My Calliope

It was remarkable that it even happened.  I was working at my desk when I heard a loud buzz, and caught a dark shape in my peripheral vision flying towards me.  The sound and the sight of a flying mass larger than even a hefty flying insect had my reflexes reacting in defense of my head, which it flew straight at.  Only it wasn’t a bee, or wasp, or one of those DC10-Jumbo-Jet moths.  It was a hummingbird.  It had somehow flown in the deck door in the living room, flown 15 feet straight down the hallway, turned sharply right, and flown into my office.  If that flight path was not remarkable enough in itself, the fact that it did so without being noticed by the cat was a minor miracle.  Sadie has a proud, perceptive history with those on the wing.

It was a hummingbird.  Stellula Calliope to be precise. An exquisite enigma of delicacy and power.  Its head and back were brilliant with deep metallic green feathers. It had the tiniest little feet I have ever seen: like the smallest bits of the thinnest wire.  It was so small, it would have fit in the palm of my hand and still had room for a wee friend to walk all the way around it.  As it landed on the chair back, having already banged against the window once or twice, I watched its tiny eyes dart about and its whole form pulse with dynamic metabolism.  It seemed frightened certainly, and very fragile.  Then it took flight again and I ducked.  That long pointed beak and the twelve to eighty wing beats a second felt threatening in my small office, not fragile.

It landed on the computer monitor, and seemed to blink at me.  I tried to think of a way to capture it so I could take it outside.  I have done that for years with the stray flying insect or mammoth spider.  All it takes is a glass or a jar, a stiff bit of paper, and a calm steady hand and you can have them outside, free to the air, and be retreating safely inside before you can say “Oh my God, it’s a Beeeeeeee!”  I looked around to see what was near to hand.  My office wastebasket?  A magazine maybe?  Perhaps I could catch it in my hands!  No. That would only work if I have turned into some sort of Zen Master in my sleep and could manage to project calm serenity on both myself and the hummingbird.  It flew around the room again, madly banging the window pane once more before returning to the computer.

The clock was ticking.  It was only a matter of time before Sadie realized there was a snack on the wing in the office.  Door open, or door shut, it would not be pleasant.  Then it finally occurred to me.  The thought came in an instant and in the oddest sort of way.  Stellula Calliope. Calliope: the Muse of Epic Poetry, the poetry of journeys.  This bird did not need to be captured in any way, it needed to be released.  Just in time I opened the window, pulled the window screen out, and waved an copy of the Smithsonian Magazine at it so that it soared once around the room and then out the open window.  Sadie came hurtling in just as it rounded for the opening and she landed on the window sill right behind it.  The hummingbird was well away.

Fly my Calliope!  Fly free.  I have a journey to write.

by Judy Cullen
2012 all rights reserved