It was Saturday evening about 9pm on July 17, 2021. The patio light was on as I walked into the unlit dining room turning my head toward the open window. Then, stopping frozen in my tracks, I see a hummingbird with it's round little belly pressing into the window screen, hanging on with it's tiny feet. My heart blew open at the sight of him. I assumed it was dying; either sick, wounded or a 7 year old since they generally have a lifespan of 7 years. Moving slowly and quietly as not to startle him, opening the door, I stepped onto the patio. He got startled anyway and fell into my running shoe sitting there on a chair beneath him.
I don't remember at what point I started talking to him hoping to soothe this wondrous creature we all love. I'm referring to him as a male because of the bright neon red spot on it's throat. At 'the' moment I thought, ooh it would be bad if he flew into my house, he did. It wasn't the normal energetic flight of a buzzing hummingbird, rather a slow circle round the living room as I called out, better to come back out here. And he did. From there a couple attempts and he perched on a low soft branch. He looked gray, the gray of the dying.
Pulling up a chair to stand atop, taking down a feeder to see if he would eat, I slowly and carefully got myself down on the concrete floor close to him. Talking softly, I held the food to him. His little head literally fell down to the feeding hole and rested there. He's exhausted. It was sad watching him as I continued sending him love and healing energy and asking for help as I always do. We sat there together, me holding the feeder up to him from time to time, for maybe 45 minutes, his eyes never closing. He couldn't really relax so I moved away slowly, standing up.
I cringed at the thought of leaving him there, what do I do? I put a box down with the feeder on top but it wasn't high enough. I got my dictionary, covering it with a paper towel, ignoring the thought that said, put it in a plastic bag. At least the book was thick enough so the feeder hole lined up to this darling's long beak. I went inside.
It's now 10:15pm and there was no way I could go to bed without doing a formal distant healing session. Preparing myself, I lit the candles, called in helpers, and sat there in my living room for an hour, healing this baby jewel. Here was my intention; to restore and renew it's life. There are no guarantees as life is an experiment, so I hoped for the best since hope is the initiator of all life.
It's 11:25pm. I'm watching him from the window now. He's fluttering around and taking a drink here and there. I'm going to bed.
Five hours later about 5am I suddenly woke flying up into the air, at least it felt like that, cause thunder and lightening has come into my bedroom, well, very close. Now, I love storms and this is the first 'proper' storm I'm experiencing since moving here 5 years ago, but, holy crap!! Jumping out of bed after several more claps of shaking thunder and lightening streaming through the window, My Hummingbird?! There he was on it's perch underneath a large plumeria leaf protecting it from the rain, well, partially. He's looking pretty drenched. The storm raged on til I don't know 6am or 6:30am. He made it through the storm!
I fell back to sleep by 7am getting three more hours of needed sleep. I was feeling pensive when trust is what I was needing. Did he die or did he fly away? Trepidation. I went outside and didn't see him. Looking around all the leaves and rose bushes, the jungle I call a garden, even looking inside the shoe I placed under him in case he fell he'd be caught. No. Nothing. He flew away!! Thank You!!
The feeder I placed before him had sunk and emptied into my dictionary, now pinkish red with the dented box sopped with rain. So that's why my intuition said, put a plastic bag around your dictionary.
Today I see a red-throated hummingbird coming to feed from the two feeders hanging there. I'm wondering if it's the same one. I'm choosing to believe it is!