The Hummingbird and the Glass Ceiling

True Love can only happen in Freedom

Hummingbirds are very common animals in the Mexican countryside. They visit every garden to pollinate flowers, pick old spiderwebs from the window to build their nests, and are generally joyful and noisy creatures to have around.

The studio I was renting at the time of this occurrence was surrounded by a wild garden with an abundance of medlar trees and all kinds of flowering beings, so naturally, there was always a lot of wildlife around me.

One day, while immersed in my work, a hummingbird flew through the back door, did a little pirouette, realized it was in a confined space, and went directly towards the lightshaft to get out again. I tried arguing that it was going to hurt itself bouncing against the glass ceiling, and that it would probably be easier and healthier to exit the same way it had entered, but once a hummingbird has made up its mind, there's really no convincing the little warrior.

Since it didn't want to heed my (telepathic) words, I thought I'd try to reach up with a broom and guide it back through the door, but I soon had to realize that this just caused more panic and anger.

At first, I thought it was kind of amusing to see the little creature fight so fiercely for its freedoml, but after a while it felt more like a tragic spectacle I was incapable of intervening in. It's terrible when you see the solution to a problem, but the being in the problem keeps blindly trying and hurting itself in the process.

Wondering what I could do to help, I remembered that I had read somewhere that hummingbirds pretty much need a constant supply of nectar, or else they run out of fuel and are grounded.

It took several hours, but eventually, the tiny warrior was so exhausted that he ended up on the studio floor. My chance to intervene had come. I quickly picked it up, took it outside and offered it a little sugar water.

The bird was flabberghasted. The whole time it had thought I was its mortal enemy, out to kill it with a broomstick, and now I was setting it free and still offering it food for the road.

It soon recovered and before it flew off, we shared a laugh about the misunderstanding, and the lesson we had both learnt that afternoon: Sometimes, it's better to take a breath and look around instead of bouncing your head against a glass ceiling until you're exhausted.