The Satin Bowerbird is one of the strange things of the universe. Inhabiting the cool mountain forests of eastern Australia, this beautiful species (Ptilonorhynchus violaceus) is a member of the family Paradisaeidae, bowerbirds and birds of paradise. Mr. Satin is the glossiest black imaginable, with iridescent highlights of blue and purple. Mrs. Satin, more modest, is clothed in modish green, scaled with subtle bronze markings. Both have eyes the color of Kanchanaburi sapphire.

Their beauty, however, is not what makes them strange. Mr. Satin has a passion, and that passion is for all things blue. This passion gets him into trouble, so in his homeland, he is called by the locals "Jock the Thief." As a bowerbird, Jock lures females in for breeding by constructing a bower, or "love-nest hut." Jock contructs his bower with great care, weaving twigs and grasses into a narrow, arching avenue, fronted by a wide, flat apron. Females are attracted to the bower, where he mates with every one he can attract. Each female departs to raise her young alone, leaving Jock to maintain the splendor of the bower. Every day Jock patrols his bower, weaving and straightening, adding and tidying. But his bower MUST be decorated with blue, especially on the apron. Every day, Jock goes in search of more blue objects for the apron of his bower.

Before the advent of man, I imagine that Jock collected blue parrot feathers, blue blossoms and berries, and the odd bluish pebble to display on his apron. Flowers wither, feathers fade, and berries rot or are eaten by other creatures. To keep his blues, Jock would have to work every day to weed out the faded blue things and bring in fresh, bright blues. People, however, make blue things, and they leave them out where Jock can see them. Jock, being a bright fellow, seizes every opportunity. I have seen bower aprons covered with blue clothespins, blue plastic razors, bits of blue glass, blue tops of toothpaste tubes--and with a mishmash of scraps of blue paper, fragments of blue plastic of unrecognizable origin, tiny blue trucks, a blue toothbrush, blue barrettes, a blue plastic soldier, and other odds and ends. All are beautiful to Jock the Thief. I once fought a losing battle with Jock in a campground; he flew off with the top to my dishwashing detergent.

One drizzly, gray day, I discovered one of Jock's bowers in a small opening in the forest. There was so little light that I knew a hasty snapshot of Jock and his bower would capture only a blur, so I brought my towel, spread it on the damp ground near the bower, and lay down on it, steadying my camera on the ground. At first, Jock was rather shy of me, so I determined to wait out his caution. I fell asleep. I was awakened by a sharp tug on the corner of my towel, and opening my eyes, found myself face-to-face with Jock the Thief. I was astonished to see those sapphire eyes dilating from blue to purple and back with sheer excitement. Jock wanted my towel. "Imagine," he was probably thinking, "my entire apron in bright blue. I shall be king!" For without realizing what it would mean to Jock, I had been lying on a velour towel of brightest royal blue! I didn't give Jock my towel for his bower, because it was the only one I had brought on the expedition, but I did cut off a small piece for him. Please enjoy Uncialle's photograph of Jock the Thief, seen above, taken on that dark day in the mountain rainforest of eastern Queensland.

Gather your treasures--blue, or green, or shimmering with the colors of memories. Guard them well--Jock has sharp eyes! <

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