The yearly hummingbird arrived

Every year, at least once guaranteed, a hummingbird will fly into the porch or the house and get stuck. It happens every year without fail.

Today was that day this year.

I had just come in from jumping on the trampoline out back to fill up my water bottle. I’ve got it half filled when mom starts yelling. I freeze up, looking for whatever it is mom is yelling about. Something zips over my head, bonking itself on our recently-repainted, textured ceiling.

It was a little female Ruby-throated Hummingbird.

So mom’s running to grab the gloves and the brooms while I’m walking between the living room and the kitchen, keeping track of it. The living room ceiling fan was instantly shut off to protect it. Once we had our tools, we began what we always do in this situation–hold the brooms close to the ceiling and attempt (poorly) to corral the (panicking) hummingbird to the front door, through the porch, and out the door back into the outdoors.

We run around, corralling this poor bird for almost ten minutes, stopping to let it land on the kitchen light a few times to rest so it didn’t drop dead from stress. There were many, many, many failed attempts to get it to the porch door. Mom is frustrated, I’m tired, and the bird is probably thinking it was going to get squished any second now.

Then it lands on mom’s broom.

With my broom hovered over hers, we shove it into the porch and close the house door. One room down, one left. The porch has a lower ceiling, making it much easier to reach. Unfortunately, mom’s craft and work junk is piled everywhere so maneuverability is extremely difficult.

With the insect netting torn from the porch door for a clean exit, we again corral the hummingbird toward the open door to freedom. This takes about two minutes and a dozen failed attempts before it (again) lands on mom’s broom. It then zipped outside and landed on mom’s clothesline for her tie-dye shirts.

Mom and I are standing there, holding our brooms out in the hopes of preventing it from coming back in. It preens its shoulder, shakes off, and then flies across the yard and into the woods.

The insect netting it put back up, the gloves are returned to the work bench in the garage, and the brooms go back in the closet. Business as usual again.

At least I have the perfect excuse to avoid going outside to finish jumping. I’m tired as heck…

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