Oh birds. We have had some rough times together. I do such a good job of never eating you and yet you torment me. Dive bombs. Excrement. Shouting at me through the fire-escape window. Biting. Honking. General rudeness. And yet as days get shorter and colder and I become less inclined to go out of doors (which is, coincidentally, where you reek your havoc, so think about that) I’m inspired by you. Not in that Oprah way, where I want to spread my wings or soar like a eagle, or believe I can fly like R. Kelly. Nope. Every morning I make a replica of your homes. I set myself up in a fluffy nest and get down to work.

This here nest bed (made by the obvious geniuses, Merav Eitan and Gaston Zahr) would really cut down on nest building time. Something I’m sure you birds would agree with. Because building from scratch is hard work. I mean, I’m not using twigs and sticks or anything, but sometimes getting all the pillows and blankets and sweaters and electronics and tea cups and pastries to co-operate is difficult. Anyway, if you’d like to make peace would you consider dropping this little number off to me, stork-style? Ok. Thanks.