MONKEY WRENCH : Yesterday was one of those days. Booked to the gills, with work starting at 6 a.m., plus multiple other Zoom meetings, a Tacoma round trip, a White Center run. It was a schedule with no wiggle room whatsoever.
Things got more complicated at 9:06 a.m. when CJ walked in the back door (after taking our dogs out) and announced, "There's a bird on the patio."
I was rushing to get a cup of coffee between meetings and brusquely respond, "Yeah, there are usually about 20 birds out there." (We have two busy bird feeders.)
"But this one's on the ground. I think it's hurt," CJ implored.
"Aw geez, just what I need," I think, heading out to the patio. I look around and say, "I don't see him."
"He's over there," CJ pointed.
I still couldn't see any damn bird.
"Here!" he said, walking over to a tiny greyish brown blob near the edge of the patio. Even with my glasses on, I thought it was a dirt clod. But it was pulsating. And it had a long, thin beak.
"Oh no. That's a hummingbird," I sighed and then swore. "Dammit. This is not on the schedule."
The hummer's eyes were closed and he was barely able to remain upright. I put a little patio table over the injured bird to keep the rain off him, told CJ I *had* to get to a Zoom meeting, and asked him to start doing the Google to figure out what we were supposed to do with this poor creature.
CJ enlisted Annabelle's help, and they learned they should put the injured bird in a shoebox with a towel on the bottom, that it should be placed in a warm, dry place, and that he needed to be fed frequently.
CJ and I had to head to Tacoma, so Annabelle gently collected the hummer, placed him in his temporary shelter (a shoebox from Annabelle's closet), and she babysat the bird for a couple of hours.
I wasn't able to get back home until noon. Upon arrival, I was so happy to see that our little patient looked ever-so-much better! No longer a gray blob, he had all his beautiful humming bird colors! He was hopping about his box and eagerly eating from the feeder!
Annabelle had done some research and after SO MANY calls, located a vet/wildlife rehab center who would accept the patient. The address was in Kent - which isn't too terribly far from us - 20 minutes or so, I surmised.
About 1 p.m., we loaded into the car and I punched the address into Waze - egad! The center was actually up in the Cascadian foothills in the little town of Black Diamond, some 45 minutes away.
I sighed and then swore. "Dammit. This is NOT on the schedule."
But what's one to do when a sweet little hummer is depending on you for its very survival? Well, you drive the bird to Black Diamond, that's what you do.
During the car ride, our little charge was feeling so much better, he actually managed to crawl out of a little hole in the shoebox. :0 Fortunately, Annabelle was able to scoop him up and return him to his cardboard recovery center.
We were very happy to hand the hummer off to the kind folks at Puget Sound WildCare. They immediately whisked him away to warm, safe confines, and reported he was already eating more.
I suppose we'll never know what happens next to that fine feathered fellow, but we do know that he didn't suffer a miserable death, drenched, cold, and alone, on our patio.
Last night, a friend told me Aztecs believed that hummingbirds were the souls of warriors who died with honor while fighting.
Though it was not on the schedule, I'm happy we were able to help that little soul yesterday.
