Monday, March 9, 2009

Hummingbird Alive


He or she was tiny and delicate.

A ruby throated iridescent green-feathered hummingbird, not more than an inch and a half long and not even a half-inch wide slammed into a picture window and dropped to the ground. It quivered and throbbed as its body tried to recover from the head-on trauma.

Watching the process of recovery, I think human concern and a sadness of helplessness increases exponentially with the smallness of the creature. I’m sure it’s a subconscious protective reaction of something so small, but one of genuine concern.

This little creature was obviously hurting. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do. I knew it was alive because of its miniature movements, but I didn't know if it would live.

I also knew from other bird strikes against glass that sometimes these delicate creatures survive and you have to give them time to recover without triggering their instinctive fear and natural avoidance of human closeness. You also have to fight the desire and need to run and pick them up to comfort and try to cure with concern.

I watched the stunned and disoriented bird for a while. Hoping it would survive. I mentally struggled with it to stay in life. In many ways you become one with the bird and give it a human consciousness or at least an awareness and desire to survive.

It seemed like a long time, but finally it raised its head off the concrete where it had fallen and moved around a little and stretched and fluttered its wings and then with a little more rest it flew away.

There is no other word for my reaction other than “rejoice”.

Little "creature beings" have a profound effect on our lives if we let them. Look at the joy that puppies engender or the comfort felt from a purring kitten. How about the sound of a morning songbird as we stand in the warming and awakening light of dawn or the awe of a Bald Eagle in flight?

I thank the All That Is for these great gifts and on this morning especially for the life of a tiny hummingbird.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I think we're all like the hummingbird at the moment. We've slammed into something most of us didn't see, now lying stunned on the pavement, hoping for recovery. I don't know about everyone else, but I'm starting to flap my wings again. Hope you are too. But still, take a plane home. No sense wearing yourself out. Sue

 
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