I think because the only time I can recall seeing an ostrich in anything resembling a native environment was on a farm in Aruba where they were being raised for meat, the sight of one crossing my field of vision, close to a family of Thomson’s gazelle and assorted wildebeest, seemed as odd as if I’d seen one strutting down the West Side Highway. Even more shocking was the bright pink color of this particular gentleman’s legs and neck. Nothing to be alarmed about, however; I learned that a male in heat turns pink to stand out against the green of the plains, allowing potential partners to easily spot him, like a one-man red light district. Once a female signals even passing interest, Pinky will begin an elaborate courtship dance in an effort to woo a mate. And in a relationship story all too common, once he’s had his way with her he’ll go back to being his boring old black and white self.