A mossy mystery nest in the hawthorn

The nest sits in the middle of the hawthorn in front of us, silent and inscrutable. We contemplate it, tucked securely among thorny branches, at the edge of a frozen slough near the Bitterroot River. Perhaps it contemplates us, too. It’s a flat, mossy cup, larger than my two fists. Our question today is simple enough: whose nest is this? But if we hope to find an answer, we’ll have to use all our powers of observation and imagination.