I feel terrible.
Poor little doomed pandas. On the one hand, the efforts to save the species are noble beyond belief, and on the other, some sad, cynical part of my brain says "When a species no longer wants to have sex, it's over." As painfully adorable as they are, as much as I would love to see pandakind lumbering free and monochromatic 'mongst the bamboo, I can't help but think that the giant panda has gotten itself into a hole from which there is no return. If it was merely habitat destruction by humans, that'd be one thing, and of course we are honorbound to fight to the last, but it's not. We're talking about a species that is fertile two days a year, where the males don't want to pursue sex and the females don't want to give it to 'em. And when you hit that point, even the most dedicated conservationist has to cringe a little. They have to show the males panda porn to get 'em in the mood. They have to send the pandas through sex ed to show 'em what to do. This is not a viable survival technique, people!
The babies are beyond adorable, though. You watch 'em and you find yourself making pained "awf! Orf!" noises because they're so cute it's like a weapon. Is this a panda I see before me!?
Sigh. Poor pandas. I admire the dedication of people who can work with 'em. I'd get so damn depressed, I wouldn't know what to do--trying to save a species that just needs a chance, safety, and undisturbed nookie time is one thing, but trying to save a species that seems to be afflicted with a permanent racial ennui would really get to me after about five minute on the job.