One of the coolest things about our new house is its abundance of weaver birds. There's one giant tree hanging over our cement yard, and it's full of tiny woven baskets with spouts coming out the bottom. Ryan D pointed out that we must have several species in the area because the nests at his house have side-spouts, whereas ours come out the bottom like "prolapsed rectums".

Last Saturday morning at 7am as I was waiting for Ngaire to pick me up for our long run, I watched all the mommy birds flooding their nests at once. They clung onto the spout entrances and stuck their heads up inside, and I could only assume that meant breakfast time.
So we all know that what goes in must come out. As our single male neighbor has been having more and more visitors lately (always well-dressed women who come and leave alone and occasionally make grunting noises in the kitchen while...cooking), our covered parking spot has occasionally been occupied, leaving us to park on the other side of the yard under the weaver bird tree.