For nine years, Elias Penn set his pocket watch by the sparrow. At eleven o'clock sharp the little brown bird dropped onto the third spoke of the fountain, cocked its head, and stayed exactly forty seconds. But this Tuesday the square was nearly empty when it should have been full of people and pigeons. Elias stood by the fountain, watch open in his hand, and waited. Eleven o'clock came. The sparrow did not.

Elias forgot about the empty square. He only cared about the sparrow. In nine years it had never missed a day. He climbed onto the fountain's edge and peered at the third spoke, looking for any sign of the little bird.

On the third spoke, caught in a crack, was a single brown feather. Below it, wedged where the spoke met the rim, sat a tiny twig nest. Two pale eggs rested inside. The sparrow hadn't left the fountain at all. It had been building a home here the whole time.

Elias couldn't leave the eggs. He hurried to the newsstand and found Mrs. Otto, who knew the town's bird-watching club. Within an hour, three volunteers and a wildlife officer arrived. They photographed the nest and filed an emergency protection notice on the fountain. The demolition would have to wait.