Least Tern: Love, Actually... Is a Sardine
The male Least Tern doesn’t sing or dance or bring flowers. He brings fish. Sardine-sized, silver-flashing, recently panicked fish. It’s his version of chocolates and a heartfelt note, and apparently, it works.
I learned early in life that flowers were the gold standard. Birthdays, apologies, romantic hail-Marys—flowers had range. But sardines? Not once did anyone suggest I win someone over with oily bait.
Turns out I’ve been doing it wrong. The terns know better.
I watched this male land beside his intended and present his offering like a nervous teenager with a sweaty bouquet. She looked. She considered. And then she took it.
No questions. No awkward small talk. Just fish equals love.
It’s simple, efficient, and possibly the most honest relationship model I’ve seen in years.
Who knew?
(Answer: Terns.)
He wooed with a fish, not a flower or fern
That’s romance, at least to a Least Tern.
Least Tern: Love, Actually... Is a Sardine
The male Least Tern doesn’t sing or dance or bring flowers. He brings fish. Sardine-sized, silver-flashing, recently panicked fish. It’s his version of chocolates and a heartfelt note, and apparently, it works.
I learned early in life that flowers were the gold standard. Birthdays, apologies, romantic hail-Marys—flowers had range. But sardines? Not once did anyone suggest I win someone over with oily bait.
Turns out I’ve been doing it wrong. The terns know better.
I watched this male land beside his intended and present his offering like a nervous teenager with a sweaty bouquet. She looked. She considered. And then she took it.
No questions. No awkward small talk. Just fish equals love.
It’s simple, efficient, and possibly the most honest relationship model I’ve seen in years.
Who knew?
(Answer: Terns.)
He wooed with a fish, not a flower or fern
That’s romance, at least to a Least Tern.