A Winged Pager

In my 11 years of bird rescue I can't ever recall encountering a live Ruby-throated Hummingbird. Then last August 29th, I found three.

All three had hit the shiny walls of Consilium Place; all three were in shock. Two of the hummers were found lying on their bellies with their scale-like feathers all puffed out. At first glance I thought the third one was dead. His eyes were closed, his feathers flattened to his body. But as I picked him up his eyes popped open and he raised his head. He put up no struggle.

I knew he was a juvenile male from the forked tail and the hint of ruby on his throat. I dropped a few tissues into a paper bag, gently placed him on the makeshift bed and left him in my car while I continued my rounds.

Every time I returned to drop off another bird, I would listen for movement in the bags. My juvenile and the other two hummers were silent. But when I peeked into his bag, the youngster would look up at me. I decided to take all three to the Toronto Wildlife Centre but as I drove away I heard a weak buzzing sound. At first I thought it was my vibrating pager. Then I realized that the young hummingbird was flying around inside his bag. I dropped off the other two birds at the rehab centre and determined to release the third when I got home.

His buzzing continued until we got to the house. Then he fell silent. I took a peek, and he peeked right back at me.

In the kitchen I made up a fresh batch of sugar water thinking I might be able to feed him. Very slowly and gently I enveloped the hummer in my hand and pulled him from the bag. I drew the sugar water into a small plastic syringe. Before I'd even brought the syringe up to his beak, his neck and tongue were outstretched to lap up the solution.

After a minute or two, the syringe was almost dry. I waited 15 minutes before feeding him again. An hour later, after he'd been fed five times, the bag was buzzing again, this time a Richter-scale vibration. Peering inside I could see that the hummer was airborne. Time for release.

I stepped out into the backyard, gently lifted him out of the bag and opened my hand. He flew to the garden gate and perched there. As I stood wondering if the hummer would fly away soon, I noticed his eyes were closed. This didn't look right. I quietly approached, put him back in the bag and took him back inside.

A few minutes later buzzing again. Once again I released him. And again he flew to the gate. His eyes stayed open this time but it still didn't feel right to me. Inside once more, without a struggle.

The buzzing resumed almost immediately. I tried to ignore him but he just wouldn't stop. After five minutes I couldn't take it any longer. Outside we went. Wouldn't you know it? He flew from my hand to the garden gate. This was becoming a bit redundant. But instead of putting him back in the bag, I pulled out the sugar-water syringe. To my amazement, out popped his slender tongue and he started drinking. One more feeding and a half hour later he flew away.

Michael Mesure
Mike is FLAP's inspirational
Executive Director.