Yesterday, while walking to my car I noticed a moth-like figure flying low to the ground crash into my mail kiosk. Curious, I decided to investigate further, and upon closer inspection I realized that this creature was not a moth but a hummingbird. A beautiful, injured hummingbird.
It was the first time that I was able to come so close to a hummingbird for that extended length of time. I had no idea what was wrong with the bird but observed that it kept on moving its head up and down like it was choking on something. Originally, I mistook the little stick coming out from its beak, which I later learned was its tongue, for a food particle that he was choking on. Yes, as you can obviously tell, I am in no way qualified to give you any diagnosis of the hummingbird's problem. All I can tell you is that it couldn't fly properly and looked like it was suffering greatly.
I stared at it for about 10 minutes because I wasn't sure what to do. I was too afraid to approach it because it was making erratic movements, and I was afraid it was going to peck me rapidly and hurt my hand. I did not want to scare it and put it into any more panic than it was already in. Eventually it kept on moving further and further towards the center of the street, so I ended up kneeling down by it to make sure that no one would run over it.
Helena, having planned to come to my house beforehand, ended up coming about 10 minutes after I discovered the bird. Together, we moved it to the side of the street, and eventually Helena and my dad crafted a sort of box, hummingbird habit-y thing out of plants, a FedEx box, Saran wrap, and crumpled up tissue paper. My dad also made some sort of nectar concoction that Helena fed to the hummingbird using the tip of a chopstick. While they were busy accomplishing the above activities, I aided them as well as searched online for wildlife rehabilitation centers around the area. I finally found a lady who specialized in hummingbirds and gave her a call. She said she lived in Lomita and that she was about to go the store and would call us back when she returned.
Helena and I prepared the box and were ready to go to her house even though she didn't give us her address. As we were heading in the general direction of her house, however, the bird ceased to breath and died in (the box in) Helena's arms. I called the lady as soon as Helena noticed the bird's stillness, and she told us she had just come back from the store. We described the symptoms to her and all she could do to us in return was ask us if we had a place to bury the bird.
It was a scarring experience to say the least. The bird was so full of life, drinking the nectar, fluttering its wings around.. and then all the sudden while I was driving, Helena started freaking out.
Eyes closed and body completely still. It was all too quick to believe.
Poor hummingbird. I suggested naming the bird "Felt". Helena suggested some Native American name options. I am deciding right now that I am going to name the deceased bird "Fate".
I will dedicate a poem to Fate later this week. RIP Fate
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