Hummingbird Hospital Part 3

The weather was kind in the two weeks the hummingbird was confined to the tent, no nasty wind or lightning storms, and I was able to leave her out around the clock to heal and feed and catch gnats in the air. Each day I sprayed her enclosure down with a fine mist from the hose, and she bathed on wet leaves and drank water from the netting. I’ve found hummingbirds in captivity to be most appreciative of opportunities to bathe.

Everyone was curious about the little captive, including the hummingbirds around the yard, who'd hover, eye to eye with her. This little male kept an eye on her from the porch.

She defended her feeders with swoops and chitters, even though nobody could get inside.

One afternoon as I was changing her feeder, a curious cardinal stopped to peek inside. I took this from inside the tent.

Chet Baker was fascinated by the tent, and always wanted to accompany me in when I’d come to photograph her. He remembered it from when we’d had phoebes in it, and he remembered how to get in if Mether forgot to leave the flap open for him. The little dog will not be denied.

I must lay my ears back to prepare my entrance.

Hello Mether. It is me, Chet Baker. Do not get up to unzip the tent. I know how to do it by myself.

It must be nice for you to have such an intelligent companion, who seeks you out wherever you go, and is so smart, sleek and agile. The hummingbird does not like me, but then she does not like you, either. So here I am.

There's your Chet Baker fix, and one for me too. I have now been without him for nine days, but who's counting? I am about desperate enough to run down a red-rumped agouti here in Trinidad and kiss it right on the lips. Still, there are tremendous benefits to being at the Asa Wright Nature Center. Hawk eagle, manakin, oilbird, cake.

Hummingbird Hospital Part 2

The injured hummingbird was feeding herself a much more wholesome preparation of Nektar-Plus by Tuesday afternoon, and when I saw her hobble over to the feeder and insert her bill for the first time, I smiled and said, “You can stay as long as you need to, as long as you can do that.”

She tried to fly, little buzzing sorties against the tank walls, and as she fussed it became clear that she had problems beyond simple starvation and exhaustion. Her head tilted to the right, and when she tired, she wound up in a heap again, tail spread, wings out, lying on her belly. It would be awhile before I’d know if she’d be releasable.

She was to spend nine days fretting in her tank, so excitable that I had to keep her in the back bedroom during the day lest she buzz and buzz herself to exhaustion. Her injury was a concussion with brain swelling, probably from banging her head on a ceiling while trying to find a way out of the chemical plant. She had trouble using her right foot, and her head canted well over to the right.



But the tilt lessened day by day, and when she was able to hold it straight most of the time, she graduated to the soft nylon flight tent that I’ve used for several other hummingbirds and most notably for six chimney swifts and a pair of orphaned phoebes. Available from Campmor, 17 x 19 x 7’, and intended to keep mosquitoes and flies off the picnic site, It’s the best $100 I’ve ever spent.

She was very happy to have more space, and happiest of all to see the pots of flowers I had moved into the tent before releasing her.
You can see her hovering right over my head just after release. I haven't even hung up her feeder yet.

She took right to the Million Bells petunias, the blue Laurentia, my peach hibiscus named Mary Alice, and the upright fuchsia called Gartenmeister. When she’d drained them of nectar, she came back for her Nektar-Plus.

Here, Phoebe and Liam wait excitedly for the moment of release. First we must zip the sides closed!