Foreword
Many people can write appealingly and with knowledge about wild animals in an
impersonal kind of way, but very few have experienced and can convey the intimate feeling
and compassion which Sue Hart shows. To her any animal, irrespective of size or value in
human terms, is a living being, deserving the same care and treatment as does the human
species.
Always, I shall remember with gratitude the never-failing response of Sue Hart and Toni
Harthoorn to my calls for help to treat my sick and injured lions, often at considerable
inconvenience to themselves, requiring long hours of driving over rough roads and bush
tracks to remote places. And at the end, as happened on three occasions, performing
intricate operations on full-grown lions, lasting several hours, in the field and under
the most primitive conditions.
Back in the Wild is most fortunate in having the co-operation of Leigh Voigt,
whose beautiful drawings so perfectly support the text.
May Sue Hart long continue to fight for the most noble and worthy of causes, which is
vital for the quality of life on our planet.
George Adamson
'Camp of the Lions' Kora, May 1976
The book contains a series of short essays, accompanied by pen and ink
drawings, on various African wildlife topics (not just cheetahs).
Cheetah in Jeopardy
Eons ago the cheetah, often called the greyhound of the cats, diverged from its feline
relatives by acquiring adaptations solely for its coursing method of hunting. Much of the
specific equipment of the stealth-hunting wild cat was lost in the process, such as
retractile claws and powerful jaws.
By the time the modern spotted sphinx emerged, it had gained unique status as the
fleetest of world predators, a rank which, to date, has never been challenged though it
could yet be, should prevailing conditions call for an even faster, more light- footed
hunter of the plains.
But is this likely to happen? Will there ever be sufficient space for such a creature?
It is improbable because the vast open plains grow yearly less verdant and plentiful.
Already we are fighting for the survival of this superbly- structured, enigmatic cat
that can run at over 100 km per hour, kill instantly, feed faster than any other hunter
(to protect itself from predators) then merge back into its special world, the dull pale
yellow body blending perfectly with the natural dry grass- cover it needs for its very
existence.
Take a look at it again when you can, even in a book if you cannot go out and find one.
. . and they are hard to find. Perhaps only 2,000 remain in the whole of Africa -
mostly in the Kalahari National Park, the Kruger National Park, game farms, small
sanctuaries, zoos.
Recently, alone in my car, I had the luck to see a wild cheetah in the early morning. I
counted myself very fortunate as I watched the supple body, gentle eyes, the passionate
tear-streak lines to the mouth, the powerful long tail with its spectacular banded end.
The cheetah gazed at me,, her swelling teats evidence of her sex. We looked each other
in the eye, yet even then her tail moved slowly, from side to side, as if my presence
provoked uncertainty, as though she felt impatience at my intrusion.
I looked at the cheetah's coat of solid spots (someone once counted 2,000 on one adult)
and wondered at her hollow flanks, her hungry look and her air of patient waiting. Were
her cubs alive, and if so, had she hidden them in some thick scrub out of danger's reach?
Was she planning a hunt, was she resting between sprints, was she mourning the loss of her
young?
Sitting dog-fashion on the slope of an old ant-heap, the cheetah had become alert, her
small ears attuned to receive the slightest vibration, her sensitive nostrils alive to
every scent.
Just ahead a dung beetle was engaged in a single-handed house-moving operation, rolling
its castle towards the cheetah look-out. A limpid-eyed bush duiker suddenly appeared out
of nowhere, took in the situation at a glance and dived back into the thicket from whence
it had come, obviously unnerved by the cheetah's fixed stare in its direction.
I turned my head away to gain a better view of the flashing cinnamon wings of a
Burchell's coucal. When I looked back, the elegant cat had gone, without even a rustle, or
the swaying of grass stems.
There was emptiness round the ant-heap now; just brown earth where, minutes before, the
lithe body had lit up the clearing with a contained vitality and vibrant beauty that only
the cheetah, of all the streamlined hunters of the wilderness, knows how to project.
Thank heaven for rescue ventures, such as The Endangered Wildlife Trust, newly set up
within Pretoria University's Department of Wildlife Management, which is barely three
years old. It promotes the greatly-needed study of the cheetah's status.
The spotted cat remains secretive, baffling and vulnerable to change. All over Africa
its numbers are dwindling at a most alarming rate and still only a fraction of what needs
to be done to ensure its future is being achieved. And while this state of emergency
endures, poaching and hunting continue for no reason but the value of the skin, which is
soft and ornate.
'Is it too late for the cheetah?' asks Clive Walker, President of The Endangered
Wildlife Trust, as he appeals for funds, this time through artist Paul Bosman's
contribution of a superb painting and prints of the Cape hunting dog on the move, the
latter being another species of wild animal threatened with extinction.
