The illustrious Vogelkop Bowerbird. Such little gentleman they are; they soften my heart. Birds have such an eye for beautiful things, and, apparently, a preference. A bird with a preference. They spend YEARS (did you hear me? YEARS) building their cozy, delicately crafted homes. All that just to impress her.
Now, I’m one who tries not to go around anthropomorphizing willy nilly, but I think there’s something here. These little birds reflect something terrifyingly vast and beautiful. If a bird can appreciate beauty and art, I think it’s everyone’s job to ask ‘why?’ He’s not proving himself to be the most fertile or strong, or even the most intelligent. His display for his love of beauty is what wins him a mate. And I cannot accept that this is a product of random inception, of a cosmos that burst forth simply to reproduce the survival of the fittest.