Nikolai got a small raise and a small title today, since he’s been in his new job for three months and hasn’t lit anyone or anything on fire.  To celebrate, we went to Benihana’s which was delicious and ever so much fun.  We came home and I notice a massive insect flitting around our front door in the early evening gloom, and wow that thing was huge.  Certainly the biggest dragonfly I’d ever seen HOLYCRAPTHAT’SAHUMMINGBIRD.  We piled inside, Nick being careful to not lure the beast in where it could dive bomb our heads and stab us in the eyes with its flinty, sharp beak.  But I realized poor little hummy bird would not be able to fly low enough to get out of our stairwell thingy, so I would need to help him.  I could save him, just like I helped save a swallow in high school!

Dashing into the apartment, I brainstormed what I would need.  Lacking a fishing net, (but not fishnet stockings AWWW YEAH) I realized I need to create one using two golf clubs and a hoodie.  Nick helped by giving me one of the heaviest hoodies EVER, made of super dense fleece.  I ran the clubs up the sides and to the sleeves, and then took my impromptu net/scarehummingbird out the door to help the wee fellow.  He made laps of the landing, zooming over my head and then back out to the milky glass of the wall opposite me,  under which he needed to duck to be free.  I waved my heavy contraption at him whenever he got close, trying to impress upon his mind that he needed to go down to get out but either I don’t speak hummingbird very well or his english is dreadful because he never did duck down.  He did cling onto the walls a few times, trying to catch his breath.

After looking quite the gallant saviour of small birds and not at all silly but in the end unsuccessful, I decided we needed a new method.  When I went back inside and Nikolai yelped that I needed to close the door lest the hummy bird come in, the perfect solution struck me.  We would make a hummy bird tunnel to our balcony!  I marshalled my troops, directing Nikolai to open the blinds and the back door, and Patrick to turn on every lamp in the living room as the bird seemed drawn to light.  I held the door open and stood very still.  It totally worked.   Our simulated daylight lured the poor creature inside!  The next step would be to get Nick to stop ducking and flailing, and then we could get down to business of saving the hummy bird by getting him out the back door.

Yeah, that didn’t work.  Nick eventually stopped ducking and flailing, but it took two beach towels, a lot of standing on chairs, gently waving a red shirt, and wow so much giggling.  Well, that’s what it took to save the bird.  Nick stopped flailing all on his own, I swear.  The crux of it all came when the hummy bird retreated to our kitchen and perched on a box atop our cupboards above our stove. He just sat there, breathing heavily, probably reciting a hummy bird prayer or two in his mind, convinced that the end was nigh.  I crept into the kitchen, and he didn’t move.  I walked up underneath him, he didn’t move, so I prepped for Operation: Brave And Daring Hummy Bird Rescue by putting one foot on the counter.  Nick crept up behind me slowly, to provide muscle.  In our very dim kitchen, we eeeeeeeased me up, and I sneeeeeeaked a hand up to mr. hummy bird.   He squeaked indignantly at my impertinence, and flapped his wee-but-mighty wings against my carefully curved fingers, but I was already hurrying across our small living room and out the door to set him free, so I didn’t listen too closely to his hummy bird profanities.  He was free, and I was happy, and Nick has never looked so relieved.  I am a dang American hero.

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