Accumulating Material

Forgive the cloudy image—the photo is taken through three panes of dirty glass—and also forgive my ornithological ignorance, but this nest has been a source of entertainment for weeks. The photo is of the awning outside my office window, where periodically finches will build a nest. It’s not an ideal location, as one of these metal slats the awning is made of, but on the left side, outside the frame, is missing, which led to a horrific blue jay attack some years ago. They don’t build a nest every year, and I think it’s been several since they have.

But when they do, they’re never like this. They’re historically much humbler, controlled affairs. This one is absurd, hanging down at least a foot below the awning, flapping all over the place when it’s windy, threatening to come loose, and surely attracting the attention of larger, meaner birds, like those beautiful, nasty jays. And yet it persists. I’ve seen a couple of birds in there, though between the cloudy glass and the size of the nest, it’s very difficult to make out who it is, but they don’t look like finches.

It’s hard to tell if the nest has stopped growing at this point, but I got to watch it accumulate material for weeks. At first it looked like a sloppy finch’s nest, then whoever is building it hit the motherlode of what looked like shredded bark or something, which really amplified their ambitions for the place. Then at some point they found these clear plastic strips, and then they just shoved as much grass as they could in there. It’s really something. Reminds me of a couple of novels I abandoned.

In this age of Marie Kondo, I think I just wanted to put in a good word for accumulation, for absurd excess. I don’t know if this nest sparks joy for the birds, but it has for me.