Hummingbird Lessons

It was a sad day in our house today. We found a dead hummingbird in our garage. I am pretty sure the bird got stuck in the garage, we closed it and the bird couldn't get out, fell to the ground in exhaustion and either died or I (I have a really hard time telling the next part) unwittingly ran over it. Let's just say the girls, including me, were really sad all evening. We had another hummingbird experience last week that actually brought on some real epiphanies for me.

A hummingbird flew into our garage and managed to get itself confused and stuck. I watched as it banged itself into the window over and over again. I tried to shoo that bird out, I tried to show it the large escape out the garage door opening and the back garage door. That stupid bird just flapped its wings even faster and whizzed away from me bumping its tiny head against the ceiling of the garage. I just kept thinking "You stupid bird. Can't you see the way out? It is right there. I tried to gently nudge that bird with a broom pole until my arm felt like it was going to fall off. I kept thinking "look down, I can help you." Finally, that bird found it's way out of the garage. I thought he had learned his lesson but oh no he returned a few minutes later, lured by the red dangling rope of the garage door opener I learned later.

I knew that bird had not found something to eat in the few moments it had ventured outside the garage. A hummingbird's high metabolism and outrageously fast heart rate requires it to eat or drink often. When that crazy bird flew back in the garage I really started to worry. I knew that bird could not survive for long and as it started its worrisome attempt to escape, ignoring all help. We offered it the hummingbird feeder to perch on and butterfly bush flowers, but its fear would not allow it to notice the outstretched hands of its salvation. In fact our proffered help actually made the bird more manic. At one point I left the garage thinking that bird has to help itself. But as the minutes ticked by my little heart could not bear the imminent doom. "You stupid bird," I kept thinking. "Why won't you let me help you. That bird had to rest a few times and perched itself in some pretty wierd places. Eventually, we saw the bird start to fly in an ever descending spiral. I knew that bird was going to fall and it came to a sliding exhausted fall on the cement floor. Rebecca and I scooped it up in my giant sun hat. Rebecca ran and filled the hummingbird feeder. We placed that bird outside on the lawn on the hummingbird feeder. I thought that bird was a goner. I tried to pour out the juice for the bird but it just sat there panting. Eventually, it miraculously regained its strength and flew over the house as if drunk. The next few days, I am positive I saw that recovered bird. And I am pretty sure it is not the same bird that was killed today.

That was a dramatic morning for us and while I was trying to help that beloved stupid bird, I realized something about myself. I have been that hummingbird lately. Struggling with my own spirituality, I have flown manically in the wrong direction, never noticing the outstretched hands of my Savior, offering to bring me to safety and to him. I have been so busy buzzing from one duty to the next that I have forgotten to pray and read my scriptures. Like that hummingbird I need frequent spiritual nourishment and I was feeling empty because I was ignoring the opportunities to drink and be filled. I felt empathy for that silly bird because I finally understood. The loss of a different hummingbird was quite a blow to me today. Rebecca pointed out that our new garage arrangement has several bright red lures for the bird. How often are we lured into dangerous territory by something that is not what it seems?

I originally meant to write a very well-written essay on this hummingbird experience, but the untimely death of the bird today nudged me to get my thoughts down on paper, no matter how random they may be.