Call of the Wild

“It’s called orgling.”

“I beg your pardon?” I replied innocently. I was touring an alpaca farm and my naïve mind still refused to believe that the owner of this farm was actually going to make me watch the alpacas breed. I still believed she was just feeding me background information. You know, the alpaca facts.

“Orgling. It’s the sound the males make when they are mating with the females. You’ll hear it here in just a few minutes.” I could only hope that meant that we were going to be in the sitting room, sipping tea and we would hear the yodeling or orgling or whatever the hell it was called through the walls.

“Oh…” I replied, looking for words, “That’s nice.”

I kicked at a stone that was caught on a piece of hay. “So, do the females like the orgling or do they fight the males off?” I didn’t truly care, but I was trying to feign interest in a desperate attempt to keep the owner talking and distracted as to avoid having to watch the alpaca love-fest. I do teach about Understanding Women, however, that boundary squarely stops at humans…or at least I thought it did.

“Oh no! When the females ovulate they’re like cheap whores. They can’t get it fast enough!”

That’s it. I had officially heard too much.

Not two minutes after that, I had also officially seen more than I had ever seen on any episode of Wild Kingdom.

I did not enjoy the male alpaca’s orgling. It sounded like someone trying to yodel with their lips shut. I’ll take, “Hey baby, can I buy you a drink?” any day over an orgle. Then again, I’m not an alpaca. But, she was right about those ladies. They couldn’t drop it to the floor, bend over and assume the position fast enough. Bullets have left guns slower.

After I had gotten over my shock of witnessing alpaca sex (my fun voyeuristic tendencies apparently do not apply to livestock) I starting to think of those female alpacas and their exceedingly strong “Bring it on” attitudes when it comes to dudes (well, alpaca dudes anyway).


Part of me is shy to admit it (yes, believe it or not, there is a shy bone in my body. It’s just very, very, very tiny…), but the same “Bring it on” attitude towards sex can be very true of women. Men just get most of the credit for being hypersexual. Lucky bastards. However, women can often become quite…well…randy, horny, passionate and downright demanding of sex. Our desire for a hunk-a-hunk of burning love takes over—or at least it does on good days—and we, like the alpaca honeys, want sex…

Or is there something else that we want in addition to the sex…

Without a doubt, the physical sensation of sex is so downright delicious that I may have to go and have some before I finish writing this…and yet, it never seems to be the physical sensation of sex that truly satiates me. It’s all of the rest of it. It’s the pillow talk. It’s the companionship. It’s being adored, and desired, and touched, and looked at. It’s the gratitude that is shared between us for an experience of primal delight. It seems like I only want my hot, wild sex when it’s served with a side of warm, affectionate closeness.

I have no problem saying that sex is one of my favorite activities to indulge my wild nature. I also have no problem freely admitting that my pleasure in sex goes far beyond having my wild nature go and play with someone else’s wild nature. In essence, sex, is not all about the sex. For me, the call of the wild happens when tapping into that depth—that depth of admiring the beauty and passion in another, of feeling it within myself, and of the delicate intimacy that is created between the two of us when such experiences of wild abandon gently open the door to Love…