Birds prove humans aren’t the only weavers

I stroll outdoors nearly every day. It’s exercise with a small “e.” As I walked along Lincoln Street in Bangor recently, I spied a bird’s nest on the ground under a maple tree, blown there, I suppose, by one of those great thunderstorms that passed through the area. That the nest remained intact after falling from the tree was testimony to its durability.

Clearly, the birds had vacated the nest, and whatever bird family it had sheltered during the summer was long gone. Perhaps the birds were already making plans to head south with groups of other birds of a feather.

The nest I found measures about 5 inches in diameter from edge to edge, with a central hollow measuring about 2 inches in diameter. It is made of slender gray twigs interlaced with dark gray coarse grass. The inner hollow is lined with russet-colored pine needles. It is perfectly round, perfect in its utility, perfect in its use of natural materials. Unfortunately, I am not well enough versed in bird lore to know what kind of bird called the nest home – a small bird, a finch or sparrow, perhaps.

The bird that built the nest, by beak, wove in a shiny white and blue plastic strip at the bottom of the nest. Perhaps the narrow strand fluttered in the breeze and warned away door-to-door solicitors – or foiled unwanted telemarketing calls.

Or maybe the strand was the bird’s design statement, to let all and sundry in the branches above Lincoln Street know that here was a nest imbued with artistic taste and architectural distinction. Perhaps the strand was a useful marker, such as reflector lights at the end of a driveway, marking not only the parameters of home, but to let friends and neighbors know that this nest was where this particular Mr. and Mrs. Bird lived.

The bird builder added a single, small curled green leaf to the nest, placed near the base and beside another shorter blue plastic strand. Bits of feather down also embellish the nest, testimony perhaps of the successful rearing of several baby birds.

The nest fit neatly in my hand and I carried it back to my desk in the newsroom and placed it where I can look it.

Years ago, I discovered nests in my neighborhood lined with hair I’d combed out of my Siberian huskies. A colleague told me of finding in the shrubbery of her yard a nest equipped with a small mat made of pet hair that served as a covering for the eggs.

I have found nests of dried grass studded with emerald green moss and bits of pale green lichen. For many years, a pair of phoebes nested in the eaves of my house, their nest a fine concoction of mud and moss. As I child, I loved to see Baltimore orioles’ pouch-like nests swaying from the branches of towering elms lining Main Street in Bingham.

We humans like to think we invented weaving, but take a stroll and look around. It is evident that weaving has been around far longer those of us with opposable thumbs. Any bird’s nest is mute testimony to that.

Like birds, we humans build nests, too – made of the fibers of rigid plants, also known as trees, we gather and shape into timbers and shingles. We feather our nests with items woven by machine or by hand – carpets, curtains, sheets, towels, and other cozy furnishings made of natural and synthetic fibers.

Perhaps we are more akin to birds than we know.

Snippets

. The Brewer Stitchers will hold a sewing and crafting supplies yard sale from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday, Sept 11, at 35 Broadlawn Drive in Brewer. Items for sale will include fabric, yarn, crochet cotton, embroidery thread, knitting needles, patterns, books, magazines and needlework kits. The sale will help purchase materials for winter community projects.

. Those who love fibers arts will be cheered to hear that “Un/Coverings: Contermporary Maine Fiber Art” and “Eve Peri: Fiber Artist” will open Sunday, Sept. 19, at the Farnsworth Museum in Rockland.

“Un/Coverings” is a Maine Fiberarts: State of Fiber 2004 event.

Eve Peri, 1897-1966, was born in Bangor. She lived in Mexico and New York City and was a designer and fabricator of hand woven and embroidered textiles.

To learn more about the exhibits, call the museum at 569-6457.

Ardeana Hamlin welcomes suggestions. Call 990-8153, or e-mail ahamlin@bangordailynews.net.