Apparently, their goings-on paid dividends, for recent inspections revealed that they had built a full-blown nest in there. I had thought, in my typically ill-informed manner, that they would simply lay a bit of straw down on the bottom, but I was very wrong, my dear. They constructed a complete and elaborate nest right inside the birdhouse; it even has a roof (or overhang) on it.
Usually, Mrs Sparrow flies off the moment that someone comes out either the back or side door, but last night I was whipper-snipping right by the birdhouse, and I spied her beady little eye staring starkly at me. I deduced that she must have laid eggs, but I was behind the times, for Cuppa had a closer look later when neither Mr or Mrs were home, and she glimpsed three tiny mouths, agape and pointing heavenward.
It's all in the nick of time too, for they should be grown and departed from the nest when we are ready to convey their abode across the province.
I think it's all remarkable: the incredibly well constructed nest, Mother Sparrow's willingness to sit in there and stare me down, and the throb of life ever cycling. What a joy it all is!