A loud buzz vibrated through the house.  Bewildered, we followed the sound to the front room, where we discovered a hummingbird that had flown through the open door and had lost its way.  With a thump, she fluttered into the glass window  fifteen feet above the door she had previously entered through.  Was there really anything we could do?  But the tiny bird was exerting her energy fast, her little wings humming 60 MPH.  Quickly she dropped onto the ledge, unable to continue but for a few more short bursts of fruitless flying. If we did nothing, she would die, left to bake in the hot AZ sun.  So we developed a plan.  Rachel and I spread a sheet below, and Mom took a broom from the second story to prod the air around the bird to scare her away from the window.  It worked.  But instead, the bird flew into the living room and fell, exhausted, on the mantle.  Mom carefully scooped her up with a towel.  I have never seen a hummingbird lie so still,  yet she perched in Mom's palm for ten minutes as we offered her sugar water and urged her into a tree.  Then, without warning, she zipped away.