We had an unexpected guest a couple of weeks ago. Don and I were downstairs in the afternoon when we heard one of Barley's rare barks, loud and deep, and we went running up the stairs, expecting to see someone at the door. No one was there, and we forgot about it until after dinner, when Don saw the cause of Barley's alarm.
A female hummingbird was buzzing methodically back and forth in front of the high windows, as if mowing some invisible lawn; she must have flown in earlier through the front door, unnoticed, and she looked exhausted.
We opened the sliding glass door and hot air rushed in, but the little bird didn't notice that freedom was only a few feet away. The problem was, she kept flying toward the light from the high windows, and she needed to come down to get through the door.
She came down briefly, twice, perching on my shoulder, tugging my heartstrings, but flew up again before we could help her. Finally, Don grabbed the closest broom, and I held it near her, bristles up. She quickly latched on to one of the bristles with her tiny feet and hung on while I moved the broom down gingerly until it was in front of the open door. She didn't need to think twice, but zipped out the door and into the freedom of the wild blue.
I'm trying to take a lesson from my small feathered friend-- to wait and trust, and when I need help, to take what's offered. I also need to remember, when Barley barks, it means something.