Today a bunch of Austin friends and family and dogs came out to the farm for a hang-out. There was a new baby to squeal over, and a big box of donuts. But for me the highlight was when somebody’s golden retriever alerted us that a dazed and bedraggled hummingbird had just fluttered down onto the porch (good boy!).
Hummingbirds, who don’t typically land on porches containing dogs and screaming newborns, have crazy metabolism and require nutrients something like every hour or they go tits up. This one was in trouble. Springing into action, the group mobilized with but a single, unified thought: SAVE THE BIRD. I scooped it up, Bjorn produced Gatorade*, and Niece shouted, “use a bottle cap for a dish!”
Lil Buddy duly lapped up our hastily improvised offering with its thread-like tongue; it was about the cutest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. After 10 minutes or so it regained its composure and flew away amid full-throated cheers, well-wishes and high fives. The End.
* Don’t knock it till you’ve saved a hummingbird with it








