Last year I found a palm-sized, cup-shaped nest on the ground below the green tangle on my laundry shed wall — a mix of wisteria and Twining Guinea Flower climbing through an almost espaliered plumbago shrub.
It was a delicate concoction of moss and grass stems, web and what looked like cotton, or masticated paper.
I had seen it hanging up there, unused, for some time, and now it had blown down. I kept it.
Last week there was another, slightly larger nest on the ground in the same place. Whatever bird was making these, it clearly had a problem with adhesion to its chosen base, as the nests were featherlight on their own.
I took this one back to the house too. I found two thumb-sized plastic baby dolls to inhabit them and await the next visit from my grandchildren. I hope they will be as fascinated as I am by the weaving skills of a tiny bird.