That pile of brush is the better part of a sparrow's nest we found inside the grill--after we turned it on. I noticed some sparrows hanging around the grill lately, and figured they must have a nest in a nearby tree. Uh, a little closer, actually. The parents fled without us noticing, but the eggs inside were roasted before we discovered the nest's presence.
I've been miserable, imagining the sparrows congratulating themselves on finding such a secure location to raise a family, as storm after storm blew through over the last couple of weeks, only to be rousted from their home by a terrible conflagration.
Today, I read Marguerite's blog, and learned something new about house sparrows. I had no idea they were so destructive. I have largely (although not entirely) gotten over the loss of the sparrows, especially since I saw a bluebird in the backyard yesterday. First time I've ever seen one.
I really hope nothing else tries to nest in the grill, tho'. There's something forlorn about parentless eggs.