The Bird Nest

Bikes that have fallen into disrepair appear regularly in our lives. Cyclists are particularly sensitized to notice them as they hide out along the sides of houses and relegated to the backs of sheds. We look for bikes, and when we see a clunker out at the curb with a "Free" sign hanging from it, we even contemplate our options. However, there are stages of disrepair that bikes fall through before becoming complete junkers, and these early stages can be particularly enlightening.

For a lot of kids, their bikes fall into disrepair when they hit their teenage years. It's no longer cool to be seen pedaling a bike, and raising a sweat has suddenly become a distinct disadvantage in social situations. So, the bike hangs in the garage, protected from the elements but slowly rusting and growing stiff and outdated.

Adults who flirt with cycling can have furtive relationships with their bikes, which means bouts of neglect and bursts of rehabilitation. The bike may have a long winter hanging or sitting, then be enthusiastically embraced with the first days of spring, only to fall back into the category of the forgotten once the swimming pools open. These bouts of repair may seem hopeful at times, but really just constitute a multi-stage descent into disrepair.

Even serious cyclists can let bikes fall into disrepair, as newer bikes are purchased and the old ones are ridden less often.

But I recently heard a great story of a new stage of bike disrepair -- the bird's nest. In this case, the person I talked with had a bike hanging on his garage wall, entering a state of disrepair and neglect, but reminding him that he used to ride and should ride again. His helmet still hung suspended from the handlebars, like a bowl. In the past few months, he had often left his garage open most of the day, working from home and enjoying the mild spring climate. Recently, he heard a strange noise in his garage one morning, and sure enough, noticed that a sparrow had built a nice nest in his bike helmet, and was carefully cultivating a couple of eggs.

Now, why I like this story is that it works on several levels. For the human involved, the bike has definitely fallen into disrepair, and the sparrow's nest represents a poignant reminder of empty promises to ride and months of procrastination. However, for the sparrow, the bike is now a home (or, at least, the helmet is), and the neglect has yielded a safe, warm, and useful home. The bike is so neglected it has entered the ecosystem, and its usefulness has crossed species. It is no longer useful to humans, but has gone to the birds.