really good and that kinda crap. (Note dripping sarcasm). I don't know what I was thinking, but it figured if it got tired enough and landed on my hand....I could take him out. So I rig a crazy ,and potentially lethal contraption, of a ladder to reach the lights he had safety in. Imagine it. Precariously perched pretending I'm a friggen' branch. But, then it landed...ON ME! So hopeful, I carefully moved...and off it goes. Three, four, five times...my arm is tired and the dogs and realators think I am crazy.
Fine. Little birdie, I'll wait. I arranged for my "always there in every strange pinch" friend to pick up my kids while I waited for this bird to become exhausted. Each time it landed I would think, is this it? Is it so tired? Finally, I just stood on my perilous perch and it landed and stopped. I reached up and cupped my hands around it. I was afraid to crush it with my big clumsy hands. I climbed down. Rushed outside and opened my hands. Dazed, it looked about with its head feathers all messed up. Then, as quick as it flew in, it flew off. Now, this is where I get to tell you the part of the website page that I can't forget. It noted, "that if the hummingbird has not been injured, it will fly off, often with a chirp or two of thanks." When I read that, perhaps being so stressed, I scoffed at it. But, sure as the sky is blue, that little bird chirped twice as it flew off.
As I wrote this story, I realized something (yup, I did). I realized that the bird, in order to be rescued had to become so exhausted that it surrendered its struggle. Woah, to me...that's big. Surrender? Be so exhausted that you let someone help you? That's tough. Tough, but altogether too true.
Great lesson. And funny story. Made me smile this morning.
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