The whinging gander was frustrated. He nagged his mate for access, but she was having none of it: “It is not even spring yet, and I am just not in the mood.”
“Oh come on, you know you are ready.”
During five minutes of harassment, she talked back to him only once.
Normally she just looked away.
He chased her across the beach.
And through the water. One could imagine her muttering, “Do other species have to put up with this?” One could also imagine him muttering, “Do other species have to put up with this?”
Oh well, he just has to wait another month.