They do the Impossible—and so can we!
A year ago I wrote a blog entitled “Hummingbird Chronicles.” This year again, the cold of a Whidbey Island winter has proven challenging to the local cadre of tiny Anna’s hummingbirds who chose not to migrate, but spend the winter in our neighborhood, dependent on our sugar water feeders. As most of our winter temperatures hover above the freezing point, this is a challenging, but manageable, existence for both birds and bird lovers.
Male Anna’s hummingbird, photo by Bonnie Rae Nygren (bonnierae@braenstorm.com)
I am deeply inspired by the physical capabilities, the reasoning power, and the sheer will to live of our overwintering hummers. They have inspired me to a new level of political action, but more on that later. First, their amazing story.
Midday on February 9, temperatures had barely reached above freezing, Christina was stacking wood on the front porch for our nightly fire. She heard rustling in the skylight above her head. Looking up, she saw two hummingbirds flying repeatedly against the skylight, trying to escape through the recessed window—their only source of light.
Together we launched a plan. (Together is the operative word here and key to post- hummingbird activism.)
- Cover the skylight so it is dark and they don’t seek to fly to the light. (We never go on the roof without one or the other of us holding the ladder.)
Ann darkening the skylight to discourage hummers from constantly flying up against the glass
- Place a hummingbird feeder on the top of a step stool right under the skylight to lure them down to eat and fly away.
The lure: a hummingbird feeder atop a step ladder underneath the skylight where the birds are trapped
- I sat inside the house with my eye trained to the feeder. Honestly, I was skeptical. It is so entrained in bird’s brains to fly up, how would one go against instinct?
- Within an hour one of them came down and drank and drank the sugar water off and on for at least ten minutes. Revived, it flew off to a nearby perch. Opening the window, I could hear it calling to its little friend still up in the skylight.
Looking through the window and screen at the first little hummer chosing its freedom
- But the second one remained up in the skylight, sporadically battering its little body against the skylight determined to get out. Temperatures dropped below freezing at the end of the day. Whatever its scarce reserve energy, dusk signaled it to enter torpor. (In the winter, hummingbirds slow their high revving body metabolism WAY down and enter a mini hibernation that gets them through the night. Imagine this tiny body, smaller in size than your pinky finger and weighing less than a marshmallow, able to initiate its own near-death experience, and revive from it in dawn light, day after day for months. This is torpor.)
- At dawn I shined a flashlight into the skylight and saw her body crunched into a corner, barely upright. Christina climbed on the ladder while I held it. She used an extendable feather duster to gently knock the hummer from her 12-foot-high perch. My assignment was to stand on the ladder and catch her to break the effect of such a long fall.
Ann positioning things to be able to gently knock the hummer in its deep state of torpor off the skylight ledge
- She landed in my hands, bounced off and landed on the pavers. I was heartbroken. She had endured the terrible strain of a cold night followed by a 12-foot (3.66 meter) fall.
- I picked the little frozen body up in my bare, warm hands. Her body was stone cold, but I sent energy to her, prayed her little being to wake up. We weren’t sure it was possible.
Ann’s warm hands gently cradling the near frozen hummingbird, moving its beak toward a drop of sugar water.
- After a bit, I felt her little feet twitch on my palm. Then her beak started to open and close. Christina got an eye dropper and some sugar water.
- She put a drop of sugar water on the tip of her finger. I carefully moved my cupped hand over to where the hummer’s beak touched the drop of sugar water. The beak opened and her thread-thin tongue flicked out to suck the nectar.
- She repeated the movement a half dozen times. By now her eyes were open and we were hopeful. Still, she had had nothing to eat for nearly 24 hours in very cold temperatures for her little nickel-weight body.
- We decided to place the hummingbird feeder inside a 5-gallon bucket and set her down inside the bucket on the rim of the feeder so she could easily feast. She had enough strength to sit up and wrap her tiny feet around the feeder rim.
Inside the 5 gallon bucket incubator we improvised for the cold little hummer—her very own feeder.
- We put a lid on our improvised incubator and brought it inside to warm for several hours.
- Mid-morning, we took the bucket out on the front sidewalk and hoped to get a photo of her sitting on the feeder. No photo op! This bird was ready for freedom. We lifted the lid and out she zoomed—a quick circle and then straight up in the air in victory salute. “Yahoo!” we simultaneously shouted!
The hummingbird incubator moments before the release to freedom!
Two impossible things these hummingbirds accomplished—at least impossible from my perspective as an amateur birder:
- Hummer #1—Used reasoning to fly downward to find food and escape.
- Hummer #2—Came back to life after exhaustion, deprivation, and torpor.
If these tiniest members of the bird world can accomplish such feats in the darkest hours of winter, we choose to believe that American democracy is not dead, and that the American people are capable of waking from torpor, to rise, speak out, and turn the tide toward lengthening light.
There was nothing “special” about these hummingbirds. They were not ninja hummers, buff from hours at the gym. They were not media-informed by The Hummingbird Times, nor able to google “how to get out of a sky-light well.” Two ordinary/extraordinary little beings who each did the best they could with the decisions they made in the situation they encountered. We are also ordinary/extraordinary little people doing the best we can making decisions in the situations we now encounter. And we have help—like we provided help. Huge forces are moving through this time in the world. Help is being provided, and our job is to notice and change our habituated patterns to find our way out. We can make it through the night, and when exhausted—the larger pattern of these times will warm and cup our revival.
Never forget the power of two small hummingbirds!! We can go beyond what we think is possible. We shall.
Finding joy in the ordinary, day to day of life in nature is a radical act that will get us through these times.
Oh, Ann! This is so hysterically wonderful and inspiring! You two are remarkable. Here’s to a hummingbird leader in every (strangely conceived) feeder!
Thank you, dear one! To a leader in every chair (slot), indeed! Ann
Thank you, Ann! Just what I needed to hear!
Especially leaning now into the great evolutionary forces that await our collaborative courage. Am signing every possible petition I can, and calling elected leaders every day!… Like little sips of sweet water that will get us to an even incarnation of democracy. Trusting all the helpers!
Totally in your camp, Gabe! Doing everything I know to do and on high alert for other possible actions. And leaning into what is happening locally. Ann
I wonder if this is the Gabriele Uhlein that new my sister (Marge St.Clair) while in the Wheaton area??
Yes, indeed, she is the same wonderful human! Ann
Amen! You go, little hummers…
Yes, indeed and you go, Annabel! Ann
Hi to you both:
I haven’t seen Christina since her journaling workshop at Hollyhock, and I’ve never meet Ann. I do follow your blogs and writings though. The entry today about your amazing heart-felt hummingbird rescue left me weepy. And the reasons are many, but mostly because few people would even be aware enough to notice the plight of a little bird. And secondly, once noticed, how many would think through what was required and actually put in the effort to make this rescue successful? Sadly, in today’s world, close to zero. I would though, and my dear husband would help. But very few would initiate any of this. That’s why I felt so weepy reading your saga. Today, especially, we need this kind of awareness and care, for each other and for our world. Thank you, thank you, for leading the way.
Dear Kit, With appreciation for your thoughtful comment and it is wonderful to know that you and your husband would have worked side by side with us figuring out what to do. Kinship with the wild ones. Thank you, Ann
Oh, Anne, what a wonderful story and inspiration for all of us holing up in our own little dark corners. May we receive the light and nourishment of good people, and may we even be the light in our own corners. Love to you both!
That is the thing, Mary Ann—to be the light in our own little corners. And I know you do that! Ann
Ann, I just love this story of courage and tenacity! These humming birds in your yard are teaching us just by living what they know to do. Sometimes they seem to say, just hold on and build your strength before doing anything else, and sometimes they show that taking flight (action) is a must for survival. Thanks little and mighty birds for showing us the way at this very moment in time when any wisdom and advice is gratefully welcomed. Thanks for this beautiful and heartfelt story, thanks for yours and Christina’s tenacity and care for these beautiful creatures that we are blessed to have on this earth with us. And thanks for sharing this story – it brought a welcomed smile as well as a feeling of trust that support is there so hold on to hope, and always! Nice to see your faces. Joy will keep us going all for sure.
Dear Jeanne, Wonderful to read your thoughtful reflections, to have you mirror so many of the teachings of these marvelous little birds. The lessons are everywhere for us if we take the time to notice and respond with care. Ann
I’m in tears. Thank you for being the kind of people who will devote the time and creativity to saving a tiny life. Yes, there is still hope.
Very poignant to read from you, Laura, when you are working with your daughter to nurture another tiny life coming to bring joy into the world. Ann
The two of you are magical in so many ways!❣️
Thank you, Karyl, but it isn’t really us who are magical. It is our little hummingbird friends!
What a wonderful story of fortitude on the part of the little hummingbirds! We how have snow and temperatures around freezing. I haven’t recently seen the hummingbirds that fly by our windows. Keep the faith!
Yes, dear Sandy! We must keep the faith and there are any number of teachers around us to help us do so. Ann
I loved this story! After a few days of (my version of) torpor myself, it inspired me to get back to work and send out messages to inspire others in the work we have ahead! Thank you, Ann and Christina, for a most needed burst of joy. In the coldest winter here in New Hampshire in over a decade, there will be a spring!
Ah, Meredith, indeed there will be a spring! (And for our Australian, African, and southeastern Asian friends, relief will come from the summer heat in the form of fall.) The world keeps turning. The seasons keep changing. And in this time of great unpredictability in the human world, that constancy is great comfort indeed! And so, we carryon!
Great story of the power of two…for the greater good of the smallest among us!
Love you two!
Love right back to you, Terry! Yes, there is great power in two and more than two. Community will be our answer going forward. Ann
You two are amaZing! Great story. Sometimes we’re the hummingbird, sometimes we’re the helper. We will make it through the night.
Yes, my friend, we will make it through the night! Ann
You know I love hummingbirds. Thank you for the lengths you went to save two. Let us go to the lengths together.
Yes, let us go to great lengths to reach out to each other in kindness and helpfulness all the days of our lives. Ann
thank you so very much.
You are welcome, Larry!
Love this! And yes. No giving up, only lifting up and taking flight.
And you, my friend, know a whole lot about not giving up! Thank you.
Thank you, Ann! This is so inspiring!
You are most welcome, Anna. And thank YOU for all the ways you are inspiring the Wilderness Guides Council to keep conversing every month with our Ukrainian colleagues! Now that is an important piece of activism!
What an inspiring story, Ann! I love the images. And appreciate that you and Christina knew just how to collaborate with that little Being. Every tiny heart matters! ❣️
Well said, my friend. Every tiny heart matters a whole lot!
I love this story that parallels the time we are in as a world. What is not to love about a hummingbird and their resilience. Ours will return come April and we too have had a colder than average winter in Ontario Canada with up to 30cm of snow forecasted this weekend. Thank you as always for your beautiful stories and caring for all our relations.
One of many things I treasure in reader’s comments is that they bring in the perspective of many places and perspectives. There is profound teaching that comes from many readers. Thank you for taking the time to write! And as a Canadian friend, please keep believing that you have many, many Americans in complete shock at the treatment you are receiving from a few loud voices in our government. We remain your friends! Ann
Bravo! And may the good people of this country do what you say is possible. Earlier this week I was visiting my good friend and she showed me a tiny hummingbird’s nest being built on top of a tiny lamp— part of a string of decorative lights. It’s been really cold in Santa Barbara with rain storms (thankfully) and I recalled your story from a year ago. She said she would keep the lights on to warm it’s nest. You both are such smart women with joy filling your hearts. Bless you, Cheryl
Dear Cheryl, Love reading about your friend’s hummingbird already building a nest. Spring will find its way north!And also grateful that California is finally getting rain! Ann
Great story, Ann and Christina! It gives me strength to face the reality of life unfolding and to never give up the “knowing” what is right and ethical. Holding the circle faithfully and lovingly. Thank you for creating this strong vessel called the Circle. The hummingbirds are a beautiful sight on a dreary day. Love, Diane
Yes, Diane, we must never give up knowing what is right and ethical. And we must be prepared to stand up and speak truth to power. And I know you do that in your role as an elder in your community. Thank you!Ann
That’s the best Valentine’s Day story I’ve ever heard, Ann! I live further north on Vancouver Island with family and friends of your Anna hummingbirds, and we have a heated hummingbird feeder to keep the sugarwater from freezing. I am humbled by the intelligence that far exceeds the size of these tiny little birds They warm up by the heated section before eating and my heart melts when they buzz around me recognizing that when I appear there’ll be fresh sugarwater.
How lucky you, Christina and we are to be of service to hummingbirds.
Thank you, Alma, for your service to these fierce, beautiful little creatures. We, too, have a heated feeder to keep the water from freezing. And when temps are cold for a prolonged period, I also put a cut up wool sock over the upright glass section of the feeder to further insulate it. Never seems to deter the hummers if I change feeder types, put a sock on for insulation. They know how to find the magic little holes that deliver their sugar water.
This story is so delightful and inspiring! Thank you for sharing it. Nature is full of lessons for us. We can do hard and impossible things, indeed. I am currently reading a book titled What If We Get It Right by Ayana Elizabeth Johnson and it is full of stories of people working toward what feels like the impossible task of envisioning the world we want to create in the midst of climate change and environmental crisis. We can all make a difference in our own way. You two certainly made a difference to those little hummers. xoxo
Thank you, Glenda. Will definitely look up Ayana Elizabeth Johnson’s book. I know you know a lot about nature’s lessons. With respect, Ann
Deeply grateful for this story…the wild wisdom and ingenuity…compassion…initiative toward mutual flourishing! Yes and yes!
With appreciation for your kind words. And, yes, to mutual flourishing! Ann
Oh, Ann, I just love this! Your story resonated in so many ways. I have a story of my own about a “hummingbird rescue” but I have never known the experience of holding a sweet feathered creature in my hand. This moved me deeply, both in a practical and metaphorical sense. Thank you both for being so present, so helpful, so nurturing and so kind in the world 💜
Thank you, Bonnie Rae, both for your comments and the use of your beautiful photo. Sometimes your bird photos are so exquisite and so close up they make me FEEL like I am holding or at least sitting beside the little wild creature. Ann
Your post was moving, and its connection to what is possible for us, inspiring. I was reminded of the time I sat outside very early one morning in June and heard a shrieking cacophony of birds. Investigating, I discovered a fledgling Bluejay surrounded by Magpies, ready for the kill. I startled them away and gently took the Jay into my hands. In shock, I held it close to my chest and then moved to sit in the rising sun hoping its warmth would revive the bird. After several minutes, the bird stirred and then flew off. All summer, a Jay would fly by my kitchen window, sometimes perching on the fence of our dog run, in plain site while I cooked. I like to believe – and have no reason not to – that Jay was coming back to let me know it was thriving. As must we…
Dear Katharine! Thank you for this exquisitely told story. There is no doubt in my mind that the Jay was coming back to let you know it was thriving. And thrive we will! Together in encouragement and action. Bless you, Ann