Midnight Mutterings | Hummers

||| MIDNIGHT MUTTERINGS BY JACKIE BATES |||

On a day when the wind is howling and the rain drums on the skylights, I am reminded of a summery day about six weeks ago when I sat in this same room with doors and windows wide open when I heard the first whir. It was mid afternoon. Before I could close the nearest door a male Rufous Hummingbird swooped inside. This room has a cathedral ceiling with a loft on one side. There are two skylights with deep wells.

The Hummer looped around the small room and, as he passed the door, he was joined by a female, and they flew around the room and in and out of the wells, attracted by the light. I held my breath, hoping they wouldn’t trap themselves, and they didn’t. Instead they dropped out of the well and made a couple of loops near the ceiling and swooped out the door. I jumped up to close the door behind them, but before I could reach it, they were back, swooping, circling, their tiny engines purring. I came away from the door but stayed close so I could shut the door the door when they left again. In less than a minute, the male dipped and exited the way they had entered.

His flying mate, however, was distracted by the brightness of the skylight and she flew into the well where she stayed for the next six, endless hours. I watched her for those hours while she struggled, sometimes coming close to escape, sometimes beating against the glass. It must have been so hot in that well, with the sun pouring in.

I did everything I could think of to rescue her. I climbed the ladder into the loft, hung over the rail with a broom, hoping she would accept a ride to safely. I could barely reach the well and could hear, but not see her. I could just reach into the well with the broom and my numbing extended arm, and three times in six hours I actually pulled her toward me as she clutched the straw end of the broom. Slowly, carefully pulled her toward me, hoping I could just get her close enough to catch her in my hand, as I have so many times with other birds in easier rooms. This day, though, just as she was almost within reach, the light drew her back into the well. I couldn’t think of what I could reach her with from the floor, from a chair, from a stepladder, but I didn’t have anything. The glass in the well is maybe 24 feet from the floor.

Meanwhile I took some time to rest my arm and read up on how long a Hummer can survive such stress without water, without rest. I was surprised to learn that a tiny bird, which might weigh as much as a nickel, can actually STARVE in four hours. The little bird did somehow rest a bit, hanging onto something I couldn’t see. Caulking, maybe, against the hot glass. I expected her to fall at any time.

I left the door open, hoping the male might return and lure her to safety, when I was so clearly failing, but he didn’t come back a third time and I never heard his buzz outside the door again.

Finally, I gave up, defeated. I left the outside door open, as well as my bedroom door, in case, by some miracle, she came into the room with a reasonable ceiling where I could pick her out of the air and release her outside. But the light held her and I fell asleep, exhausted.

When I woke, it was the beginning of dusk and she was gone. Somehow the fading light had released her and she found her way out, still alive. I closed the doors and pressed ‘send’ for a net with the long, extendable handle I had found on the web. Next time I’ll be prepared.

Meanwhile, here’s my advice to all small, slightly drab birds: If you choose to follow a brightly dressed fellow into danger, please ignore all bright lights and follow him back to safely if you can’t find your own way out.

One last note: Thirty years ago when I was living on Waldron Island, one of the resident cats brought a Rufous Hummingbird into the house. His wing was injured and he couldn’t fly but was otherwise fine. He stayed on as my housemate for a couple of months. I read then that baby Hummingbirds are raised by single mothers who build their miniscule nests alone, and hunt for the tiny insects that keep the babies alive.

So why was the pair flying together in late summer, so long after mating and child-rearing season? Can’t she remember that Hummingbirds are very glamorous, but make rotten husbands and fathers?