It was a fine Spring late afternoon. The hideous wind and dust/snow/hail storms had finally simmered down after 5 days. The moon was already up with about 4 hours of daylight left.
As I sat at my workbench preparing to do some cosmetic work on the Stoeger shotgun, I felt a disturbance in the force. It was a small disturbance, one that distracted me from the George Strait tune on the radio that I had been tapping my foot to. A buzzing filled my ears. I had the door open letting the refreshing gentle breeze waft through and something had wafted in with it.
I ducked, thinking it was the granddaddy of all yellow jackets come for a reckoning.
But as I timidly raised off the floor and peered out from under the bench, I discovered my man cave had been invaded by what the Navajo call a dah-he-tih-hi. Biologists know them as Selasphorus rufus. I just call 'em Hummers. Not to be confused with the armored kind nor the squishy kind.
They've just started to show up with the onset of the warm weather. I put out a feeder just the other day for the early arrivals. Fascinatingly cantankerous and competitive little fellas. Thank goodness they're not the size of mallards., They would be blood in the streets.
Assuming the pointy beaked nectar sucker would find his way back out in a minute, I ignored him. But after about 20 minutes the incessant buzzing was molesting my concentration. It appeared he was directionally challenged. He constantly whammed up against the ceiling, ignoring the open door he had flown through. I tried to shoo him back out. This proved about as successful as trying to herd flies. I got a cardboard target backer and tried to hold it up to the ceiling and move him toward the door. He would put up with this till my arms got tired and then buzz around the cardboard quick as a wink.
I decided perhaps the fluorescent light was confusing him so I turned it off. No dice. I turned the radio off in case he had been attracted to country music. Then I turned it back on and put both Christian and Hip Hop music on.... loud. Alas, neither chased him away (it always works on me).
I went outside. I don't know if I expected him to follow me like a dog or what but he stayed humming around the ceiling completely oblivious to my attempts to evict him. Knowing they are attracted by bright things I git a red bucket and a gas can and set them on the porch just outside the door. He took absolutely no notice of them as they sat glistening in the sun. I went up to the yard and got the hummingbird feeder and hung it in the doorway. It might as well of had a sign on it in hummingbirdese saying "Ignore this. It's a trick. Stay where you are."
After about an hour of this I retreated to the lean-to and cleaned my chainsaw. Not in preparation of using it on him. Just for something to do.
I check back in and didn't see the Hummer. "Har", I thought, "My superior intellect has defeated you". I closed the door and went up to the house for an iced tea.
About two hours later I returned to the shed, made sure no birds were luring about waiting to pull off a shed invasion, and opened the door.
There he sat perching on a picture frame. Looking ruffled, frustrated and exhausted. I figured he must be feeling poorly seeing as how they have to eat like every 20 seconds or so to keep up that insane wing beating.
"This will not do", I thought. I tried the target technique again with no success. Tried a nice red fly swatter. Tried insulting him. Wrote up an eviction notice and waved it at him. I was on the verge of assaulting him with some hideous writings of William Topaz McGonagall when I noticed he was taking longer and more frequent breaks. Perching on the lamp chain, a beer stein, a helmet mounted on the wall. I was able to sneak a little closer to him each time.
As stealthily as an Apache Scout I crept closer. Finally with the quick but subtle hand movements displayed by casino Blackjack dealers, I deftly scooped him up.
"Bird", I paraphrased Jeremiah Johnson, "I am yore friend".
I dashed outside with the pint-sized devil and headed to the bird feeder I'd hung back in the oak tree in the yard. He didn't move when I opened my hand. I was afraid that my sometimes almost superhuman strength had seriously injured him. As I held him up to the feeder he slowly put one foot out, gripped the rail and then hauled himself upright. After a few seconds (that might be longer in bird time) he shook himself and began to suck up some sugar water. Looking bedraggled after his ordeal, he kept one eye on me as I stood only a few feet away. Couldn't tell if he as grateful or really pissed. I suspect a little of both.
Anyway I left him to his dinner.
And that, my friends, was how, on a fine Spring afternoon in my man cave, I got a Hummer.
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