To kill a hummingbird.

I love birds.  I mean, as long as they’re not pooping on my head, I think they’re great.  They sing pretty.  They fly around and look pretty in the sky.  Some of them are really pretty colors.  What’s not to love?

So, being a friend of birds, I try my best to ensure their safety.  I once rescued a bird that knocked itself out when it flew into a window.  By the time I put it in a box (with breathing holes, of course) and took it to the wildlife rescue in my town, it had regained consciousness and nearly made me have my own bird droppings when it flew out the box at the rescue place. 

I guess sometimes birds can be scary.

Like when they’re in your garage and totally panicked because they’re too dumb to figure out how to get back out the way they flew in.

Here’s the dumbest (and cutest) bird on the planet – my little hummingbird.

This hummingbird graced us with its presence for a full 2 hours this past Saturday.  He was flying around like a rabid bird, knocking himself against our garage ceiling and screaming out in fear. 

Being the natural rescuer that I am, I went into rescue mode and decided to try to gently steer the bird in the right direction.  I fashioned my own catcher net out of a mosquito helmet and a dowel rod.


The net looked something like this. Imagine it attached to a long stick.  You can just call me MacGyver.

So, I start waving this ghetto net around trying to reign the bird in.  Each time I got close to the bird, it flew off as quickly as it could, and I was left standing there holding a mosquito helmet attached to a dowel rod.  Asshat of the century.

I saw the poor bird up close, and it was obvious that my presence (and Anna’s constant screaming “BIRDDDDDDDDD”) was making it a little more panicked.

 

I decided to leave it alone, but first Joe snapped some photos just incase we needed them for evidence.  I believe killing a hummingbird is a federal offense, but don’t quote me on that.

Here’s our bird.  His name is Dumb and Dumberer.

Here he is right after I gave him the scare of the century by trying to murder him with my mosquito net and dowel rod.

Here is he resting after being chased down by a psychotic animal lover.

All he can think to himself is – please leave me alone, psycho.

You’ll be glad to know that a friend of his eventually flew into our garage to help point him in the right direction.  Shortly after he saw his friend exit, he followed suit and was able to enjoy the rest of the day.  Or hibernate the rest of the day because I’m sure I exhausted him with my mosquito net and dowel rod.