With only weeks until we expect the arrival of our second child, it is safe to say that my nesting instincts have kicked in to full-force. These instincts seem to naturally kick-in resulting in a focussed fussing over anything relating to the new baby - the nursery, the general cleanliness and safety of the house, and any other loose ends that can be tidied up before the baby's arrival.
Thinking of this instinct, and the process of nesting, makes me reflect on the most impressive nests I've encountered - the huge, imposing stork's nests I was in awe of last year whilst visiting family in Germany.
These birds are an icon of the region just as much as their nests - strategically positioned atop church spires, barns, old homes, just about anywhere. The nest's up-scaled size means that branches and sticks replace the more malleable and fine twigs used by smaller birds, creating large, woven, basket-like nests over a metre in diameter.
The nesting instinct of the Stork demonstrates a design instinct in action: fuelled by the need to care and nurture for its offspring, resulting in large sculpted, architectural forms that assert the right to belong and be a part of the local landscape.
The crafting and design of a nest is ultimately a matter of survival: positioned with optimal vantage points of the surrounding landscapes, and within access to local and abundant food sources. A stork's nest is all about comfort, care and a sense of homeliness - just like us humans, they want the very best start to life for their offspring.
This is the type of design that I love, and that we work towards at Songbird. Not just something that looks good or impressive, but something that plays a significant role in improving and enhancing our lives and the lives of others.
Images: Stork & Nest; Stork street art, Strasbourg, France (by author).