The Circle of Life
Warning: Lots of cute cuddly pictures plus a couple of gruesome ones...
Previous Chapter 'A Break from the Crossings' here.
Our frugal lunch finished (chapati wraps, white wine, basic rations) followed by possibly a small siesta. Someone needed to stay awake to check on intruders. Luckily I slept through my turn.
We were now well away from home base (other DIY stores are available) having spent much fruitless time looking for rhinos and caracal. No luck with either but we were now far from the madding crowd. The only primates around here were a few baboons and us.
The behaviour of baboons is somewhat questionable. (As are ours.)
As are their behinds. (No further comment required.)
Our search had produced nowt, until, only an hour or so before sundown, as we were thinking of turning back towards home, we stumbled upon this incredible sight. OK, not a great photo, but I include it because it gives an idea of the number of beasts hanging around near these trees.
This was not so much a pride, more of a super-pride. There were at least twenty seven of them!
And that did not include an alpha male. Presumably he was off on a bonking break.
Although, with the number of young cubs whizzing around, he may just have gone off to his man-cave for a bit of peace and quiet.
That's what too much fornicating gets you. Or so I'm told.
These guys were play fighting, squabbling, running around,
laying traps
scratching the furniture
snuggling
licking
rolling
playing with sticks
Listening to your dad as he tells you "You must take your place in the circle of life".
Asking "What's Dad up to?"
I want you to remember this picture. A group of cuddly cats. But ask yourself; what does your cat get up to when it goes out in the evening?"
We were about to find out.
As Mufasa said "A king’s time as ruler rises and falls like the sun".
It was after 5pm. An hour or so of daylight was left. We definitely needed to think about getting back. We were there with one other jeep. We were a long way from home and, it turned out, they were lost.
As the evening was drawing in, the behaviour of these loveable cats began to change. Well, it was nearly dinner time. And what do cats eat for dinner?
There began a frisance of tension in the air tonight.
The really young kittens had a ready supply of food. But the older ones needed more.
The three oldest lionesses licked their beloved goodnight, then went off to shop for dinner.
Dusk was setting in. We were late. But we stayed as we felt that something was about to happen.
Something was about to happen...
The three older lionesses began to walk in the same direction.
They had seen some passing wildebeest. Not too tricky in itself, there was a bloody long line of them.
One of the three peeled of to the right to circle around to the other side of these beasts. Two slowly walked towards them, crouching low, stopping frequently, watching intently.
Then one of them, nicknamed 'the Killing Machine' took control and leapt full tilt towards the line of wildebeest. She ran. And she ran. At a speed I had never thought possible.
She zeroed in on one of the wildebeest.
She leapt.
It fell.
She went straight for its throat, not to rip it out but, instead, to gently hug it as its life slowly ebbed away.
And she held it tightly in its jaws.
And she held on.
And she held on.
For twenty minutes she held on, until her prey took no more breaths.
Then she held on longer.
There are worse ways to die.
Once absolutely sure that her prey was not pulling a fast one, she wandered off to find the others, to allow the young their dinner.
She called the other adults to bring their young, but did not allow the adults to feed, only her and all the young.
Remember the cuddly group photo from before? This is the same lot, playing, licking, cuddling.
Over a dead corpse.
What an absolutely stunning experience. So few of us are privileged enough to have seen a kill such as this. I asked Ian, my friend and guide of many years "That was incredible, how many times have you seen that happen?"
"This is the third time in my life" he responded.
Gulp.
We were now VERY late. We had to get back, but had two major problems. Firstly, it was dark. OK, you think, put on the headlights. Uh uh. Not allowed. If the rangers see you, well, let's not go there. We needed to drive fast but without lights. Secondly, we needed to help the other jeep who had no idea where he was. We had to guide him to the airstrip from where he could get help.
This was going to be interesting.
There was now no light at all. The roads were, well, not roads. They were tracks full of potholes for the unwary but, thankfully, no crocs. Other animals? Yes.
Annick tried to take a photo of our hell-ride...
Surprisingly little to see is there?
How Ian did it, I cannot say. The speed that he drove required holding on very tight (seat belts would have been a good idea). Ian must have known this track better than the back of his hand. That or his god was better than mine. The following jeep had the advantage of tracking the smell of our fear...
Needless to say, we arrived back without serious injury and minimal death. We had to skip our bucket showers and head straight in to dinner, then wander back to our tents still in a state of multifactorial shock.
But the night was not over...
So far I have spoken little of the camp itself and the sleeping arrangements. Many safaris consist of a morning and an evening drive, with something like five hours in-between to twiddle your appendages.
This is not our idea of fun. (Although it does depend on which appendages are involved.) Why save up your entire bloody life to spend hours reading books that you could have just as well read at home? This is one reason why we love Ian and his idea of a real safari in the Wild.
Therefore we didn't really know a lot about the camp. It was always dark. It had a central tent to meet and eat, it has individual tents spread widely apart. When it was dark, if you wanted to go out of your tent you needed to call someone to aid you incase you needed someone who could stab lions in their eyes with his spear.
So we ate, at a table with just us and Ian. No longer are there tables for all the guests to chatter. This is due to covid. It is probably a good thing because I have an unnerving tendency to get into drunken arguments with your average safari bigot. The Brits are the worst...
Thus our usual evening routine was to head back to our tent after our (always great) meal and several glasses of wine, whisky, beer, oh stop there...
I would then backup my daily photos onto my laptop and play around with a few of them whilst Annick prepared herself for another amazing night with me. She does love her sleep...
During the night there are always lots of strange sounds, most are from myself, but the most irritating sound is a lion bonking every twenty minutes while I lie there and think "why does it take me thirty?"
This night, some of the noises were different.
"What was that?" whispered the wife as we heard a sound something like a child crying.
"Oh, only some kind of primate" I stated without having the faintest idea. I am a vet and I'm supposed to know this sort of thing.
As we settled down to sleep...
A woman's scream rent the dark night air.
Next Chapter Coming and Going
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