Everything I do is to puff up my feathers, to make my colors more shiny. Without even realizing it, I keep gathering all of the prettiest twigs and flowers in the forest in order to make a beautiful display. Despite what I may think, my only concentration is the sharpness of my beak and the curve of my claws.
And upon realizing this, I find myself extremely disappointed in how ordinary the ritual is.
But either I ruffle up my wings and try to look impressive, or I find a nice shell and live in a tide pool.
Who thought of such a horrible system?
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