The acorn bird house on the deck took ages to attract a resident when first put up a year or so ago. Birds seem to trust a food source far sooner than they do an abode, which makes sense. The first occupant was a downy woodpecker and I was delighted to look out each morning and see him with his head poked out of the doorway, looking back at me. I had watched him spend ages enlarging that hole and when he had flown away for a meal or to socialize I would go close and admire the workmanship and progress. I wished for extraordinary vision to see just what he had used to decorate the home – I had put various materials nearby for his selection – but I had to rely on my imagination. When the first windstorm of the season tossed and turned that house I worried about the bird but his usual appearance the next morning reassured me that he must have ‘sea legs’. However I did eye the rope holding the house with some alarm – it had been there across several seasons and looked a bit frayed. So, giving in to worrisome, I waited until bird had left one morning and with great care added a stout piece of fishing line to the loop of rope. I did not think I disturbed the home at all. But I must have. Downy woodpecker vacated. I felt terrible. And my upset at having interfered only finally abated, I realized, when I saw a sparrow peering out at me the other day. And each morning since. I think it is a sparrow. It may be a finch. It swoops away mightily and so far my eyes have not been quick enough for a definite identification. I don’t care. It is a bird. It is being sheltered in something I put up with that intent. It shares an early morning greeting with me. The winds are no cause for alarm this time. I assume it is a good sailor, as I imagine all birds must be.