A Gift of Wings

What a beautiful weekend this has been. After days and days of dreary, gray drizzle (which I don't really mind because it isn't snow and it is at least making the grass and trees grow green after a long Maine winter) the sun decided to burst out and give us a fabulous Memorial Day Weekend. So out into the warm glow I went to get dirty in the gardens! And it wasn't long after that the universe gave me the opportunity to help one of our extended family. After spending a happy hour or so digging and planting and mulching- and calling for our poodle Griffin again and again as he ranged too far into the woods exploring, it was time to water. The hose is currently housed in our former boarding kennel and soon to be remodeled Reiki studio, so I headed in to grab it and almost dropped to the floor when I heard the enormous wasp buzzing at the window. That's what I thought it was at first. I was terrorized as a child by a wasp nest hidden somewhere in the ceiling above my room, which translates to overreacting to being enclosed with one as an adult. It took just a moment to realize the sound was wrong for a wasp, though. Too loud and lower pitched. I risked a glance up and my heart jumped again. It wasn't a bug at all. It was a tiny bird- a female ruby-throated hummingbird! She must have flown in through the open guillotene doors which had been removed temporarily during the renovations. It was obvious she'd been there a while. She was laying, splay-winged at the bottom of the sill. In a burst of energy she flailed against the glass again, rising up and up in a desperate bid to find an opening to the sky. Then, spent, she just dropped to the bottom again, in the same exhausted position. I jumped up, ready to act. I've rescued animals for years, from baby field mice to cats and dogs in need. Birds are not my strong suit. I looked around for a container to catch her in, thinking she was so small a modified bumblebee scoop and release might be in order. Unfortunately the room was bare. I was on my own with my hands and my heart. So, approaching quietly, I sent all the calming energy I could. I asked her to relax and trust, told her I was no danger to her and if she'd hold still I could help her find the sky. I've read amazing stories of wild animals who find a way to trust a human long enough to let them help, and I prayed this would be another of those situations. It wasn't. As I tried to cup my hands, oh-so-gently, around the tired body she flailed again, her humming magnified by the beat of her wings against the glass. I followed her up with my fingers, caught her when she dropped again. I could feel her fear, and as she fell into my hands the most piteous cry escaped her beak and brought tears to my eyes. She truly, in that moment, thought she was going to die. I could feel it. I could feel the frustration and unwillingness to let life go, as well. I cried out, too, begging her to just relax as I hurried outdoors with her and into the back yard. The edge of our lawn is shady and bordered by bushes and small trees that the birds like to nest in. I got as close as I could and sat down. When I opened my hands I thought she had died. She was lying on her side in my hand with her eyes closed. But as I watched closely I could see the change in the shine of her irridescent green feathers as she breathed, quick and shallow. She had a chance. So I gave her Reiki, asking my angels and hers to make sure it filled her gently and only as much as she wanted to keep her from more stress. And I waited. In the quiet of the afternoon it seemed like everyone waited with bated breath to see if she would rise. Griffin the poodle came over to investigate, but amazingly walked away when I asked him to. (Usually the presence of something small and alive at least causes a fury of investigative excitement!) It was five minutes before she stirred, blinking once or twice then becoming still again. A minute more and she managed to right herself, sitting on her legs and blinking, maybe wondering where on earth she was. I continued to send Reiki and gentle thoughts of love and peace. In the back of my mind I wondered if I could make it to the hummingbird feeders behind me to try and give her a sugar boost- the amount of energy expended through the adrenaline of fear must have been incredible. But I stayed put, not wanting to stress her further. My prayers were answered a minute later when she managed to lift off my hand with shaky wings and land on a branch a foot above my head. After a brief rest she went higher, into the lower branches of our ash tree. And then, incredibly, she took off into the sky, straight up. I held my breath, watching her falter once, twice, wanting to see where she fell if she needed more help. Then the most beautiful thing happened. Another hummingbird-her mate?- shot from the trees to meet her in the sky. They bumped together, then again. The concern of her friend seemed to give the little female strength and they shot off together into the woods. I gazed at the spot where they had disappeared, thanking my guides and angels for their help, and thanking God for the gift of Reiki. But the most beautiful piece of this story, I think, is the love of the little bird from the woods, who had been waiting, probably watching me as I carried his mate off to who-knows-where. The happiness that I felt from them when they met in the sky again made me realize, yet again, that Reiki is truly a gift and one I will hopefully never take for granted.