Near the watering hole the day grows long in the lingering heat of late summer. The annual migration of bright plumed tourists has since abated, at least until next year. The spring and early summer rut is over; viable (and available) members of both sexes have paired up to begin nesting. Perhaps setting the sometimes attainable goal of just getting through the holidays until the whole cycle begins anew with the coming of next spring. Such is the endless cycle of the watering hole. I spied a small herd of young males through the long stalks of the beer tap handles. Confident and brash they approached the watering hole, settling in cautiously between the solitary, wizened older male, and a couple secure in their holiday future. With a snort the older male made room, not quite enough, but just enough for appearances sake. Dominance had been established. The boisterous younger males with much commotion and fanfare made ready to drink. A flickering of black spot and stripe adorned animal prints alerted their attention to an equally small herd of females nestled protectively in a corner. Although this group of females was probably past the actual age of reproduction, they were not yet past the physical act of reproducing. The pheromones practically hung in the humid summer air, creating moistness in all manner of cracks and crevices. "Dude, check out the cougars," said a subordinate male, pointing out the obvious and proving a theory that they are always the ones to speak first. "What are you on?" said the male I'll call Beta 2. "I got six so far," said another male I'll call Beta 3. "Four for me," said Beta 2. "Remember guys, the games over at the end of August," replied the calmest, most assured of the bunch. This male, I assumed, was the alpha leader, confirming the fact by crowding the grumpy older male until with a decisive grumble he wandered off to another end of the bar. Displacement, I think they call it in the primate world, just another factor in the ever-changing role of dominance. Full of the eagerness of youth, one by one the young males ambled over to the females, puffing up their chests and exaggerating their gestures. As they got closer the volume in the protective corner would increase because as anyone knows "louder than you" is the universal symbol of "having more fun than you." And fun is always attractive. There is nothing so obvious to the outside observer as the game of trying to appear less obvious. That game played back and forth. The males approached, the females responded or retreated in the age-old dance of courtship. Display. Response. Display. Response. On and on it went. Eventually one of the females, I assumed that she was the alpha female, plumped up her tresses and decided that it was time to take it to the next level. As she stood her entire frame lengthened, longer and leaner as a result of the impossibly high heels on which she teetered. Stretching her arms over her head in a feigned yawn she accentuated the considerable assets that were already on display in her tight leopard-spotted tank top. In carefully calculated steps reminiscent of a top model's catwalk prance she strutted right by the group of young males. They stood transfixed by the sight of her acid washed $400 jeans (and a few other things) in motion. Staring directly at the alpha male, never breaking eye contact, she marched right by the predatory little group. Even the dumbest male would have gotten the hint to follow. "Where's she going?" said Beta 2. Well, perhaps not the dumbest. The alpha male set down his drink and followed her into the dining room, now emptied by the lateness of the hour. I didn't witness what happened in the privacy of that vacant room but when they returned she was fixing her lipstick and he was adjusting his trousers. "Dude, that rocked," said Beta 3. The alpha male just smiled. Sometime after, the males moved off, perhaps recognizing that the prey at this watering hole was either depleted or on high alert or, perhaps, just tiring of the game. A perfunctory goodbye to the females and they headed out. "I'm starving," said the alpha male on his way out the door. "I think I need a sandwich." The females sensing that the moment had passed gathered themselves and when it was safe also made their way to the door. "What's that for make for you," said one of the beta females fixing her mane in the back bar mirror. "Three this week," said the alpha female, again reapplying her lip liner. "And almost a dozen for summer". As I cleaned up the watering hole, carpet rolling away the spiky footprints, and generally returning the environment to it's pristine undisturbed natural state I had three thoughts. 1) In the late heat of summer the distinctions between prey and predator can easily become confused. 2) If it's ever a contest of sheer volume, females will always have the upper hand. 3) Cleaning up any type of residual mess in the dining room left by that couple is clearly the responsibility of the busboys.

Prey or Predator?