On Sunday (the fourth), I was just sitting down to a late lunch when Furby started crying at the back door. Furby is my one cat who is allowed outside (usually just to use the outdoor facilities, which she prefers, and come right back in). So, I got up to let her in. She had something small and slimy that she wanted to bring with her. Having had cats for a few years now, I'm wise to that. You don't bring anything but yourself back in this house.

So, I got Furby in and went to look at what she had. It was a baby hummingbird, barely fledged, and it was still breathing. Yikes! What now?

I knew my neighbor had recently rescued a hummingbird from one of their cats. Off I go to get the number for hummingbird rescue. Yes, there's a hummingbird rescue, at least here. I called, got directions, and took the baby straight down there. Fortunately, not too far away.

You would not believe this place. The kitchen counter (yes, it was in their home) is covered in little ventilated boxes for one or two baby hummingbirds each. There are a couple of aquarium-like aviaries for birds that are learning to feed themselves and exercise their wings. The kitchen table is covered in cat-carrier sized cages with perches for two fledged hummingbirds each, where they learn to perch all night before they can be moved to the next phase. The patio has been converted to a flight aviary where they go before they're released. Honest. This whole house, just about, is dedicated to hummingbirds.

My little fellow was the fifth she had taken in that day and the 322nd for the year.