This article from The Guardian popped up in my curated Google news feed: Week in wildlife in pictures: a rebellious kingfisher, golfing bobcats and a sex-mad marsupial
The caption for the sex-mad marsupial read:
A brush-tailed phascogale is cared for in Victoria, Australia. Also known as a tuan, the little mammal is in the running for the hotly contested marsupial of the year accolade. Experts believe it is in with a chance, thanks to the males’ remarkable mating habits. “Not a lot of people realise this is a species where the males literally mate themselves to death,” said Rachel Lowry, head of Bush Heritage Australia. “Once they start to discover the joys of copulation, they just keep mating. They forget to eat and then they drain their energy and they die”
The last part of the caption grabbed my attention and I was transported back more than 55 years. When I discovered the “joys of copulation”, if I could have, I would have easily followed this marsupial to the grave. I am so proud of myself. I actually found a turn of phrase that was not the crude one that kept popping into my mind.
Fortunately (unfortunately?) for me, as teenagers, it was frequently difficult to find the privacy we needed.
Now that I am a few years older, I imagine that shortly I will be worried about this activity sending me to my grave by a different route. The ticker is “okay” right now, but who knows how it will be in a few years.
Señora just reminded me that moderation is the key for most things.