Word count: 444
She loved hummingbirds. Cried when they left her at the first chill of September. This summer she felt closer to them than ever before. They didn’t zip away when she spoke out her kitchen window to a bird perched at the feeder. They buzzed her, hovered when she sat on the deck. This gave her a brilliant idea.
She would catch one, keep it inside for the winter. She selected a male–though the females were more friendly–and tricked his trust with a bright red blossom she held in her hand. By late August, when the troop fought each other for claim to the feeder, he would circle her head, still a bit wary as she patiently waited, speaking softly and low. He would land on her finger, take off in a flash, then came back to land again. By the end of the month he would directly fly in, though aggressively keeping away all other hummingbirds who tried the same thing.
And on a sunny September morning, when the females had already departed and she knew he would soon be off too, she nabbed him.
The poor thing wore himself out beating at the small space of his cage. He’d drop to the bottom, heaving as if his heart would burst with exertion in his attempts to escape. But as the autumn turned frosty and the first snowfall whitened the world that he’d never known, he relented and accepted his prison.
She was thrilled to see him healthy and strong. Excited to hear the hum of his wings every morning. One sunny early winter day she decided to let him fly free in the safe confines of the house.
He slammed into windows, slid down exhausted to the floor as she chased him upstairs and down. Her heart sank when she realized she just couldn’t find him and sweetened his feeder inside the cage, hoping he’d find his way back. Cautiously slipping outside when she had eventually to leave. She never found him though she searched, heartbroken, through every inch of the house until spring.
They returned with the April warm weather. She was happy to see there were at least two males so she didn’t feel terribly guilty. She wondered if she could try it again. She spoke softly, encouraging those brave enough to hover close by. She held out her hand with a finger outstretched. A beautiful male seemed more willing.
“Hey there,” she crooned, “don’t be afraid.” She smiled as if to invite him. He buzzed several times, hovered, flew off, came back to hover again. Then in a whirring flurry of wings, he viciously stabbed out her eye.
OUCH!
Yeahbut, neat huh?