Lisa Liu Grady: The Hummingbird Intruder

Lisa Liu Grady shares her experience trying to free a friendly flying companion.

Hummingbirds have always captivated me. Their frenetic energy, iridescent shimmer and buzzing flight — it’s pure magic. I’m still mesmerized when one darts over to the bright red nectar feeder in my Japanese maple tree.

One sweltering evening, while cooking dinner, I opened the back door for a breath of fresh air. A hummingbird, seeing its chance, zipped right into my house.

It rocketed to the double-height ceiling, then fixed on the clerestory window, a sliver of blue sky taunting it. Then, the horror began. It slammed against the unyielding glass, desperate to escape.

My rescue plan was to nudge it back outside. But even at the ladder’s peak, the broom was too short.

Bang, bang, bang! The relentless pounding continued. My heart sank as a few of its tiny gray feathers clung to the glass. Then, silence. It lay motionless on the windowsill.

Panic surged. Suddenly, the hummingbird was back, powered by a second wind. It hadn’t died, just taken a power nap. I did what we all do in an emergency. I asked Alexa how to get a bird out of your house. Alexa suggested blacking out the window, tricking it into thinking it was night. Seriously?

I called my husband, Jim, for backup. He gently herded the exhausted bird to the top of a bookshelf, where it promptly fell asleep again.

“Whatever you do,” Alexa said, “Pick the bird up gently if you are able to retrieve it.”

I handed Jim a padded oven mitt and he carefully scooped up the still hummingbird, carried it outside and placed it on the ground.

In a flash, it took flight and was gone. I wept tears of relief grateful for the outcome of our strange and intense encounter. I know that I’ll never look at a hummingbird the same way again.
With a Perspective, I’m Lisa Liu Grady.

Lisa Liu Grady is a Bay Area freelance writer and proud mom of two. She loves gardening, composting, and being in nature with her dog, Lola.