O.C. Writers

By PJ Colando // 

My husband and I vividly recall the first-time nature flew into our home.

A dozen years ago, we installed a Dutch door, with vibrantly colored stained glass, as the front door of our home. Because sunshine and onshore breezes are summer staples of our lives, it was our habit to leave the top portion of the door open throughout the day.

While we can’t see the ocean we benefit from its presence, the onshore breezes that arrive at 4:00 in the afternoon. We seldom need air-conditioning during our endless summer. It’s a boon.

Our home’s entry area is expansive and filled with light. The open Dutch door and a half-dozen skylights welcome all who enter.

In spring 2021 a plucky hummingbird took us up on the invitation and flew into our home to explore. We might not have known except a wild whirring followed by peck-peck-peck that surged during the silence of fast-forwarding to avoid tv commercials that evening.

Both of us bolted from our lounge chairs to check out the source. We looked out the open half-door. We checked each room that opened off the entryway, like Alice in Wonderland, seeking the source of the odd sound.

Then, my husband looked up. Surprise! A hummingbird had flown in. He was in one of our half-dozen skylights, frantically working to escape.

However, though the star-speckled sky was visible, it was on the other side of plastic. The poor thing pecked and pecked and pecked—to no avail. While we considered it a compliment that the windows were clear, we feared that the little bird would die trying. Our lifesaving tendencies kicked in.

Because our home has high ceilings, we had a telescoping pole with chamois on its tip to clear cobwebs. Daddy Long Legs and spiders were ubiquitous critters in our home, whereas hummingbirds were not. But it might make a cushy, enticing ride for a young bird eager to get out.

I grabbed the lightweight pole and extended it near the bird, but he wasn’t inclined to trust the contraption. He veered left, then right, then back again, as if dodging Superman’s bullet. He trusted his fight-or-flight instincts, eschewing the wider view of a human: there was no escape except through the open door, where the chill, dark of the night air did not beckon.

First, I Google-searched and found several websites with how-to advice. Alas, none suited our situation. All offered a reminder that hummingbirds were attracted to red. Voila! We strategized and put these items in place:

• both outdoor lights on high beam
• outdoor red glass candle holders placed near the lights
• a ladder opened outside the open door with an attractive-to-hummingbirds plant in a pot and red-colored sugar water in a ramekin on the top step of the ladder
• a fresh-cut bouquet from Trader Joe’s in the middle ground between the other two red attractions

The bird, who’d worked and fretted overlong, formed his own plan. He’d discovered his berth-of-respite for the night: a curly twig stuffed in a decorative pot high on the entry shelf at 12 feet peak in the back of our entry area. He overnighted in our home, clinging to a curly twig in a decorative pot on a shelf. At twelve feet. Each of us alternately continued attempts to lift our tall cobweb cleaner…. nothin’ doin’.

My husband and I retired in our berth, er, bed for the night, projecting our sweet dreams onto the hummingbird’s plight. Hoping he’d take the hint and fly away in the morning.

In the morning, I lifted the chamois-topped pole again and the little guy promptly climbed aboard for a quick, uneventful sweep outside the open Dutch door. He immediately sped to the magnolia tree and its beckoning blooms. He was home.

I hope he enjoyed our applause.

That was the first, highly eventful chapter. In all a half-dozen buddies have come. Hummingbirds, especially adventurous young ones, flutter on the wings of breezes, so they may have been carried by the wind. Or enticed by red pieces in the Dutch door’s glass or the vibrant colors in our entry paintings.

All flew to the skylights, evidence that lessons learned weren’t shared with others. Relentless they were. There was no try in their minds. It was do, like Master Yoda said.

Needless to say – for we all rely on Google or Wikipedia these days – we learned much about hummingbirds’ habitat, color, and scent preferences, so the sixth time a sweet little bird flew in through the open Dutch door, we were prepared. I doused each red flower on my beloved, embroidered blue jean shirt with a cinnamon-orange scent and lofted it near the tiny bird.

He immediately flew onto one of the red flowers and I slowly moved him to the open door. Out he flew into his wild blue yonder, to the magnolia tree in our courtyard. Easy-peasy this time.

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I write humor and satire with a literary bent. Besides the four novels, I’ve published two short story anthologies and have a third in mind… I’m available to speak to your group or book club. I’m eager to engage with other writers and readers of my books.–PJ Colando

EDITED BY Fred Klein.