Chameleons: Lions of the Ground

Chameleons: Meaning lions of the ground. Aren't regular lions of the ground? Whatever. They are especially adapted for killing large insects. Their claws are made to grasp tree branches, their skin can change to fit it's surroundings, their eyes move independently, and their tongues can also grasp large insect heads, and other appendages, after exploding from their mouths. They aim for the heads so that the insects defenses will be neutralized.

There are also desert chameleons. Now their claws aren't grasping branches, but are spread out, so that they move easier across the sand. And their skin isn't blending into the surroundings, but is acting as a thermal control. Half of her is dark, and half white to absorb the suns rays and keep them in, respectively.

An animals main purpose is to reproduce to spread it's genes. Chameleons are no different. A female wanders the desert looking for a mate. She eats desert beetles - not to be confused with dessert beetles - by waiting in the shade of sparse vegetation, and catching one with her tongue. There aren't many desert chameleons, but she will eventually find a mate. When she does, the male will forcefully have his with her because he's been searching forever, and he knows another one won't come along soon, if ever. He uses his teeth for grabbing her, and his claws to pin her down, and preforms the acrobatics to get himself in there: The Double Backed Beast.

You would think that since there are so few desert chameleons, and they are searching for each other constantly, and that is arguably their purpose - to reproduce - then once the male and female see each other, relations would be more cordial and less barbaric.

But the female, despite her constant searching, upon seeing the male, will probably think: "I'm not in the mood right now." Or maybe she will think: "I don't like the cut of his jib."

And he will think: "Now is not the time for judging my jib, I've almost died of thirst and starvation looking for you, I will not see another female ever again probably, and you will not see a male. My jib is the only one here."

And she will think: "I'm not in the mood. Your jib is irregular. I was looking for a male with a better jib."

And he will think: "My jib isn't important! We need to make business. That's our only goal!"

But his pleas will fall on deaf ears. By then she will have moved on with her head raised, and her mouth perpetually turned down. The next male she finds, if she finds one, will have an alright jib, but imperfect gumption.

It's the desert, lady. Beggars can't be choosers.