The little bird looks like a little gem flying. Their colours are like gems, blue, ruby, red, and golden. I am familiar with their calls and as soon as I hear them in the distance, I run toward them. The southern double-collared sunbird is a tiny bird with a big call. It shines like a gem flying through the air in the afternoon sun, a piece of gold moving through space with the most beautiful grace.

It perches itself on the top of a flower, dominating the space. For such a tiny bird, it has a tremendous aura floating around it. Maybe it knows its own beauty, flaunting it to whoever dares to look.

I find myself in familiar territory, running behind this tiny friend who zooms from one flower to the next. How can we not appreciate its beauty? How can we not bask in its splendour? The tiny bird demands me to look at it, demands me to recognise its beauty.

Before I go on with these philosophy musings, I share with you the photographs. I hope that you enjoy their beauty, and that you can also bask in them like I did. I will muse a bit more at the end of the post.

Beauty That Demands Me to Look

It is almost like its beauty grabs onto my face, demanding me to look. The colours pop through the photographs, through the lens, through the monitor. It shouts its call, but it could have also been the shout for attention, to draw others closer so that it can capture their souls, demanding them to look at the gold, the red, the black of its eyes.

Would it know itself when a mirror is held up in front of it? Would it recognise the beauty that has captured so many's attention? Would it succumb to the narcissistic trap if it would ever sit still for long enough in front of the mirror? I am sure that if it sees itself it would understand the allure we have for it. But in the present moment, the arrogance is merely my projection onto this tiny friend, mere anthropomorphizing, attributing human emotions to an animal.

The flower is just like the bird whose beauty is not for them but for me, the person doing the gazing. What does it even mean to look at this little friend, what am I doing? Why is the mere presence of colour such a drawing feature, something that literally pulls me, tugs at me, why is it that I cannot look away?

Colour attacks attention. I listen to the call that tugs at my heart. But other animals do not really see what we see. Why is this the case? Why is the camouflage beautiful to me? Is this not the exact opposite of what it intended to do?

Such a strange world we live in sometimes.