It's the Small Things

I was running along the Burke Gilman today when a hummingbird suddenly zips overhead--breaking the sound barrier and kicking birdy ass down the trail.

Thrilling. A hummingbird is always thrilling... every time. It doesn't matter that these bizarre irridescent hovercrafts are LEGION in Seattle at the moment (in the most undemonic sense possible). I can't help it... every time I see one I have to stop what I'm doing and grin dumbly into the sky/tree/bushes for at least five minutes.

So... I'm doing this. Trying to avoid the cocky lycra jersey boys of the BGT --clipped into their pedals and deathly afraid of anything that might make them slow down and consequently tip over. Bike bells are ringin' . A cacophony of "On your left!" "On your left!" is being screamed with tremulous paranoia by the herding helmet heads. And, I... I am experiencing the shear bliss of watching a hummingbird sit still.

And then something happens. (This is really cool).

The hummingbird buzzes over to a little bush and plops down next to a teeny fuzzy gray thing with a gaping needle beak... and proceeds to barf semi-digested nectarjuice down the throat of what can only be a BABY HUMMINGBIRD?

Do such miracles really exist?

They do!! And LOOK!!! LOOK! There's one right there!!!

I so desperately wanted to jump up and down and point this out to the bikers... the joggers... the woman in the motorized wheelchair... but DAMN. No one looked like they wanted me to interrupt their intensely serious leisure migrations.

Oh... I was so sad.

Poor baby hummingbird. I was the only person who was going to get to see it... and I'm not cool. Poor me... if nobody else saw it I was going to have to hold on to this moment all by myself 'til the end o' days. Could I do it? What if I failed? No. I couldn't let that happen. This was a moment to be remembered!

So... I spun around... and lunged at the slowest trailblazer I could find (a small blonde university gal lugging a big backpack) and I said, "wanna see something really cool?", in the most nonthreatening nonchalant manner I could muster.

She hesitated slightly... but then CAVED. HAHAHAHAHA!

And, so, the two of us squatted together by the side of the trail grinning dumbly into the bushes for five minutes or so.

It was lovely.