More of my beloved Nonexistent Theropods, this time in courting mode (rather like some of the birds that are still puffing up and singing their hearts out over here). We have a mate or suitor presenting a slightly bedraggled composite flower of some sort to his lady, who has stationed herself in a hollow tree to better collect her gifts. Her plumage is not quite so flashy (it really doesn’t need to be when you’re holed up in a dead tree), but she sports the same facial markings as the male — I picture these as serving a key, non-gender-specific social function, such as mood signalling or simply differentiating individuals at a glance (see also: gregarious seabirds, things with eyebrows). She has dark eyes instead of pale ones because … well, it seems to work okay for tortoises. Or maybe they have highly variable eye color like humans and domestic animals do.
The male’s tail might be lashing around for balance or as some kind of secondary display function, but then again it might also been too long to fit on the page if he held it straight out.
The rest of my day has been spent making chicken-mushroom risotto (yeah, I had leftovers to use up) and pondering the enigma of whistling. It’s like, the only sound commonly made by humans that doesn’t use your voice. This Deep Thought courtesy of my working in a place where co-workers are often within hearing range but not visible — I know who’s where by recognizing their voices in yawns, sneezes, coughs, and so on, but I can never tell who’s whistling.