I park my bike under a crepe myrtle tree at the gym. The small limbs make it simple to use the lock and chain. You might think a gym would have a bike rack, but those are few and far between here. I'm lucky to have the tree.
So one day, I looked up.
Yep. It's a bird's nest, looking from the bottom. To my knowledge, it is not in use. Given that it's so close to a door, I wonder if it was found acceptable after it was built. Or perhaps the eggs hatched, and the new ones flew away leaving the next to fall apart, slowly at first, then faster, especially once it hits the ground.
My mother would tell you the nest is full of lice. I do not think that's true. There might be a bug or two, but I really doubt you'd discover a population of lice lurking among the assemblage of twigs. However, her line was sufficient to keep the nests out of the house when we were growing up.
What I'd like to do is get closer to the nest to take a better look. To do that, I'd have to make a spectacle of myself in front of all the other gym peeps, and then there're the gym administrators to consider. Getting that closer look would just lead to a lot of unnecessary conversation. Mind you, I can stand being the old coot on a chair taking a picture while all the gym peeps gawk. That's easy, and I really don't care that they'd write me off as the off-center old man who spends too much time on the treadmill.
What I don't want is the gym dude, handsome though he might be, terminating my membership for some reason that'd really look good on the local news.
There will be more bird's nest, I'm sure.