A Bristly Tangle

Stepping out past the front door into the morning air, I spotted a small decorative ball rolled up against the mud-scraper mat. I tapped it with my beak to see how it might yield, but it was made of thick, tightly bound coconut coir fibers. Instead of giving way softly like yesterday's wool, it was prickly, wiry, and stiff, catching on the tip of my bill with a dry rasp. I leaned my weight forward to nudge it, watching it stubbornly tumble half a turn across the rough wooden deck boards, shedding a tiny sprinkle of tan bristles.