For Flo - surfer, aikidoka, photographer extraordinaire…and hummingbird whisperer.
Photo by James Wainscoat on Unsplash
Weary from his long ride home, Edan opened the shed door and wheeled his bicycle into the gloomy interior. He was immediately aware of a strange buzzing punctuated by a tic-tic-tic-ing that he found disorienting. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see, backlit against the window on the far wall, the silhouette of a tiny hummingbird flying up against the glass in an effort to gain its freedom.
Taking in and releasing a deep breath, Edan calmed himself, picked up a broom, and ever so slowly approached the distressed creature. He looked at the bird with his peripheral vision, taking care not to frighten it with his attention, and gently eased the broom handle into a position just below the hummingbird and waited.
The bird continued to flit anxiously against the pane, shying away from the handle, but Edan just kept adjusting it to stay within a few inches of the bird. He continued to breathe evenly and deeply, sending calm, loving energy to the distressed bird.
His patience was rewarded when it alit on the broom handle, and he began a slow-motion walk to the door. The hummingbird cocked an eye at him but remained fast on the stick until he reached the door and then buzzed away into the softening evening. Edan’s heart lifted and he felt less tired.
After stowing his bicycle and securing the door, he went to his tiny room, more of a lean-to, really, that he was offered in exchange for chores. He found some leftover dal and a few chapatis and sat down at the small table to eat, reflecting on his day. He had gone to visit his mother after work, and the journey had added an extra hour of riding, hence his fatigue, but worry about his mother, who was ill, was the real cause of his lethargy. She lived alone now that his father had passed, and as her only offspring he wished he were better able to take care of her.
He thought of the hummingbird, trying to penetrate the invisible barrier that blocked its path, and he felt that his life was full of invisible barriers too, blocking his quest for the horizon.
The next morning, his day off from loading trucks at the cement factory, he went to the market for food and some new sandals. Strolling through the busy stalls, awash with a cacophony of smells, colours and sounds, he noticed a vendor that sold garden tools, seed, and…hummingbird feeders. Remembering the incident the night before, he purchased one, thinking it would be better for any visiting hummingbirds to find than the lonely end of the shed. He asked the seller for instructions, who complied, and said, “I hope this brings happiness to your life! Hummingbirds represent joy, you know?”
Edan paid and bundled the feeder together with the rest of his purchases, loaded it all on his bicycle, and pedaled home.
After a snack he began to assemble the feeder, primed it with sugar-water as the vender had told him and hung it outside his window where he could easily see it. After watching for a while, hoping to see the hummingbird again, he realized he would have to be patient, and perhaps a little bit lucky…
A few days later, as he was sweeping the floor, he happened to glance out the window and there it was – the hummingbird was at his feeder! At least he thought it was the same bird but couldn’t be sure - he needed to observe more closely. It hovered briefly, dipped its beak in the feeder, and was gone in a flash of gold and green iridescence. It was a joyful sight indeed, and he reflected on what the man in the market had said. Was it a symbol of joy because of the feelings it aroused in the watcher to see such a beautiful creature? Or did the joy belong to the bird: the joy of flying, hovering, and plunging its beak into beautiful flowers, existing on nectar and air? Or to the flowers?
As he considered it, he thought about his mother, who could use a dose of joy, and resolved to bring her a feeder next time he visited.
A few days later, feeder strapped to his carrier, he arrived at his mother’s home after work. She looked drawn and tired but offered a wan smile at the sight of her son, and insisted on fixing him a meal, despite his protest. While he ate, she asked him about work: was he taking a good lunch, did he have enough money, was the boss treating him fairly? He answered yes, yes mother everything is good, don’t worry…how are you and what did the doctor say? His mother did not answer and began to clear the table. He decided not to press the issue and said he had something for her as he unbundled the hummingbird feeder and laid it on the table.
His mother asked what it was, and he told her, saying that they could hang it up in the tiny courtyard that she shared with her neighbours. Another small smile, and he quickly assembled the feeder, explained about the sugar water, and hung it up outside.
“Soon you will have dozens of hummingbirds coming every day to make you smile, and I will feel each one!”
After some tea, he embraced his mother and left.
He continued to watch the hummingbirds at his own feeder and marveled at their bright colours, their ability to hover, and even the occasional bickering if more than one showed up. Sometimes he lost track of time, so captivating was their behavior.
And then one day, as he was watching the hummingbird at the feeder, sure now that it was the same bird he had rescued, he began to feel a little dizzy, and the buzzing of the hummingbird seemed to surround him and…the next thing he felt was a rising and he found himself looking down on his home, and the mango tree in the yard next to the shed where he kept his bicycle. Was he flying? Dreaming? After the initial shock, he heard a voice, more of a feeling and an infusion of colours, really, that told him he was sharing the consciousness of the hummingbird, that it was a gift in return for the help he gave it in the shed.
He could see the city passing below him, and great clumps of flowers that he got lost in, and he could taste their sweet nectar. It was glorious and…joyful! Soon they were over the bridge, covered with pedestrians, rickshaws and scooters, that he crossed when he visited his mother. Yes, there was her home, with the tiny courtyard and the feeder beside her window, dangling in the late afternoon sun! He found himself perched on the feeder, gulping sugar water, and he then saw his mother at the window…
And she smiled.
Kevin Love, December, 2020
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