When I was little, The Best Nest  was my favorite bedtime story (ironic, given that I’ve grown up with an irrational, debilitating fear of birds).  If you’re not familiar with the story, here’s a run-down.  Mrs. Bird wakes up one morning and decides she’s sick of the tiny little birdhouse she and Mr. Bird have shared for, the reader must assume, the early years of their marriage, and she’s ready to move on up.  So she sends Mr. Bird out on the task of finding more suitable accommodations.  Mr. Bird, eager to please his young wife (who seems a little needy, in hindsight, if you ask me), tries out all kinds of alternatives in an effort to please her: a church tower, which is lovely until the bells ring, a pleasant tree, which becomes very unpleasant when Mr. Raccoon returns home. . .