A Tangled Vine Ball

Curiosity pulled me away from the low table toward the bright patch of floor by the glass patio door. Resting in the warm spill of light was a dark brown sphere woven entirely from twisted grapevines. I leaned in close, resting the tip of my bill against its rough, gnarly knots. It felt completely different from the smooth wicker earlier—scratchy, firm, and stiff with tiny curled tendrils catching against my beak. When I gently rolled it forward, it wobbled on its uneven surface, leaving a fine sprinkle of dry brown bark dust across the polished floorboards.