This male wildebeest dashes up to this herd of females, oblivious to the fact that other wildebeest males consider him about as welcome as a plague of locusts. See? You can't just move in on another guy's turf without getting, you know, clipped. But of course, our hero doesn't get the message, and doesn't stop trying to conjugate the verb. He humps, they dump. (Of) Course, he leaps to his feet, as if to say "Huh, yeah, I meant to do that. No problem. It's under control. I'm cool." "Yeah, right. "

 

The male springbok antelope, however, has it all worked out. His mating strategy is to gently touch flanks of the female as a way of asking if she wants to do what comes naturally. If we could put words to his actions:

 

"Ok, are you ready? Ah em, no? Ok, how about now? That's been five seconds. Ok, um, how about now? Now? Is now OK? Ok, how about now? Ok, I'm gonna take that for a yes. That, well,ok... Oops. Huh hem, wait a minute, it's ... Ok, standing still can also be a signal, so uh... Yeah, you know, I'd better go back to that leg thing."

 

 In case you wonder just how primal the lust for the female really is, consider these two male lions. Pals, hunting partners. You know, they're classic best buds, nothing can come between them. That is until this Venus of the veldt. This leonine, a bit of feminine flush struts her stuff before the two of them. And then...

 

Years of brotherly comradery torn asunder in seconds, slaughtered by Cupid's bow. The loser slinks away to lick his wounds. He's lost the girl and his best friend. Eh, but wait a minute. Haho, another female! No, she is just here to toss another shovelful of dirt on the coffin. Some days, you just can't win for losing.