The Story of Lucky the Hummingbird

Note: I first wrote and published this story on Memorial Day of 2008

I republish it here September 20, 2010.

This is one of the feeders that jajean and i hung on the morning of May 24, 2009

Memorial Day 2008

We had a remarkable experience at Protection Farm last week, just a few days before Memorial Day.

A male Ruby-throat flew non-stop last week across the Gulf of Mexico. A day or so later it was probably resting somewhere in the Carolinas.  My sister, who lives in Myrtle Beach called me to tell me that the Ruby-throats had arrived. After a brief rest, it flew north and came into WNY.  This bird ended up in our loving arms at Protection Farm.

Saturday, May 24 saw the arrival of the first Ruby-throats in our area.  They came in on a cold front which dropped the Friday temperatures overnight into Saturday dawn to near freezing. Early in the morning Jajean and I saw two at the farm and we put up feeders right away. By noon we were visited by at least 3 males, maybe five. All seemed energetic and spirited.

The cold must have taken its toll on some of the birds however.  Just after noon on Saturday Ana and I went to Buckwheat’s, a local greenhouse, to shop for some plants. A lady came out from the hothouse with a flat of Petunia’s. Shoving it toward us she said “Could someone get this dead bee out of this flat please”.

The sales lady at the counter who was standing close to the lady looked at the flat and said, “That’s no bee, that’s a baby bird.”  I walked over, looked in, and saw two tiny bird feet sticking straight up in the air.

The sales lady quickly plucked the tiny and apparently lifeless body out of the flat, looked at it, shrugged, and placed it on an empty hanging planter next to where I was standing.  I peered in closely. It was a male Ruby-throat, At first it seemed very dead. It may have been stuck in the box for a couple of days or longer, maybe shipped here from somewhere south.  I was sadly admiring its remarkable body, apparently dead, when it shuddered.

I immediately reached over to it and cupped it in my hands. It was alive. It’s heart was beating at what seemed like a thousand times a second. It moved a bit in my hands. It’s eyes were closed. I was stuck between stunned and awestruck. I wasn’t sure if it was exhausted, injured, poisoned, crushed, or what on this earth could have happened to it.

I knew that this was the day, and perhaps for a few days before, that many Ruby-throats had arrived in the area. My best guess is that it may have just completed a long cold flight. Maybe it had been trapped in the flat when it came into the greenhouse, was sipping some nectar, and a worker placed another flat on top of the one it was in.  The shop closed for the night.  No escape.   I looked it over, and it didn’t appear to have any major physical injuries, no broken bones and from what I could see, its body seemed intact.  No blood, no bones sticking out, its tongue was inside its beak. I hoped it was not physically injured, hoped it was just cold and exhausted because I knew if that was true it had a chance, at least with me as a nurse. I have rescued a number of birds that have gone into shock. It’s not that complicated. Most birds that are injured from for instance, collisions with windows, can be saved if they do not have crushed skulls or other broken bones.   They may be unconscious or stunned.  Get them to a dark quiet place such as a shoebox or sock, put them in a loose pocket or inside your shirt. Keep them warm and safe and often they will come around.   I have done this with dozens of birds including blue jays, cardinals, chickadees, and even once a Downey Woodpecker. But never had i even held a bird this tiny.

And so I stood there in the middle of the store with this tiny bird cupped in my hands. As I pondered what to do next, I held it close to my chest.  I could feel its life pulsating. And it felt good. It was clearly not conscious. But after a minute or so it began moving. I opened my hands slightly and it rolled upright and seemed to be trying to stand. This is good I thought to myself.  I felt alone in the store as no one except Ana was paying attention to the fact that I had grabbed the bird. She looked at me wondering what in the heck I was doing.

            After a few seconds it did stand pushing gently against my cupped hands. Then it fluttered and shook its wings. They seemed relatively functional. The bird slowly stretched first one and then the other. It seemed like a baby waking up in my arms. The wings were a little slow and seemed stiff, but not broken in any way. Its legs looked whole. It didn’t appear to have a broken neck. Its eyes were still closed. Tightly closed. It was clearly not quite all there. After another minute I placed it on a hanging planter that was full of spring blossoms.

I hoped that it would recognize the flowers and maybe try to take a sip of nectar. Hummingbirds expend an enormous amount of energy and need a constant supply of high energy sugar which they get from nectar. They mix this drink with the protein from the insects that they also eat in order to keep that little heart and those little wings beating. The long, sometimes non-stop flights, as you can imagine are quite depleting. I knew that this bird could use nourishment. I hoped that that would be the whole answer because I was not at all sure how much nurture I could provide.

As it sat at the base of the plant in the hanging basket, its eyes remained closed. It was very wobbly, but breathing, and it was alive.

It did not seem to recognize or have any interest in the flowers. I reached up and pushed its head, beak first, toward one blossom. It did not react.  Instead it sort of sagged to one side.  I took a step back and watched.

After about two minutes, the bird started fluttering its wings, awkwardly. They gradually got up to a sort of speed, and I could hear them buzzing. Its eyes were still closed.  Suddenly he actually took off, eyes still closed. A sad flight path slowly spiraled the bird out the open front of the store and down until it landed on the hot blacktop of the parking lot which was just outside. I went to the heap of bird followed closely by Ana, picked it up, cupped it in my hands and said to her,” let’s go, let’s take it home.”

And so we did.

And so we hoped into our petroleum fired SUV and ironically bringing our sick little globe trekker to Protection Farm on what I thought might be the last leg of its migration.

Jajean and Jamie were busy putting together the swing that they had bought for Jonna while Ana and I traveled to the nursery to get some plants. Lucky was waiting for us.

The drive home was an adventure. Ana drove with me in the passenger seat holding our little package of life. I kept the bird cupped in my hands, and close to my chest. Everyone once in a while I would open my hands, and look. It’s eyes remained closed, but I could feel a growing energy. I could feel its heart beating, its breathing, and its gradually flexing wings.   At one point it began a high pitched chirping sound. All along its eyes remained tightly shut. 

 I told Ana that when we get home, we need to prepare a sugar syrup, and try to get it into the bird. The short 10 minute drive seemed to take forever. When we arrived Jajean and Jamie were working on constructing a swinging couch for Jonna.  Jajean grabbed a camera, Ana took the bird, and I went to the kitchen to mix the syrup water. When I finished I went outside and Jamie and Jajean were gathered around Ana and the bird.  Its condition had not appeared to change much and I hoped that the sugar water would help to bring back its life force.

I put a little syrup water inside a flower and tried to get the bird to taste it by placing the flower next to its tiny beak.

At first it did not respond. I pushed the beak in a little further.  The nectar mixture trickled down its beak. Suddenly its tongue started darting in and out of its beak. Its eyes blinked briefly, opened, seemed to be trying to focus, but did not stay open for long. I think it got a look at us four humans staring down at it and decided it was a good idea to just then not to know what was going on.  And so with its eyes tightly shut it thirstily sipped and then gulped sugar nectar. It drank, and drank, and drank, and drank. Its long tongue darting in and out repeatedly. We kept refilling the flower with sugar water. This went on for nearly 15 minutes.  We shared holding the bird.

It really came around. It stood up on its tiny legs. These legs were not made for standing on the ground, and so it was awkward, but it was standing on its own. At one point it opened its eyes looked at us hazily,  and stretched and preened a bit. After that it looked at us intensely, maybe a bit warily, and continued to drink in the sweet liquid. At one point it kind of shook and stood in my hand and took the arched backed shape of a beautiful little Ruby-throat. 

For the next hour or so the bird alternated between snoozing and preening, snoozing and drinking.  It stayed in our hands, or on the ground next to us.  We walked around the yard with the bird, carrying it with us, alternately showing it the place and feeding and nuzzling with it. The recovery was thrilling. For both human and hummer. We weren’t entirely sure that it would be complete, but things progressed nicely. At one point I asked if we should name the little creature. Jamie suggested that we call it Lucky, and the name stuck. Lucky the Hummingbird.

Eyes not quite open yet

loves the taste of the nectar

Ana feeds Lucky and warms him in the sun

Jay and Lucky, taking a break

Assuming the shape! He shook out his feathers, pushed out his chest, arched his back, and generally responded to the warm sun. What a beautiful animal!

We took a lot of photos and some video. After a couple of hours we were all sitting around under the big cherry tree near the barn, Lucky in my hand looking around at us and when he suddenly flew up, away, and landed in a big branch above our heads.  We were surprised and delighted. It stayed there for another hour or so. 

This is Lucky perched in the tree above our heads seconds after flying out of my hand.

We eventually all went away, and got on with other things in our day. At one point Lucky disappeared from the branch he had been sitting on and we all thought “well that is that!”

Later in the day, as evening approached, we were sitting in the grass near the house next to the hummingbird feeders that Jajean and I had put up earlier that morning before Lucky appeared. Occasionally a hummer would come in, dart around and swish off into the woods.  Suddenly this little Hummingbird flew up to us. It looked at us, hovered near us, and went to the feeders. Then it flew right to me and hovered in front of my face for a few seconds, swaying back and forth.  It was about a foot away from me. It then landed on a wire about two feet above my head and sat and preened for about 15 minutes. Then it was gone and darkness came and we went inside for the night.

The next morning as I went out for a walk, a hummingbird found me right away and accompanied me for about half an hour as I walked back and forth between the garden barn and house.  It was intensely interested in me. It would buzz my head, and perch near where I would stop and rest. Everytime I was outside that day the bird showed up. We looked at each other a lot that whole day. 

Jay, moments before Lucky makes his move

Note: This behavior with one hummingbird went on for several weeks, and even the rest of that summer.  We ended up with five resident hummingbirds and although they acted like hummingbirds, aggressive, somewhat intolerant of my presence, one was different. One seemed to seek me out, seemed to follow me everywhere.