Those of us who open our minds and hearts to the wonders of the natural world around us find there is no way we can be cynical. And while I am not a “bird lover” as such, I have seen such a number of amazing characteristics in just the mating habits I have observed that so reflect human mating behavior that - though I feel like a voyeur - I stand there and watch, fascinated. How like some males we wish we hadn’t run into is this: as I was wandering in the remote regions of Australia’s northern territory, there - on the ground was a very large tented structure of twigs and branches, open at both ends. Its structure was worthy of an architect. Seriously! But this architect was the male bowerbird - who had made his own bower to entice a mate. But - as in life - competition abounds. So for what had to be months, the male has found - in such a remote and desolate nowhere - brightly colored stones and anything silvery, letting us know he had to go far afield to find these gems. But to the female, instead of diamonds, anything in brightly colored blue were the piece de resistance. The gems lined each side of the large bower, and I must admit it was like being offered a Hamptons mansion and Tiffanys combined. The male now gave his call, a male Pavoratti at his best, and a female appeared out of nowhere. The male, skilled at dancing and bowing, attracted her to the ground level in front of the bower - his performance superlative - the best of all aspects of Italian opera. By the third act, frankly, I am almost ashamed to tell you - but I almost would have gone into the bower. But the female peeked in, flew up to a branch, and a second performance began. Again, down for another peek. . and a closer look at her gems within. Remember - the female can pick and choose. She can wait for the larger house and more blue stones elsewhere - and as women do, often does. But once she stepped in his “mansion, adorned with the most beautiful gems in the world, for a closer look, like many men we know, he moved fast. Consummation was so brief that I thought “He is kidding! This male bowerbird spent months on this place and flew a hundred miles for gems - and it is over in seconds.” And yes, it was …and she went out the other end of the bower . . . flew away to make her own nest in a tree and raise her babies alone. While he . . . well, gals, there is always another female in wait for the home and the jewels . . . and knows she has to be content with a one-night-stand with Pavoratti. And yet — like in our own worlds, there are birds that mate for life. . . and you and I would kill for the wonderful treatment that those mates give to their loved ones. Men should observe the mate-for-life birds more often and learn how ladies like to be treated. In fact, I think it should be a required course for boys before finishing high school. Don’t we all?????

Certainly not the very small penis.

Oooh yes the butterfly—lovely position and excellent for the woman actually/ If you need an internet link let me know lol

Frank . . . you and I writing on a rather obscure but wonderfully fascinating bird at the same time. Is there some hidden meaning in that ? But in the “can you top this” competition, high on the right top of Australia is a very hard to get to place called Cape York. . . and in that area are a breed of cockatoos that have a sex life that has to be seen to be believed. Both the male and the female - can I say it - are sex maniacs. Are some humans mimicing them or is it the reverse? Who cares - the story is that good. First, the scene has to be set. This is not suburbia here. The trees are sparse and widely spread over hundreds of miles. These cockatoos drill into the bark and make their nests within. The male of the couple helps more than most men would ever think of doing. I have to be frank here. He not only brings in the comfy nesting material, but brings all the food to his mate and his chicks. Settled in, she doesn’t leave her little home. Now here is the good part - or the bad part if you are prudish. The male has to be gone for days, as cockatoos don’t just eat junk. So he may have to fly 100 miles to bring in the nourishing goodies for his chicks. But in those hundred miles are other nesting ladies, sitting alone and waiting. The male cockatoo is amazing looking, his spreading comb worthy of a king. OK, I have a big imagination and she does look like Mae West. So I imagine her poking out, calling “Come up and see me sometime, baby”. And so he does. After all, it passes the time for them both. Well, doesn’t it? The kids get to be too much pretty quickly to be brutally honest. So the male cockatoo husband dutifully brings back the food in 4 days, but if you look closely - really closely, he has a smile on his face. A trail of mistresses along the food route make going to the grocery like grabbing the brass ring in my book. But — and here is the punchline, the cockatoo’s “wife” is bored for attention while he is gone. So guess what? She too has a string of lovers who have come and gone when her internal clock says 4 days have elapsed. So it is one happy family - with all the bill and cooing and everyone happy when the male returns. . . and the plentiful food on the table is just frosting on that bird’s cake!! Recognize anyone you know??????