The hummingbird was all about that, and guzzled down juice to feed its ferocious little metabolism. My cousin returned and mixed sugar-water and tried that. It was easier to get the hummingbird to drink from a drop on the grape or on a finger than from the pipette my cousin brought down.
He fed the hummingbird while I looked up rehabilitators. I located something vaguely local and called them; I called back when I realized they were less local than I thought. The person advised me that given my description of the way the hummingbird was acting, it was likely that it would not survive the trip, but I wound up being referred to http://www.peninsulahumanesociety.org/ in any case. We put the hummingbird in a box with a washcloth and I turned the heat up in the car. I could take my little car's heater on full blast uncomfortably, but I wouldn't die of it, and the hummingbird might die of chill if I didn't.
When I showed up, I was told that he was an adult Anna's Hummingbird, and they put him in an incubator in the back room. They were busy, and they didn't know whether he'd make it or not, but he at least had a fighting chance.