It is the tiniest nest. It easily fits in the hand of a small child; this small Wax eye’s nest I found on the ground. The more I look at it, the more intricate it seems…every strand, twig, and leaf all carefully woven together to be strong and warm. Although it is rough on the exterior, it is smooth and softly lined on the interior. A perfect home at some time for a Wax eye (and maybe their family)?
It makes me think about the word home. Our own homes, after all, are not that different really. They protect us from the elements, provide shelter, a safe haven on our return from elsewhere. They are also comfy and warm on the inside. Ours too, as we see everyday on the news, are no less fragile (in the big scheme of things), nor immune to the effects of mother nature, deliberate sabotage, poor workmanship, or tragedy.
Our home, no matter whether we human or tiny bird, is our refuge, our sanctuary, our place to rest. Let us hope that the little Wax eye had already abandoned this home, when I chanced upon it lying on the ground.