“Your hair will be the best – the silver lining for my nest."

As a child I spend time day dreaming of curling up in birds’ nests. But never could I have imagined that this might include being cradled in a soft bed of my own silver hair, expertly woven by thrushes. These flirtatious unassuming birds are collecting my fine hairs – which have turned completely white in the past couple of decades. They become high quality material for their nests’ silver lining creating an extra soft bed for eggs and babies. Since discovering this twenty years ago, I have taken to brushing my hair outdoors, head upside down. Silver hair floating away in the breeze… The desire to be of use, to be recycled...

 

Found another nest with my hair recently as I was pruning in jasmine jungle 

Nest Weaver 

 

I dream among oak, apple, plum and cedar 

Leaves, grasses, seeds and rock 

The damsel thrush is gently pecking 

Repeated motion – stillness 

 

She eyes me coyly, waits 

Thin long translucent strands 

Hang from her bill like whiskers 

A tidy bundle she has gathered 

 

I approve congratulate till dawns on me: my graying hairs 

Picked with precision from the ground 

Unnoticed was my shedding 

 

She flicks her tail and seems aware 

Of my inquiring glances, my surprise 

“Your hair will be the best – 

The silver lining for my nest.” 

 

And off she flies to weave her home 

With silken hairs for eggs and chicks 

So delicate soon to be arriving

 

I’m left with quiet satisfaction 

Feel feather light – recycled 

Becoming nest and comfort for new life 

I feel quite honored, heard and seen

 

Maybe it’s simple – just like that 

To be of humble use 

For nest weaver’s gathering

 

I lose – she finds 

In patience we 

transform

(Excerpt from a poem I wrote in 2004)