for sex and life

<p>Bruised and battered, the migrants arrive at their final destination. With backs once straight but now humped and distorted, they crash through thunderous waterfalls and rock-encrusted rapids. On empty bellies they dodge the crushing jaws and spear-like claws of giant famished bears, seeking to replenish their own nutrients lost in winter's slumber. Yet, despite crossing hundreds and sometimes thousands of miles, our determined travelers never rest.</p><p>Even at journey's end, they rally their last bolts of energy for one final spectacular ritual of genetically programmed mating. They've been here before, born en masse and now about to die en masse. A female, typical of her kind, nestles her bottom into the gravel, tossing up dirt and sand in a whirl that attracts weary but willing suitors.</p><p>The chosen male touches her, nosing about her flanks, quivering along her sides. With bellies touching and mouths gaping, they nestle deeper into the ground. Undulating rhythmically, she pours out thousands of perfectly spherical bubbles, and he in turn adorns them with a milky-white cloud. Then, using her powerful lower body to shovel sand and gravel, she creates an incubator for this, the next generation. But the couple is not done yet. Moving to new locales, they repeat this ritual again and again, until they slowly succumb to their own exhaustion.</p><p>These are not kinky religious zealots practicing mass suicide, sacrificing their lives with a sip of poisoned Kool-Aid or igniting themselves in a blaze of extreme devotion. These are not humans, and they are not aliens.</p><p>These beasts are salmon — performing a ritual of death amid a miracle of survival---for what, for sex and life!</p>