Bicyclists are close to everything, only pedestrians are closer and both parties see a lot of dead and injured animals. On a bad day we see the shocking moment when an animal is killed and a car keeps on driving. I know I should go back but I dread the misery of finding a terrified and dying animal. Still I turn around.
It's a very tiny hummingbird. It is sitting in the middle of the bicycle lane facing four lanes of busy and loud rush hour traffic. I swear by anything holy that it's eyes are fixed in this total thousand yard stare as it appears to gaze listlessly at the steady stream of cars going by at about 35mph a few feet from it's head. Not without some dithering I prop up my bicycle and get between the bird and the traffic so as not to startle it into the road. Then after more dithering (plus the anxious mooing noise I make when I am nervous and worried about doing the wrong thing) I kneel down and very gently scoop the bird into my hand. It sits there, uncomplaining.
Next I peer all over and around me looking for adult hummingbirds and looking for a nest I can boost this guy back into. The only close tree is huge and high and over my head. Maybe it has a nest. Maybe not. I call the Contraption Captain, the bird in one hand and the phone in the other. I end up taking a small to-go container from my backpack and gently and apologetically I transfer the bird into the container and the container into my backpack.
I continue towards home, meeting up with the Contraption Captain. About a mile from the house we start hearing squeaking noises. We think it's my bicycle but at a traffic light we realize - it's the bird.
At the house we consult the internets and Contraption Captain fixes up some healthy (we hope) food for the guy. We all take turns feeding him. The bird's beauty and fragility - you can't be near to it and not feel something in your heart, I think. For feeding we lightly touch the back of the bird's head and his tongue sticks out and then we present him with an eyedropper of the food and his tongue does that crazy crazy thing as he sucks up the nectar.
The bird starts looking a little more hopeful. Ok maybe not but I start feeling more hopeful. He (or she) makes it through the night and eats a bunch more and shows some interest in flying. As I write this he is en route to a further out town (by car alas) where there is a wildlife rescue that already has five of these little guys. They will make sure he (or she) is grown up enough and stable enough and strong enough and then the bird will be released close to where he (or she) was found.
I m fantastically happy about this. So often I arrive too late, or without the right skills, or without the right tools to do anyone or any animal any good. Just this once though I was in the right place at the right time and I am hopeful that a lovely little life was saved.