There is not much humping and bumping in Acanthopholis sex. It's a careful affair so thorns and spines don't puncture bellies and pits or tear the tenders. Even their flirting is understated. After a bit of silent throat puffing, the males are chosen and the relationship consummated unceremoniously. No grunts or moans or purrs or even raised dust. And once the seed has been planted, the gardener leaves, oblivious to the whole purpose of the affair. For him it was just strutting and rutting. For her it is more than that, but not much more, just a part of a process, as meaningless as urinating in a river. Acanthopholis is not a romantic species.