When faced with unusually dry conditions, takmar are capable of entering a period of dormancy called aestivation.

Under such environmental conditions, the affected takma, if no shelter is available, may feel an urge to attempt to remove most of its body from contact with the outdoor air. Prehistoric takmar fulfilled this need by burrowing into the ground and covering themselves - leaving only the end of their muzzle exposed - but in modern times, travelers in arid regions may carry a roll of water-resistant material to spread out over themselves. Once covered, their metabolism will slow to reduce the rate of breathing and the water that would be lost with it, and the nostrils will seal as when swimming and diving, opening only when required to take a breath. While aestivating, the takma is essentially asleep, and cannot respond to stimuli except by leaving that state; the process of entering or leaving dormancy takes ten to fifteen minutes.

The instinct for aestivation is triggered by low humidity and lack of water to drink. While an adaptive trait for hot, dry environments, takmar in environments that are cold and dry, such as some high-altitude environments, may also feel the same urge. In such a case, proceeding with aestivation can prove detrimental or even fatal, since the lower body temperature a takma experiences in this state makes hypothermia far more likely.

The takma reproductive strategy is based around the species' polyandrous tendencies and the ability of females to select the sperm of particular males to conceive children. One effect of this strategy is to minimize the likelihood of a male knowing whether a given child is biologically his own and thereby prevent favoritism in providing for it.

Whether or not particular takmar are consciously aware of this effect, it has strongly impacted the psychology of the species. Sperm choice is at least partly a conscious process among females and they are therefore aware of which male or males could have sired children in a particular clutch of eggs, but the idea of the males in question discovering this information is usually deeply uncomfortable. As a result, the vast majority of takma cultures have some form of taboo or restrictions regarding biological paternity. Some merely fail to disclose it; many of them either fail to discuss or even deny the very concept of biological paternity at all, since the most complete way of avoiding the answer is to ensure that the question is never asked.

It is partly for this reason that, in most societies, males may have a very good idea of how to have sex but only very muddled ideas about what it's for, connecting it with children only loosely or not at all. In cultures where there is no officially sanctioned, or at least widely believed, explanation for reproduction, its place is usually taken by speculation from among the males themselves.

As with any taboo, there would be no reason for it to exist if there were not those who would break it. There are some pairings in which the shared secret of the male's paternity is found to be incredibly kinky.

An apparent relic of a much earlier stage of evolution, the majority of takmar have an instinctive and intense fear of deep water, particularly the sea.

Takmar are good swimmers and divers, and on the whole have no concern when they can see the bottom of a body of water or have the impression that it is only just out of sight. If they are unable to perceive or guess at the bottom, however, they will feel an unreasoning terror of the depths, tinged with a feeling that some unspecified threat awaits them there. (A similar effect can be induced by very cloudy or murky water). As a result, while few takmar have any issues being in or on the water near seashores, rivers, small lakes, or similar, they frequently experience psychological difficulty in crossing oceans or going out into the middle of large lakes or inland seas.

Cultural and religious attempts to explain thalassophobia are often expressed in terms of sea monsters, dark, aquatic gods, and abyssal hells. The Abethine city-states, by contrast, have developed a cultural toolkit for dealing with thalassophobia, a necessity for their relatively maritime-focused existence.