Jimmy the Hummingbird and the Snowpocalypse

I think I should change the name of the garden from Chickadee Gardens to Hummingbird Condominiums. Let me explain.

Last week I warned that if the Snowpocolypse really did arrive and prevent us from attending the Seattle Garden show, that I'd have to resort to posting about cats this week. But something else literally fell into our lives this snowy February, that something was an Anna's hummingbird.

We call him Jimmy.

What in the world are we doing with a hummingbird in our home? 

Well, it happened like this: We regularly feed the hummingbirds here as we have a species that stays year-round, the Anna's hummingbird. In the rare occasion it freezes here, we need to be mindful of thawing out the hummingbird nectar so they have sustenance during this tough weather. They are very territorial - so much so that a female that has been hanging around the feeder out front attacked the little guy. Really. I saw it. The female was on top of him. He was on the ground with his wings splayed, his head turned and lying in the snow while she pecked at his eyes. He just lay there, helpless. 

We picked him up, brought him inside, put him in a towel-lined box in the bathroom and fed him sugar-water with a turkey baster. He ate, he sat on my hand and perked up after an hour or so.

So we took the box outside to let him fly away. We were thinking he'd regained his strength. He eventually flew out (he can fly) and landed on a branch. Within seconds the female was on top of him, knocked him to the ground and was pecking him to death. We broke it up. She flew away to continue to defend her feeders and we brought him back inside.

Now mind you I do not like handling wildlife. I think it should be left to the experts and to nature. But Audubon was not open due to the snowstorm, nor could we take him anyway as the roads were not clear. So our only choice was to help since he would have perished if left outside, via either a territorial female or Old Man Winter.

So in he came, box and all, to stay the night. We put moss in the box to make him at home and a towel, and I made a bed out of a fuzzy sock. 

Our friend who is a birder and involved with Audubon helped us with great advice and confirmed that, yes, the female would have killed him. So. What choice did we have? If Jimmy---we named him Jimmy---survived the night then his chances for survival were increased a great deal. 

Day 2: First thing Saturday morning we checked on him, and Jimmy was fine! Relief streamed through me. OK. Operation Save Jimmy was on to Phase II. We fed him more nectar which he ate with gusto. So, again, since he was fully awake and fed, we thought it would be best to bring him outside. Out went the box the second time, a little more protected. The east winds were howling so hard that with the wind chill it was about 8 degrees. We faced the box away from the wind and thought he might fly off. But he sat there. We checked on him every 5 minutes, but it was clear after an hour that he was not going to fly away and he'd freeze there if he weren't in top health.

There he is in the middle, barely visible. 

This is what it looked like in a good moment. But brutal, all the same. So in he came after an hour of that nonsense.

Interesting factoid: In the first half of the 20th century, Anna's did not come this far north in the winter, nor stay here year-round. That has since changed due to the increase of available flower nectars and increase in nectar feeders. 

A bad pic, but this is Jimmy in his box outside, he did not move from this position for over an hour, he just shivered and poofed up like you see. Not interested in flying anywhere even though he was outside and free to go.

Now inside, he had the basement bathroom to himself along with a deluxe Hummzinger feeder. I also had some mealworms that were in some suet that I extracted, ground up and mixed with the nectar to give him some protein. Operation Save Jimmy Phase III was in full swing.

We called Audubon. They said it's a very unusual situation and that we should release him, but to do so at least a couple of blocks away so as not to encounter the female. 

So, Saturday, after a minute of eating the bug-infused food, Jimmy perked up, flew around very calmly and landed on the shower door...then I rigged the Hummzinger up to hang from the ceiling. He found that quite lovely. He likes to fly in a circle, land on the shower, fly in a circle, land on the feeder, back and forth and so on.

Here he is on his feeder. He is eating on his own at the feeder, so he seems to be on the mend. Plus, he can fly like a champ. Our whole goal here is to get him back outside. The problem Saturday night is that it was freezing rain. No way I'm releasing him, I thought, until it turns to just rain. Gratefully, rain was in the forecast for Sunday, but here's what it looked like on Friday afternoon. As many of you know, it got progressively worse: 

 A Townsend's warbler keeping company with little bushtits at the suet.

 The Arctic tundra eco-roof!

 The snow got about up to Buddha's neck on Sunday.

Day 3: Sunday morning, gratefully, he's still alive, hanging out on his Hummzinger. Here's what it looked like Sunday morning after the freezing rain Saturday night:

Brrrr....so Sunday it melted a bit, but not enough - by the time any significant melting occurred, it was late in the day and the sun was going down. Not a good way to release him. Monday promised melting and freedom for little Jimmy. 

 Nitey-nite, Jimmy....Monday promises better weather for you..you will be able to leave Hummingbird Condominums!


Day 4: So Monday morning the big melt happened. So did Jimmy's release. I was so anxious and nervous, I really wanted him to be outside where his chances for survival were much greater than in my home, but the weather...it's been a tricky winter storm. Gratefully Monday it warmed to 40 degrees and things began to melt, the rain arrived. It was time.


 Here's the video of his release:

He flew away, high off into the tree next door. I haven't seen him as of two hours after his release, which hopefully means he flew far away to find his own territory. I pray that Jimmy makes it, that the female will let him be now that it's warmed up and there's plenty of food for everyone.

This is why I garden. It's for the hummingbirds, the chickadees, the honey bees and the mason bees. It's to do my little tiny bit to make it a little bit better for nature and for us. I guess this was the Universe's way of reminding me that nature is very fragile. I am still processing everything, it was really a miracle that he allowed us to help him, that he was calm and he ate, he exercised his wings and went to sleep at night in his state of torpor. It was a miracle to be with him and that he trusted us. I really believe he knew we were trying to help him.

Good bye, Jimmy. I have some hummingbird nectar for you any time, I do hope you come visit us.