We had a little issue with a certain ass today. Our resident donkey, Stormy, decided to display a text book case of “Little Man Syndrome”. You know the type:
We’ve all known this type of character at one point or another in our lives. Anyone who deals with miniature horses or donkeys knows that this personality trait runs amok with these tiny beasts.
Hubs left to go do chores and a few minutes later gave me a call on his cell. “The colt is in with the minis and he is getting the snot beat out of him”. Ohhhh nooooo!!! The little fella in question is this little goomer:
This little fellow lives in a babyproof (or so I thought) pen of tall mesh fencing with pipe reinforcing the top and bottom. I am not sure how the little fellow managed to get himself on the wrong side of the fence, but it was clear it was a bad situation.
Now if you are at all familiar with equines you know that if there is a big scrap going on there is no way you are going to break it up without becoming a speed bump. A human sized smear. They are powerful, fast and determined. Even the little fellas can wreak havoc. I had to put on my thinking cap (its practically brand new, rarely gets used) and brainstorm how to break up the scuffle without getting hurt.
And then it dawned on me.
The baby needs his mama.
I advised Hubs to open the gate between the two pens and let the mama in. Sure enough, she swooped in like a hurricane of motherly love. Kicked some ass (literally), told Junior to get back in his pen where he belonged. Everyone was back where they belonged and Hubs shut the gate. Problem solved.
This got me thinking about Motherhood in general. What is the most dangerous animal in the world? You may be under the assumption that a big strong male is who you need to keep your eye out for. Hell no. A female with young. Get between a mama and her tykes and you can kiss your ass (and not the donkey kind this time) goodbye folks, its game over. What is the most dangerous animal on the farm? The boar? The bull? I would watch my back around a sow with a new litter or a cow with a fresh calf over a studly-be-wonder any day. A sow on your heels will sound like a dragon from the depths of hell is after you. I hope you brought fresh undergarments. We can always tell when a sow has farrowed because the first sign is she will start to roar when you are walking around feeding the other pigs. Pigs are awesome. Modern day dragons.
Why is that? Why are females so hard wired to risk life and limb to protect their brood? Why aren’t males the same way? Genetics, my friend. The name of the game is preservation of your genes. For a male to be successful in this endevour he must “sow his wild oats” far and wide. The best odds of having his genes continuing on is to maximize his number of offspring in the world. This is why males will show their aggression when it comes to breeding. Seeking out maximum number of successful matings is what is going to get him in the hall of fame for passing on his genetics to the next generation.
For the female, however, producing babies is time consuming and takes a lot of energy. She need to keep her kids alive and well to see them successfully on their way to maturity so they can reproduce. Raising successful offspring is how she can ensure she passes on her genes. Through a combination of hormones and instinct she uses her protective maternal instincts to ensure your kids are successful in the bid of “survival of the fittest”. The result? Some very aggressive mamas out there.
This got me thinking about humans. Do we suffer from this too? Is the hockey mom just a jacked up human version of the mama bear? Is it instinctual and hormonal that we want our children to be successful in life? I hate to admit it but I have felt blind rage when my kids have been hurt, teased or bullied which I can only attribute to this fierce maternal need to protect. Do these overprotective moms of today become the mother-in-laws from hell who still need to micromanage their grown sons? What do you think? Do you see evidence of this animalistic behaviour among people?