Sad beasts of the Sahara

I always have to begin this sort of thing with the knowledge that, no, I can’t do better. Not at all. That being said, those who can’t, mock. So on we go. Put on your pith helmet, we’re going big-game sketching.

Best watering hole ever. It just needs Marlin Perkins rising out of the depths to describe in loving, yet bland, detail every element of this very complex element. I do think we have every major African poster-child species. Points for including an ostrich, they don’t get a lot of love these days.

Surprised and perhaps a little bit intimidated by the light shining forth from the zebra’s eyes, the ibex looks away. He thinks, “it’s too early for miracles. Please, wear some sunglasses or something, or wait until after lunch.”

The zebra, however, will continue to stare until the ibex’s head explodes. Its work here is done.

It’s astonishingly easy to draw Minimalist Hippo, because there isn’t a lot going on with hippos, detail-wise. They kind of started out looking like a 2nd grade ceramics project, and stayed there. I’m amazed that nature has enough clay to keep the species alive.

“No, please don’t. Not here. Your parents might see, they wouldn’t understand our love.”

That’s some weird distortion of space, there. If I’d cropped the picture at all, it would have looked like a strange elephant-headed emu. Or, “emuphant.” So, attention physicists: two objects can occupy the same space at the same time, if they’re an emu and an elephant. And they’re in love.

Dispassionately, the zombie lions watch the scene unfold. They don’t particularly care about anything. Oh, sure, they’d like it if they could have their legs back, life was cruel to amputate them at the knees, but zombie lions are nothing if not patient. Eventually some sort of ungulate will wander over and lay down in front of them, and then, oh, they will feed.

Goodwill on 2222 and Lamar, Austin