I saw a bird flailing about in this cholla cactus over the weekend.
I felt sorry for it but wasn't about to stick my arm in there to set it free.
The next time I walked by, all was quiet.
I assumed the bird either: a) managed to escape on its own or
b) impaled itself and was dead.
Neither assumption was correct.
Way down in the middle of the cactus was the most beautiful egg
in an even more beautiful nest – constructed in part with Hank's tail hair.
I'm not sure how many eggs are in the nest.
I didn't want to risk impaling myself to find out.
I got out of there before Mama Bird returned and before I got stung,
but I'll keep checking back to see what hatches.