One sunny winter afternoon while knitting in the garden, a Wattle bird hopped down from the Banksia tree for a closer inspection. It looked curiously at me and then the ball of wool, then disappeared around the corner of the house. I thought no more of it and went inside to make a cup of tea.
As I glanced out the kitchen window I noticed that the Wattle bird was gently pecking at the ball of wool. When I returned, the wool was unravelling into the shrubbery.
I followed the yarn around the trunk of the Banksia tree, through the rosemary bush, over the garlic chives, past the lemon tree and then swinging up into the hakea trees on the side fence. Peering up into the tree branches I saw the Wattle bird building a nest. I returned to my chair and snipped off the yarn.
Months later when the birds had abandoned their nest, I climbed up to see what had happened to the woollen yarn. The nest was a messy assortment of twigs and sticks held together with dried grasses, my woollen yarn and matted hair from a neighbour’s white Samoyed dog.
This work was first exhibited in Vessel at the CraftACT gallery in 2010.