Stephanie’s Hummingbird

I came across this wonderful hummingbird synchro on Mike Clelland’s blog, and the author, Stephanie, allowed us to repost it. There’s something magical about hummingbirds, and Stephanie’s name reminded me of another Stephanie,  the macaw from Costa Rica whom we wrote about.

While I was writing up this post, , a friend emailed me that she was relishing the rain that was falling in her backyard in Virginia and watching the multitude of hummingbirds gathering around the feeders outside her office window.

A third reference to hummingbird would make it a very nice cluster synchro!

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from Stephanie:

Years ago I was living in a mother in law ‘type’ apartment (built with a connecting wall to a larger bungalow style house). The place has a lot of windows that look out onto a grove of lovely oak trees.

One sunny afternoon, I was laying on our couch downstairs in a room with big windows, I was near the door that leads out to the patio. It was gorgeous out and the door was open. I was reading one of Paul Devereux’s works, most likely “Shamanism and The Mystery Lines” in which he discusses the Nazca lines in Peru.

I wondered to myself about the hummingbird figure which someone made on the Nazca plane. It’s quite strikingly graphic, but I’ve never seen a hummingbird in anything like that particular position. It’s a beautiful work, but it struck me that the position of the bird is so unnatural and I remember feeling stumped at how the artist came up with that curious interpretation. (I’ve taken a number of college level art classes, including life drawing and art history, so I’m familiar with the process.)

Wondering got me nowhere fast, and I realized I was a little peckish. I stood up to go to the fridge and get some cheese when I heard a buzzing sound. Looking towards the sound, I saw that a little male Anna’s Hummer had got into the house and was trying to leave by flying through the window.

If you’ve ever seen a bug trying to get out a window, this little man was engaged in the same pursuit, staying against the glass at the edge of the window and slowly moving up and down, wings a blur. The angle formed by the edge of the window made it easy for me to slowly approach the little hummingbird and close my hands around his body, all the while saying: “Let me love you, let me love you.” I wanted to convey my intent, though I’m sure my heart was beating as fast as his!

I walked outside a few steps and opened my hands to let the hummingbird fly off. I looked down as I lifted my right hand, to see the hummingbird lying prone in the palm of my left hand. It was positioned with beak stretched out to the front and wings extended to each side. Exactly like this:

Within a second or two he realized he could fly away, and he did. Now I wonder under what circumstance the ancient artist held a live hummingbird in his or her hands.