We rescued an injured bird from our front yard. Sometime overnight, in the comfort of a Costco trash bag cardboard box, she died.
And now I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life.
The only other encounter that I have had similar to this one took place while house sitting for a friend. Upon entering her home, I heard an odd sound: a thwap, thwap, thwapping coming from the kitchen. A very distraught hummingbird was desperately trying to get out from whence she came. Back to her people. Home.
Retrieving a broom from the closet, I tried to guide her out through one of the open windows. During this process, she whacked herself so hard she stopped moving. Immediately, I began to cry, “Well THAT sucks. And also this is a very bad omen.”
I called Tom, snorting into the phone, “She’s not moving babe, I think she’s dead.” There was a pause, and I realized it’s never okay to start a conversation in this way, so I clarified by saying, “I think I killed a hummingbird in Christy’s kitchen.”
Certainly this was much better news.
Just then, she popped her little head up like Lazarus. “OMG! She’s NOT dead! She’s ALIVE!” I screamed at Tom. I held the broom steady horizontally, assisting her onto the bristles. Moving at iceberg speed, it looked like I was placing a pizza into an oven with a long handled paddle in slow motion. Finally, she took flight, and I screamed out stupid stuff to Tom, “She made it! She is going home. Home to her people.” He listened patiently, as he does to my crazy.
I also said stupid stuff to “Chirp” our overnight, now dead, resident.
Watching her gingerly hop around off balance, it was clear her wing was broken, her little chest heaving, I told her, “You have fight left in you. That’s good. Keep fighting.” I even said good night to her before my head hit the pillow. Upon waking, she was the first thing on my mind.
“Tom, she didn’t make it,” I shared with my still sleeping husband. “We are not just going to throw her out. We need to bury her.” My husband sat up in bed, looking at me, like he has done many times before, knowing a garbage can burial was out of the question, and said, “I think under the Japanese Maple will be a good spot where she won’t be disturbed.”
Yes, let’s let her rest in peace under the Japanese Maple. We can do that for her.
RIP Chirp