Yesterday a hummingbird approached the feeder, flying like a bumble-bee, i.e. clearly near the point at which his girth was too much for his wings to keep aloft.
But he managed to alight upon the perch and began to feed.
In fact, after sipping for a while from the feeder, the trajectory of his exit was governed more by gravity than by his own will.
Having traveled no more than one foot horizontally from the feeder and descending six feet, he made an abrupt and unorthodox semi-controlled landing in the herb-garden.
He realized that now is not the time to fight gravity. Instead he decided to act as thought he just really wanted a nap. And so he sat there, a needle-nosed, iridescent Cartman, waiting to regain his morning strength.
Some time later, he was gone.
