Last night the hummingbird that has unwisely nested right outside the kitchen door flew into the kitchen, with its wings frenetically buzzing, as hummingbird wings do. It kept jousting at the ceiling light and flying at windows and generally panicking, but failing to panic its way out a window. Twice it nearly gave me a heart attack by suddenly ceasing all movement, making me think it had managed to kill itself. Among the many notions I do not relish is that of a dead hummingbird in the kitchen. I finally got it outside by herding it with a broom until this tiny bird with its tiny, tiny bird brain decided to just perch on the broom, at which point I was able to actually carry it outside. And then I shut the windows.
Not cool, hummingbird.
The hummingbird where it belongs, in its stupidly placed nest in the loquat tree outside.