Hummingbird Heart

The Hummingbird Heart is a refreshing and simple cocktail (only four ingredients!) that serves as a perfect pick-me-up on a hot summer day.

PREPARATION 

1) Decide to see a movie.  

2) On the way to the theater, find a hummingbird on the ground.  
NOTE: Pay attention to its dark wings, crooked and splayed on the sidewalk. Notice how rapidly it breathes, its tiny heart heaving through its chest. 

3) Google “hurt hummingbird on the ground.”  

4) Read results that say the bird is likely exhausted and/or stunned, that it’s best to feed it sugar water.  

5) Kneel and pick up the bird carefully, preparing for it to struggle or fly away.  
NOTE: It won’t. If it weren’t for its racing heartbeats, you would think the bird was dead. It is so small you can hold it between your thumb and forefinger. 

6) Decide not to see your movie and—this is a crucial step—be close to your work, which is in a building that has a bar that isn’t open today.  

7) Get to the bar as quickly as possible, but not so fast you disturb the bird further.  

8) Find something to put the bird in: for example, a small cardboard box holding random items like coasters and paper clips. Turn the box upside down and empty it onto the floor, then place the bird inside. Remove your jacket and throw it across the bar, paying no attention to whatever items may fling out (a movie theater ticket, your phone, your earbuds). Fuck all of that stuff.  

9) Search for simple syrup in the bartender’s fridge of ingredients.  
NOTE: Okay, you know they have it. You’ve seen it how many times? Of course it’s here. Fuck, alright. You don’t see it. No big deal; we’ll just make some. Easy! Just need sugar and water, that’s it. So where’s the sugar? You cannot seriously be telling me there’s no fucking sugar here. How’s that guy make it, then? At home? Does he make simple syrup at home and bring it here? That can’t be right. Okay, calm down. Here’s a bottle of honey simple syrup. Same thing, right? Hummingbirds probably eat honey? It’s natural. Google it, though, just to be sure. Holy fuck, no, hummingbirds can’t eat honey! They can get serious bacterial infections and die. This tiny little creature, shining like an emerald when a beam of late afternoon sunlight comes through the window and hits it, is barely breathing now. Slam the honey syrup back in the fridge. Then see it: the regular simple syrup, nestled perfectly in the back, between the fresh lime juice and vanilla bean infusion. Oh, thank god. Things are finally looking up. 

INGREDIENTS 

Simple syrup 
Water 
1/2 a rocks glass (roughly 3 oz) bourbon 
One dying hummingbird  

1) Google says DIY hummingbird nectar is a solution of one part sugar to four parts water. Because simple syrup is 1:1, you’ll need to dilute it with extra water. You can try to do the math, or you can kinda eyeball this because, again, this bird is dying.  

2) Stir the mixture of syrup and water in a shallow coupe glass.  
NOTE: As you mix, notice the tendrils of syrup catching sunlight as they swirl in the water until they’re properly mixed and the entire glass seems to glow like some sacred chalice. A life-giving elixir.   

SERVING 

1) Gently pick up the hummingbird and tilt its beak toward the coupe glass.  
NOTE: It will flap suddenly and you will drop the entire bird into the sticky sugar water. Scream out loud, “Fuck! Fuck, I’m making it worse! I make everything worse!” Then remember that this bar has cameras, which your boss does sometimes watch, and that those cameras do have audio. Become embarrassed, but only briefly, because however much of an ass you’ve made of yourself already, it can’t get any worse. Pick up the bird and turn on a nearby sink. Gently wash the bird. Locate a roll of paper towels—a task that, like finding the simple syrup, will feel surprisingly, frustratingly difficult. Jesus. Okay, there they are. Place the bird on a bed of paper towels to dry. It doesn’t have to stay in the box; it’s not going anywhere. It will cry out, small chirps, barely audible. You didn’t even know hummingbirds make noise. That’s probably not normal. It’s going to die even faster now and that’s your fault. You fuck up everything you touch. To think you could help was stupid. You should have just gone to your stupid movie. Begin to cry.     

2) Okay, stop crying. Everything is going to be fine. What about a straw? Those tiny cocktail straws. You’ve seen bartenders taste drinks before: they take the cocktail straw, dip it in the drink, put a finger over top of the straw to create suction so it won’t drip out. Google says this makes sense, but not to force-feed the bird.  

3) Pour yourself that half glass of bourbon, neat, and drink it.  

4) Pick up the bird in one hand and place the straw—a drop of sugar water glistening at the end like a white opal—near its beak. The bird’s eyes will weakly blink and its tongue will dart out so quickly you won’t be sure if that’s what you saw. A moment will pass. Is that it? It’s not going to drink any more? Suddenly, its eyes will open wide and its tongue will flick out several more times. You’re doing it. You’re actually fucking doing it.  

5) Call your girlfriend and tell her what’s happening. She will immediately join you to help.  

6) Together, go to a pet store to buy a cage and actual hummingbird food. Search for a wildlife shelter and be pissed it’s closed for the day; thankfully, your girlfriend will agree to drop the bird off in the morning.  

7) Continue feeding the bird with extra cocktail straws from the bar. Check on it throughout the evening. Place a towel over the cage so it can sleep.  

8) Wake up from the hour or two of sleep you managed. Run into the kitchen and see that the bird looks better! Seriously so much better. You’ll feed it again and it will fly! It will have the strength to perch on the side of the cage, staring at you. You tell yourself it’s looking at you lovingly.  

9) Escort the hummingbird to your girlfriend’s car and place it on the passenger seat. It will be chilly out; she will turn the heat on low so the bird doesn’t get cold.  

10) Take a picture of them in the car, her waving and it looking up at you. They both look so sweet. Your heart will swell; it will beat fast. So fast.  

11) Go back inside and begin to cry.    
NOTE: This time, happily.     

Eric Boyd is the winner of a PEN Prison Writing Award as well as the 2023 Foundry Prize in Fiction. His work has appeared in Had, Cutleaf, and The Rose Books Reader, as well as the anthologies Prison Noir (Akashic Books) and Words Without Walls (Trinity University Press), and he is the editor of The Pittsburgh Anthology (Belt Publishing). Boyd briefly studied at Maharishi International University in Fairfield, Iowa, before receiving an MFA in Brooklyn, New York. He is currently working on a novel. More at eric-boyd.com

This essay is a Short Reads original.