Watching Buxton, I have a feeling that he's starting to figure it out. He's gone from whiffing and flailing to hitting lazy fly balls. At some point he will start to hit them flatter, and then it's off to the races.
Hat tip, Geoffrey Chaucer. Miller's Tale. There was a line somewhere in there like, "Twas spring, unt all die animels vas ferting," some weird middle english fart joke reference to mating season.