GULF FRITILLARY

I'm not in a good mood. It's freezing cold, and I've had to cope with a pointless strike on the London Underground today. Which meant that everybody else in London was in a bad mood, too. We all spiralled down together into an ever-deepening pit of moodiness. 

The tube union leader is a gentleman (and I use the term loosely) named Bob Crow. Normally I'd make some light hearted quip at this point about a 'murder' of crows being an appropriate collective noun, but I'm in too bad a mood to even attempt ironic and tasteless humour. 

So, to cheer myself up, here's one of my favourite butterflies- the Gulf Fritillary. It's pretty, isn't it?  I can feel my mood lightening already. 

Actually, no I can't. But it is pretty.

Hmmph.

IMPALA AT DAWN

It's easy to take the humble impala for granted. The first day that you visit southern Africa, you ooh and ahh over them. The second day, you're kind of 'uh-huh, there's another herd of impala'. Third day, it's 'out of the way, impala scum, you're blocking the route to the elephant.'

Shame on us all. Impala are beautiful little animals, and it shouldn't matter that they're as numerous as Starbucks in a city centre.

They're called the McDonalds of the plains in reference to the black arches on their rumps, and the fact that they provide a constant source of fast food for just about every large carnivore in their distribution range. In fact, they're the key to survival for all those sexy, photogenic predators that we all long to see so much.

And there are few things as heartwarming as looking into the huge, limpid eyes of an impala. They're the very epitome of the gentle antelope.

They are one of the most acrobatic denizens of the plains, able to make huge leaps of up to 30 feet when escaping yet another hungry cat. But they bear all the danger and stress with a kind of docile stoicism.

So if you're lucky enough to go on safari, don't take the impala for granted. Take the time to appreciate its beauty and grace. Stick around to observe its behaviour and habits. You'll find it's well worth it.

And importantly, there's always the chance that you might see it getting snacked on by something really cool.

WHAT ATTENBOROUGH WON'T SHOW YOU

It's true. Today, I can exclusively reveal that the penguins that Sir David shows us in the antarctic are hand picked penguin models, straight out of penguin casting. Each penguin is carefully groomed and made up, has its feathers cut and blow-dried, and is placed in the ideal position in the colony, ready for the blue-shirted, silver-tongued, whispering wonder to do his breathless voiceover in a picture perfect setting. 

That's why the BBC penguins all look identical. You won't see any chav, ugly penguins- they aren't allowed near the set. 

Like this poor Adelie, with a face that only a penguin mother could love. Never mind Attenborough, this specimen, who wished to be identified as 'Psycho' (not his real name), wouldn't even make the grade in a Nigel Marven production. 

And I, for one, think it's sad. Perhaps it's time for the lads from BBC Bristol to embrace the ugly penguins, in all their bug eyed glory.

Otherwise penguins like poor Psycho here are going to find themselves with a complex. 

And that would be taking the pingu.

BIG SHOUT GOING OUT TO THE DUNG BEETLE...

Let's hear it for the dung beetle. One of the smaller, yet most important, animals in the world.

The ancient Egyptians knew this- that's why they didn't call them dung beetles, but sacred scarabs. Much better.

Without dung beetles, the world would be a very different place. In fact, it would, in a very real sense, be a load of crap.

Dung beetles, like vultures, are nature's clean up crew. They feed on the excrement of herbivores and break it down, improving nutrient recycling and protecting livestock and wild animals from aggressive pests such as flies which would normally find a habitat on a plethora of poo.

Without dung beetles, the world would be a much smellier place.

They roll their ball of dung away from its origin (because when you've got hold of a really good poo pellet, you just KNOW some other ba*tard's going to try and steal it...) and then bury it, laying their eggs inside so that the larvae have a tasty treat to consume upon hatching..

And they're strong. One species, Onthophagus taurus is particularly so. I'm reliably informed by Wiki that in human terms it can push and pull the equivalent of six fully loaded double decker buses.

That's a good weight of faeces, even by a curry addict's standards. Certainly enough for a batch of larvae.

Most dung beetles don't eat or drink anything else at all during their lifetime- sadly for them, the dung contains all the nutrients and water that they need.

So let's pause for a moment to thank the dung beetle, and also to offer it our sincere condolences. Because to a dung beetle, the phrase 'eat shit and die' isn't a good-humoured insult - it's all there is to life.

And you thought you had problems.

ORYX

For me, the Oryx (Gemsbok) is the animal that defines Namibia. To cope with the incredible heat, the Oryx has developed a cunning cooling system. There's very little water to drink, so sweating is a bad thing. To reduce the need to sweat, Oryx pant heavily, which causes air to flow over the carotid rete - a network of blood vessels around the nose. The nose is also coloured white to reflect the heat. The blood running through the carotid rete is cooled by the air and from there the cooler blood is directed to the brain, keeping it at a reasonable temperature. Simultaneously, the body temperature is allowed to rise. So the Oryx doesn't need to perspire and so lose valuable water. Clever, eh?