Follow the Senior Hummingbird

BUMP!! What is happening to me? Why can’t I spread my wings? Why can’t I fly away? What predator is this that is untangling me from the threads that bind me? Is he preparing to eat me?
He took those threads off that imprisoned me, but even though I try to flap my wings, I can’t fly.
Oh no! Now I’m in a different kind of prison. There are no threads holding me, but it’s dark like night in here. I can flap my wings, but I can’t fly away.
Those same bony fingers that took me out of the net and put me in a bag are now reaching in for me again. I can see this ugly predator now. He is so huge and is looking at me more curiously than hungrily. What does he want of me?
I try to flap my wings, but one strong finger encircling my neck and other fingers holding my legs keep me still against my will. Now he is spreading one wing, but not to let me fly. He uses a tool to measure it. Why doesn’t he just eat me and get it over with?
Now he’s holding one of my skinny legs and putting something around it. I don’t want anything on my leg. I kick as hard as I can, but it won’t come off. When is he going to kill me?
He’s turning me on my back. What a strange feeling. I’ve never been on my back before. I certainly can’t fly away this way. I want to bite him, but my beak has no power against him. Oh, he’s blowing on my underside with a gentle wind. Can’t he tell I’m a mother with babies waiting for me without uncovering my underside? This is terrible.
But it’s getting worse. He’s putting me upside down in a dark tube with my head against metal and my feet sticking up in the air. Why does he care how much I weigh?
He hasn’t really hurt me yet, but I’m frightened to death by all the strange positions and prisons he’s put me into.
Ah! I can feel the warm sun as he carries me into the sun. He puts me on my back on other open hands. But he’s still holding my legs.
I don’t feel any pressure on my legs now. Perhaps I can escape. Hooray! I’m flying again. I’m free. But why can’t I get this stupid band off my leg? What was this all about?
Birds may not be human, but they are sentient bird beings in the same world that humans inhabit. Attributing thinking and feeling to birds in human terms is risky.
But I couldn’t help imagining the bird’s perspective on being captured, recorded, and banded as we watched. Conservationists and even the U.S. government are extensively studying the birds for their own protection. Does this short term torture for the pretty songbirds lead to their long term protection?
Are we humans saving the birds? Will saving the birds save us?