National Office Bird Sanctuary

I saw it as I reached for the handle to open the heavy glass doors of the National Office, coming in to work Friday. An insignificant emerald mite, hanging at my knee level on the pebbled wall surface, just outside the entryway. I’m no expert on hummingbirds, but I’d never seen one sitting still. Normally their little wings look like ceiling fans in motion. I don’t like to get involved in other creatures’ malaise any more than you do, probably less, and I had no idea how to care for it. But I love hummingbirds, and at least thought I would kneel for a closer look.

It flew onto my head.

A cry for help, for sanctuary, I thought. Later, I realized her desperate burst of flight was aimed at my purple hair scrunchy, which she hoped to be of the nectar-containing variety.

And if that isn’t remarkable enough, within 30 seconds, Astrogirl came walking up the steps – quite possibly one of the few in the building who might have known what to do.

“Deb, do you know anything about hummingbird?” I asked her urgently. She answered in the affirmative, and I said, “Good, because there’s one on my head.”

Deb is on my Most Intriguing People list because she possesses astronomical knowledge, so to speak, on a wide span of topics, including, as it turns out, how to feed a starving hummingbird.



“It’s torpid,” she explained. “You mix one part sugar with four parts water.” I kept asking her, isn’t it going to die? It huddled listlessly on her open hand. I mixed the magic brew and she dribbled some on its beak, then gently submersed it. She assured me it would be fine, just needed to regain energy. Although clearly it would have starved to death had we not intervened. Deb knew by the tiny spots on its breast that it was probably a juvenile, perhaps inexperienced in food-gathering.

Incredibly, I could see the infinitesimal rippling of the water as its tongue (the same length as its beak) drank. We did this several times and just allowed it to rest on our hands. Like holding a cotton ball with a toothpick attached.

Deb crooned to the little thing. We watched as its eyes grew brighter.

Then, all at once, she was airborne, hovering right on the ceiling and touching the tiles with her beak. We opened the outside door, and after a few moments, she found her way out and was gone.

You might just find a torpid hummingbird sitting on your front step today. I don’t mean a bird. I mean a hurting co-worker or friend, someone who’s just used up all his or her fuel, maybe from flying around helping others.

Take a minute, give them a little sweet encouragement, let them rest on your strength. Soon they’ll fly off and leave you, recharged. It doesn’t cost much. Be a sanctuary.

Ain’t Nothin’ But A Hound Dog

If you dislike dogs or indelicate matters,
you may prefer to read someone else’s blog today!

We’ve taken kids to the emergency room three times (when the doctor appears, the child springs up and runs in circles). We’ve dealt with a negligible assortment of concussions, sore throats, and my favorite dress puked on just before walking out the door. But I’ve never had a sick dog.

It’s only me who is a novice here – Mitch’s childhood dogs experienced close encounters with cars, gun-toting garbage-can owners, and other canine hazards. But Zydeco is my first dog.

My son noticed before we did. “Zydeco keeps shaking,” he pointed out. Probably just dreaming, we thought. But the quivering continued when he awoke, his ears felt hot, nose dry, demeanor lethargic. With a prayer for healing, I searched the internet for the canine WebMD.

I found an instructive piece, “How to Take Your Dog’s Temperature,” which explained the three ways to do this. You can use a special ear thermometer for dogs, but we don't own one (yet). As for oral, I thought it unwise to hold a small crunchable mercury-filled object between his teeth. Particularly since he can easily close his mouth over a tennis ball. So that pretty much left one option . . .

For dog-owners not possessing a basic knowledge of canine anatomy, the web article helpfully advises that this most efficacious of temperature-taking points “is located just below the base of the tail.” In the event of persistent uncertainty, the site obligingly provides a photograph one can study.

After illuminating the process (I won’t go into detail here), the commentary suggests that you “remove the thermometer and read the temperature.” I’m just not certain I would have thought to carry out these additional steps, all on my own.

And one more pointer, gleaned from my years of parenting: if the patient is not sick enough for you to safely attempt the southern hemisphere insertion, you probably don't need to know the exact number.

Nevertheless, the article proved useful: normal canine temperature is 100.5 to 102.5 degrees Fahrenheit, and you should call your vet somewhere over 104, depending on your checking account balance.

Initially, in my alarm and without my glasses, I read our (did I say “our”? it’s now the dog’s) thermometer as 109. My unflappable husband did not sweep Zydeco into his arms in a desperate rush for emergency care. So I held it up to better light and checked again. “Make that 104,” I admitted. If you’ve had a sick child lately and for some obscure reason don’t use digital, you may remember the high number on the glass is 106.

Since emergi-petcare is slightly less expensive than a Caribbean cruise, we opted for a quick run to Petco. Only $7.99 will get you 100 chewable aspirin, liver-flavored, with the instructions “one-half tablet per 10 lbs.” Per ten pounds of dog, that is.

Fortunately we weighed the pooch just last month, by the simple expedient of weighing Mitch first, then, Mitch holding the dog. We did this twice because I somehow did not grasp, the first time, that I was to get all the way down on the floor, dog haunches hanging over me, and count those tiny lines between the numbers, upside down and in a portion of the dial I thankfully don’t frequent, once again without glasses, in the rapidly waning milliseconds before Mitch lost his grip on the wriggling beastie. Laughing hysterically increases the difficulty. Mitch, hefting 90 pounds of hound, twice, was not amused.

Much like taking the child to the emergency room, only cheaper, Zydeco perked up the second I walked in the door from Petco. He snarfed down four aspirin tablets (that’s only 80 lbs of dog but close enough), ate some food, and stopped shaking. Thank God.

In our house, we celebrate Christ our Healer and humbly receive His blessing on our pets, in the vein of Deut 28:4’s livestock. Which may explain why Mitch’s dogs dodged bullets and car axles. I slept peacefully, knowing Zydeco was fine, and I got a chuckle from the oh-so-basic “web vet.”

If nothing about canine temperature-taking strikes you as hilarious, maybe it’s just me whose humor is as sick as a dog. But I sure hope you find something funny in your world, before it eats you alive! If you’ve been in ministry five minutes, you know that wherever two or three are gathered together, you’ll find plenty to laugh or cry about. Take your pick.

I don’t know if a merry heart medicates a hound dog, but it works for you and me!