CHAPTER
1
To Be Free
The mighty engines of the Kenya Airways airbus roared as
the plane hurtled along the runway of Jomo Kenyatta Airport.
As the plane lifted skyward, I gave a sigh of relief. We, the
lions and I, were at last on our way to Botswana. To move
three young lions from one isolated game reserve in Kenya,
seven thousand kilometres south to another isolated game
reserve in Botswana, had proved not to be the simplest of
undertakings.
Apart from obtaining all the necessary permits, I had,
during my time in Nairobi, gained sponsorship to transport
the lions to Botswana. The EIsa Trust kindly covered the cost
of the Kora/Nairobi leg, and Air Botswana with Kenya Airways
(the latter appropriately known as 'The Pride of Africa')
sponsored the lions' and my journey to Botswana.
That morning, takeoff of flight KQ440 from Nairobi to
Harare to Gaborone was delayed due to the loading of three
unusual passengers - my lions in three sturdy wooden crates.
It seemed at one point that there was not enough room in the
hold for all three crates and I was on edge as I stood on the
tarmac. Amidst the confusion, a driver of a forklift truck
had accidentally bumped into one of the crates, Batian's,
nearly upturning it. Lions growled, people shouted
instructions, others laughed while discussing what was being
loaded into the luggage hold of the huge plane.
I darted around checking the lions, talking to officials
and then, towards the end of the loading, helplessly watched
the proceedings.
I was concerned about the positioning of one of the lion
crates - it was slightly tilted in the hold amongst the
numerous suitcases and boxes. A Kenya Airways official
approached me.
'Look, it's all OK,' he said kindly. Then, sterner, he
continued, 'You must board the plane now. Take-off cannot be
delayed any longer.
After one last look at the lions' crates in the hold, and
once again thanking various management personnel of the
airways, I ran up the steps and, once inside the plane, was
guided to my seat.
Just after take-off, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Across
the aisle from me was a dark-haired, middle-aged woman
wearing khaki safari clothing.
'What was the hold-up?' she enquired in an American,
Southern states accent.
'There were problems loading my lions on to the plane,' I
replied simply.
'Lions!' she exclaimed loudly, and some heads turned. 'Why
didn't someone tell us about this? You surely can't have
lions on a plane with people. It must be against
international regulations.'
The no-smoking light went off and I hastily lit a
cigarette and said in hushed tones, 'It's OK. They're not up
here with us, of course. They're in crates in the luggage
hold below.'
'What if they get out?' she huffed before turning away.
I had no answer for her - at least, none she'd like to
hear - so I sat back thinking, 'Well, this wouldn't have
happened in America, I suppose.'
En route to Gaborone, Botswana's capital, the plane was to
stop off at Harare in Zimbabwe. When, after landing, as the
plane came to a standstill, I asked the hostess if I could
inspect the lions before we took off again, she replied that
she thought it would be all right.
I went eagerly down the steps on to the tarmac and walked
under the belly of the plane to where handlers were pulling
Harare-bound luggage from the hold. I spoke to one of the
men, explaining that inside the three crates were lions and I
wished to check on them. He shook his head as if he hadn't
heard correctly.
'Shumba! Shumba!' ('lion' in Sindebele) I said to
emphasise what I meant.
The offloading stopped abruptly and I was invited to check
on the crates by myself to see if they were still secure. I
clambered into the hold and looked in turn into the three
crates. The young lions lay still, appearing calm or resigned
to their circumstances, and stared with unblinking amber
eyes. I called gently to them, thinking how glad I would be
when this journey was over. I turned back and assured the
handlers that the crates were intact and secure. I then
helped pass to the now smiling men the Harare-bound luggage
that had been stacked all around the lions' crates.
As the plane finally landed at Gaborone, I was pleased and
relieved to see friends and familiar faces waiting on the
tarmac to meet me, among them Julie Davidson, my girlfriend,
who had a broad, happy smile on her face. She was as relieved
as I that the lions and I had arrived. Over the past two and
a half weeks, I had phoned her frequently in Botswana to
explain the various problems, set-backs and changes of
departure dates that had cropped up. At one point, Julie
thought we would never make it to Botswana.
Before embarking upon the five-hundred-and-fifty-kilometre
truck journey to the Northeast Tuli bushlands, the lions
rested for a day and a half on a small private game reserve
outside Gaborone. They were housed in a large, fenced-off
enclosure. Batian, Furaha and Rafiki fed hungrily on the meat
provided by the game-reserve owner, Jimmy Kannemeyer, and
spent much of their time sprawled in the shade of some
bushes. They had survived the flight well. Now only the road
journey was to be completed and then it would be over - they
would once again be in the wilds.
The following evening, for the third and final time during
the journey, the lions were loaded into the crates. A gang of
Jimmy's men lifted the crates on to a heavy-duty truck. We
were to drive through the night to escape the heat of
Botswana's early summer.
As Julie and I were about to leave, it was discovered that
the truck's clutch was faulty. A mechanic friend of mine,
Alan Jordaan, tinkered with spanners and time ticked by as I
fidgeted. Finally, a head emerged from 'beneath the vehicle
and, with hands covered in grease, Alan said, 'Should be OK
now, Gareth.'
His words relieved me to an extent, but I still held fears
of breaking down in the night with the lions, miles from our
destination.
We set off northwards, first through the city. The driver
of the truck was named Sonny. We had been assured by his
employer at Van & Truck Hire that he was well rested and
would be able to drive through the night.
Surprisingly, considering our cargo, we passed through
veterinary and police roadblocks on the lonely road without
any problems. The news of the lions' arrival in Botswana had
been broadcast several times over the local radio station
that day. Whenever we were asked what we were transporting,
the police or veterinary personnel would inevitably reply to
our somewhat unusual answer with, 'Yes, we heard about it on
the radio news. Please pass on' - or something similar.
Three hours out of Gaborone, at about one o'clock, a
problem arose. I turned to look at Sonny in the gloom of the
truck's cab and, to my alarm, noticed his eyes closing
momentarily as he drove. I offered to drive and he gratefully
accepted. Julie was worried but said little. She knew how
exhausted I was, but she also knew how imperative it was to
complete the bulk of the journey before the sun rose.
Fortunately, the road was deserted and I gradually got
used to the heavy vehicle, its gears and brakes, while Sonny
in the cab and the three lions in the back slept. Julie,
sitting between Sonny and me, was now very alert, almost
constantly staring at me as I drove, making sure that I too
did not doze off. Later, Sonny and I took turns with the
driving but eventually, an hour before sunrise, we pulled to
one side so that everyone could sleep for a short while.
Julie and Sonny slept in the cab as I curled up next to the
crates in the open back of the vehicle after first checking
on the lions.
It was some sixteen hours after leaving Gaborone that we
finally arrived at a fenced camp in the North-east Tuli Block
- a simple camp which we were later to name Tawana (Little
Lion) Camp, and which our initial sponsor, Tuli Safari Lodge,
had built for the project.
The journey was over. With the aid of waiting spectators
and staff at the camp, I unloaded the three crates into a
fenced-off 'cub enclosure'. While a news crew filmed and
cameras clicked, I released Batian, Furaha and Rafiki from
their crates.
Furaha, with what I was to increasingly understand as her
independent character, stepped out, eyes glinting, without
any fear. In contrast, Rafiki emerged from her crate with.
caution - again a reflection of personality - her head low,
eyes watchful and in need of the reassurance which I gave to,
her. Poor Batian was still suffering from the effects of the
tranquillising drug and, I feel, motion sickness. As I
released him from his crate, he ventured out as gamely as
possible, but his co-ordination was awkward and my heart went
out to him. I spoke to the three in gentle, soothing tones
and encouraged them to drink from the water-bowls which I
offered to each of them.
A news crew, who had been brought to the camp by our
sponsor, captured these scenes and later, after I had given
the lions some meat, I was interviewed in front of the
camera. During and after the interview, as people asked
further questions, I felt much like Batian, my senses dulled
by long travelling and anxiety merged with relief.
The well-wishers, news people and staff departed an hour
or so later, leaving the lions, Julie and me alone in the
quietness of our new home. In the stillness I suddenly felt
such tremendous exhaustion that it was almost painful.
That night, I pulled a stretcher next to the lions'
enclosure so that I could be with them. The three lay
contentedly together, each one touching the other with either
paw, leg or tail, an arm's length from where I lay.
Tiredness, coupled with emotion, welled up in me. I could
have wept with relief that the long journey for the lions was
over and a new future lay ahead. It had been a strained time.
George's death and the nature of it were still very much in
my mind as was his ultimate wish for these three young lions
- his wish for them 'to be free'.
How does one rehabilitate lions? I had never undertaken
such work over an extended period before,. with my practical
experience being limited to what I had. learned from George
with the cubs at Kora. The procedures of the rehabilitation
of large carnivores have not been written up formally,*
primarily because few people have embarked upon such work. It
is a great pity that zoologists did not formulate George's
findings and understanding of the process of lion
rehabilitation into a single journal or paper. I had very few
rehabilitation guidelines to go by, apart from the very
general information I had gleaned from George and Joy's
books.
I therefore set myself three main rehabilitation
guidelines:
1. To familiarise the lions with their new surroundings,
thus giving them security and the opportunity of becoming
territorial.
2. To give the lions every opportunity to hunt prey,
presenting situations to them so that they could begin to
polish their inherent knowledge of hunting.
3. To nurture a mutual and deep trust between the lions
and myself but, at the same time, ensuring that the lions
became increasingly less~familiar with people. I hoped that
in tune they would view man in the same manner as wild lions
do.
During the first six months, I would wake before sunrise
and prepare to spend most of the day in the wilds with the
lions. The lions would begin cooing at me from their
enclosure as I quickly dressed, drank a cup of tea, collected
my rifle, water-bottle, notepad and camera. I would then walk
around to the gate in the cubs' enclosure and open it. All
three would bound out, excitedly moaning greetings, rubbing
their bodies against me, with Batian normally stopping to rub
his tawny head against mine.
The lions would be filled with a sense of fun and
excitement which was infectious. With three young lions - now
fifteen months old and each weighing sixty to seventy
kilograms - tripping over me and dashing around ambushing
each other, I would wave goodbye to Julie. Each morning, she
would watch the proceedings from behind the camp's
twelve-foot fence.
Julie would often not see me again for another eight or
even twelve hours until I returned in the evenings as tired,
thirsty and hungry as the three cubs. Early every morning the
lions and I would set out to hunt and explore, never knowing
what situations might arise. Would they make a small kill?
Would we encounter elephants? Would Batian again nearly step
on a venomous horned adder?
I did not teach the lions how to hunt, they were born with
this knowledge, but I would, when sighting antelope, lead
them in the direction of the herds. The lions quickly learned
that when I began crouching after spotting prey, something
lay ahead. They would then move cautiously until they too saw
what I was looking at.
As the weeks passed, it was generally they who indicated
to me, with head-low stares, that prey had been spotted and a
hunt was about to begin. On one occasion, however, I confess
that I had to take Batian's unattentive young head between my
hands and literally steer his eyes to where a nearby impala
stood feeding. Only then did he move into hunting mode.
The cubs' first two kills were examples of how I would
attempt to assist the lions with hunting and the reader might
be struck by the fact that I was seemingly cruel on such
occasions. What must be remembered is that in the wilds, a
lioness will deliberately catch a young antelope, for
example, and then present it to her cubs. They will then play
with it while it is still alive, like a cat with a mouse,
before eventually killing it. This happens for a reason, and
for the same reason I would, on occasions, present situations
to my cubs - so that they could learn from the experience. It
would be this acquired knowledge that they would have to
depend upon when having to fend for themselves in the future.
The lions' first kill was a genet cat, a spotted,
fox-faced little animal the size of a domestic cat which
belongs to the mongoose family. One evening, during those
early days, as I was returning with the lions to camp, I
spied a gold and black tail protruding from a hole in an old
log. As I approached the log, the tail slowly disappeared
inside, this movement catching Rafiki's attention. As Rafiki
sniffed and pawed at the hole and as Batian and Furaha
approached curiously, I rattled a stick on the log. Suddenly
a little form appeared from the log and dashed away. The hunt
was on. The lions bounded after the genet with me following.
The genet was, to my surprise, not caught by one of the
more agile females, but by Batian. He did not kill it
immediately, but held it close to his head, pinned down by
his already hefty paws. He then keenly peered at the
protesting genet. I will never forget his expression of
surprise and, perhaps, indignation, as suddenly the genet
lunged forward and bit him on the nose. Then, repeatedly, the
courageous genet pecked at Batian's face with tiny,
razor-sharp teeth. Rafiki and Furaha approached and, after
growling at them, warning them away from his catch, Batian
swiftly bit the genet through its lower body. It died
quickly.
Later, after Batian had played with the body, both the
lionesses in turn inspected the genet, grimacing after
sniffing and mouthing the little form. I watched, feeling a
mixture of admiration and sadness for the genet, so
courageous against its impossibly large foe. It was a feeling
I was to experience many tunes on similar occasions over the
months ahead. If I had not rattled the stick, perhaps the
genet would not have bolted out of its safe haven. Coupled
with this emotion, though, I was proud of Batian, and when
the lions and I returned to camp, I couldn't tell Julie
quickly enough of Batian's accomplishment. Such incidents
evoked a strange mixture of conflicting emotions within me.
The lions' second kill was also partially influenced by my
actions. A few days after the genet incident, I was leading
the lions in the direction of a herd of impala which was
feeding near a baboon troop. I know, however, that no matter
how stealthy our stalk was, it would be impossible to. get
close to the impala; the keen-eyed baboons would typically
give our presence away with loud barks and insults.
As we approached, the inevitable shouts and barks broke
out - the impala were alerted, spotted us and the herd rushed
away. The baboons then, somewhat surprisingly, moved away
down a valley in no real hurry. The lions' hunting blood was
up though, excited by the noisy apes. They took off after the
baboons in a rush, abandoning for the moment any subtle
stalking techniques.
As I was running to catch up with the lions, I suddenly
heard ahead of me in the near distance the loud growling of
one of the lions and the screams of a baboon. A few minutes
later, I found Rafiki standing at the base of a tree staring
upwards. In the branches was a large, adult female baboon.
She had been injured by Rafiki and moved sluggishly above.
On my arrival, Rafiki turned and moved towards me. As I
stroked her head, I heard and then saw the baboon coming down
the tree, attempting to flee. As it touched the ground,
Rafiki bounded after it. I then lost sight of them both in
the scrubby bush, although I heard more growls and screams. l
again ran to where the sounds were coming from and saw the
baboon, clearly in great pain, slowly moving towards other
trees as Rafiki circled it. The baboon, I noticed, had been
bitten in the hindquarters and stomach.
Astonishingly, despite its wounds, with courage similar to
that displayed by the genet, the baboon turned and attempted
to rush at Rafiki with its vicious teeth bared. Rafiki
effortlessly skipped away. The baboon then noticed my
presence and turned to repeat its display at me. I too moved
away, though admittedly not with the grace of Rafiki. The
wounded and angry baboon was a terrifying sight and I knew
what formidable weapons their teeth were; baboons have been
known to disembowel attacking dogs.
The baboon then slowly limped to a tree and, after pulling
itself up, slumped in the branches. Rafiki repeatedly climbed
upwards, intimidating further the weakening baboon. Later, as
Rafiki began to lose interest in the baboon, I shot it,
justifying my action as it was dying a slow, painful death
while its carcass would. represent to the lions the
culmination of a successful hunt.
As the baboon fell to the ground, Rafiki leapt forward,
grasping it instinctively at the base of the spine,
inflicting her own coup de grace. At this point,
Batian and Furaha reappeared, trotting forward and panting,
obviously returning from their chase after the rest of the
troupe. Noticing the other two, Rafiki dragged the baboon
into some thick bushes, her mouth clamped around its neck.
Her muffled growls clearly indicated her possession of the
kill to her brother and sister. She then instinctively began
to pluck at the baboon's long fur for almost forty-five
minutes before beginning to feed. .1 sat and watched and
later saw Rafiki suddenly leave the carcass, allowing Batian
to take possession.
Baboons are by no means a preferred form of prey for
lions. However, as similar situations arose, I began to
realise that the young lions would take every opportunity to
attack baboon, which became what I can only describe as
'practice prey'. On some occasions, the carcasses were barely
eaten.
This baboon incident reminded me of an earlier time when,
in the Tuli, I observed three lionesses deliberately
instigating an attack on a baboon troupe for the benefit of
their large cubs. Again, the lionesses initiated the attack
solely for the purpose of teaching their offspring. After
encircling then rushing at the troupe, the lionesses moved
away to some shade, allowing the cubs to dash forward and
take over.
On that occasion, four young baboons were killed by the
cubs who were, in turn, partially intimidated by the return
of some large adult baboons. The adults taunted the cubs,
luring them away from low trees containing a multitude of
females and infants. As the cubs moved away, the formerly
entrapped baboons leapt from the bushes and trees, escaping
into the. undergrowth.
Another creature frequently pursued by my lions in those
early weeks was the monitor lizard. Two kinds of these large
lizards occur in the reserve - the water-loving Nile monitor
and the stout rock monitor, which the cubs would most
commonly come across. Full-grown, they are some one and a
half metres long and are well known for their whipping tail
if approached. These creatures were attacked by the lions
merely as practice prey as I never saw them attempting to eat
the lizards.
One evening, the lions came across a monitor which rushed
across the ground in front of them and then climbed into a
short tree. Furaha leapt into the air and swiped the monitor
off a branch. Rafiki pounced on it as it fell and quickly
nipped it in the lower spine. All three lions played with it
before, astonishingly, the monitor avenged itself somewhat.
Rafiki took the lizard's head into her mouth whereupon she
was promptly bitten on the tongue and there the monitor clung
determinedly. She pulled at the monitor's body, but in turn
was inflicting pain upon herself as the monitor held on with
a vice-like grip. I watched and chuckled as Rafiki pushed her
tongue out with the dangling monitor attached, then pulled
her tongue back in with a third of the monitor also
disappearing into her mouth.
She became terribly frustrated, growling loudly, but
because of the monitor's position, her growl sounded unlike
any I had ever heard. Furaha and Batian were startled by the
growls and looked around them, thinking that other lions were
nearby. Batian even ran off a little way. It took another
five minutes before Rafiki managed to release the monitor
from her bleeding tongue. She instantly moved away, leaving
the lizard on the ground, and walked towards Furaha at the
water-hole. For some reason, Batian returned to the lizard
and carried it off to the water-point. He dropped the lizard,
drank and then left it where it had fallen.
On another occasion, a monitor got the better of all three
lions. When this particular lizard was encircled by the
lions, it put up an extraordinary threat display. The lions
attempted to grasp the lizard with their paws but were
greatly disturbed by its lashing tail and by behaviour I had
never witnessed before in a monitor lizard. The metre-long
lizard began to leap forwards and upwards with its mouth
agape, bumping against the lions' heads and legs. The
lizard's behaviour so frustrated the lions that short fights
broke out amongst them. Whenever the lions bumped into my
foot or the rifle butt, they would leap away, fearing it was
the lizard. This confrontation went on for some twenty
minutes until a passing zebra herd distracted the lions and
the lizard was left in peace.
One other rather unusual creature which the young lions
would hunt was tortoise. On many occasions while with the
lions, I would see one of them stop and sink its head low -
the stalking position. I would naturally then look keenly
ahead, trying to see what was being hunted. The lion would
invariably creep forward, then dash ahead and pounce on to a
spot on the ground. Another tortoise, I would realise.
The tortoise's hard shell would be gnawed at and very
occasionally bitten through. Sometimes, the lions would play
with the tortoise, whose head would be tucked tightly inside
the shell, then leave it upside down as they became
distracted or disinterested. It was not uncommon for me to
have to turn the tortoises the right way up as the lions
walked away. Many escaped completely unscathed, apart from a
few more scratches on their hard shells.
Walking away, I would imagine the tortoise's perspective
on the incident. With its head just an inch or two above the
stony ground, it would trundle along to only it knew where.
Suddenly a huge shadow would be cast over it and, as the
tortoise hastily drew in its head and legs, it would feel a
tremendous bump. Hidden within its shell, it would be cuffed
by paws, unceremoniously dragged along the ground and left
upside down. Minutes later, inexplicably to the tortoise, it
would be righted once again and find itself alone. It would
cautiously emerge its head, then its legs and peer around,
before trundling along once again. As they are long-living
animals, such incidents are probably not uncommon to them. To
humanise the situation; one can visualise the ancient old
tortoise mumbling like a most put-upon grandfather grumbling
about noisy children, 'Blasted lion cubs again,' before
continuing on its way.
Those early days in the Tuli with the lions were a time of
great learning, not only for Batian, Furaha and Rafiki, but
also for me. In my privileged situation with the young pride
in the wilds, I witnessed unique interactions between the
lions and their prey. I also learned about many aspects of
lion behaviour and indeed the manner in which I had to
interrelate with the lions.
During the heat of the day, the lions and I would rest,
sprawled in whatever shade was available. I would occupy some
of these hottest hours by writing up notes on my observations
of the lions' return to the wild. Once, when working on my
notes while lying with the lions out of the sun, a somewhat
amusing incident with an elephant took place...
We - the lions and I - were resting in the shade of a
large tree. Nearby was a water-hole which had recently been
replenished with rain and was filled with clear waters. As I
turned over a page from a collection of loose notes, I
noticed Furaha next to me slowly roll on to her back with
that lazy indulgence that only lions seem to enjoy. With her
legs pointing upwards, she exposed her white underparts.
However, her relaxed state changed abruptly as her head
lolled towards the direction of the water-hole. Suddenly, in
a flurry, she hastily righted herself and stood up, staring
ahead. Her movements alerted both Batian and Rafiki, who
awoke with a start.
There at the water-hole less than fourteen metres away, a
young adult bull elephant stood motionless. It seems
incredible that the elephant was so close and yet I had heard
nothing of its approach. Elephants are well known for their
ability to move through the African bush quite silently -
termed as grey ghosts by some bush dwellers.
I felt tiny sitting under the tree, staring up at the
bull. My reaction was instantaneous, instinctive and
motivated by self-preservation; I fled. My papers dropped
from my hands, were caught by a gusting breeze and flew into
the air like giant confetti. As I reached the bank of a small
streambed, I stopped to look back. Batian had dashed away
with me and stood nearby, staring at the elephant. Rafiki was
between him and Furaha, who stood unmoving where just seconds
before we had all been resting peacefully.
I groaned inwardly as I saw Furaha begin to move into a
stalking stance. Surely this young lioness was not about to
take on four tons of elephant. I imagined her, largely
inexperienced in the ways of elephant, being slammed against
a tree by one tremendous sweep of the bull's trunk. Rafiki
too began to copy her sister while, like me, Batian hung back
observing. Both he and I were watchful, and neither of us as
enthusiastically fuelled with the spirit of a somewhat
daunting hunt as the lionesses.
I was helpless to intervene. The lionesses slowly crept
forward, hiding behind logs and bushes. The bull was;
however, now very aware of our presence, twisting his trunk
into the air, attempting to catch our scent. The two sisters
crept ever closer and suddenly the unexpected occurred. The
elephant let out a loud, high-pitched trumpet, turned and
crashed away. His hindquarters, as he ran, reminded me of
someone wearing baggy and wrinkled old trousers ten sizes too
big.
Furaha and Rafiki bounded after the bull. I came out of
the shadows and watched with amusement as Batian hastily
attempted to catch up with his sisters, enthusiastically
joining in the chase now that the elephant was fleeing.
I stood alone and listened as the sounds of the elephant
charging through the bush became increasingly distant. While
I awaited the lions' return, I walked around searching for my
scattered notes. Eventually, three panting lions reappeared.
They drank thirstily from the water-hole and then greeted me
happily. They had obviously thoroughly enjoyed seeing off the
elephant. Before we headed back to camp, the lions rested
while I searched fruitlessly for one still missing page,
which I never found.
Our arrival at camp that evening was typical of many
evenings during the first few months in the Tuli. I opened
the gate to let the lions into their enclosure, as always
having to wait for Batian as he plodded along behind. I would
call to Julie, who was normally busy in the kitchen area of
camp. Then, as the lions drank from the water-bowls, Julie
and I would begin to talk about the day's happenings before
feeding the three.
Meat would have been taken out of an old gas freezer by
our only staff member, an elderly Tswana man named John Knox.
John was a roguish but very likeable character who did not
stay with us long. His tenure at Tawana Camp was shortened
due to his extremely large and overbearing wife. One day she
appeared in the reserve after a long absence in South Africa.
Upon meeting John, she attacked him with scandalous
accusations, claiming that she had heard that in her absence
he had had a bevy of girlfriends with him at our camp. This
was, of course, quite untrue, but, at his wife's insistence,
he left our employ. We were sorry to see him go as we liked
old John. So too, it seemed, did the lions, particularly in
the evenings when he approached their enclosure carrying
buckets full of meat. The lions were at that time still
familiar with people. However, I feel that as this
familiarity faded over the months, they would have retained a
friendship with John if he had stayed with us.
During those evenings, it became clear to me that I had to
be very aware of not standing or sitting close to Julie in
front of the lions. Upon seeing me with Julie, they would
become agitated and pace up and down in their enclosure. They
were clearly possessive of me. When this occurred, I would
leave Julie and spend tune with the lions, calming them.
Strangely, as I settled the lions, any one of them, but
particularly Rafiki, would grip on to the skin of my arm with
their teeth, holding me firmly. They rarely bit too hard and
never broke the skin. This was a clear demonstration of their
possessiveness and strong emotional attachment to me.
When John was with us, he seemed very proud of his role
with 'Ra di Tau' - the Lion Man, as I was nicknamed by the
local Tswana people. It also appeared that on John's day off,
the stories he told of his work (heavily embellished and
exaggerated by the consumption of alcoholic beverages)
reached epic proportions. After John had been away, people
working at other camps in the reserve would question us as to
whether it was true that John walked, without fear, amongst
the lions, instructing them to hunt impala for him like a
pack of dogs!
However, just before John was taken away by his wife, an
incident took place which illustrated to us that John was not
as comfortable in his work, nor as completely happy about his
safety in our camp, as we had thought. Late one afternoon,
John and I were working together at camp while Julie was away
for the night. I had left the lions in the bush earlier in
the day to let them return on their own in the evening. As
John and I were putting the rather rough finishing touches to
a small so-called 'office' constructed from wood offcuts, we
heard the lions cooing outside camp. I went through the gate
to greet them as John watched from inside.
As I bent down to head rub with Furaha, with Rafiki next
to me (and without first checking where Batian was), I
suddenly felt a heavy weight crash into me. I fell backwards
and went sprawling, ending up three or four metres from where
I had been standing. Batian, unseen by me, had joyously flung
his now considerable eighty-odd kilograms up on to me.
I remember thinking as I landed on the dirt that it was
imperative that I get up quickly, for all the lions could
bundle on to me. My fears disappeared as I looked up. Rafiki
was head-rubbing with Furaha while, in front of them, Batian
approached me, looking amiable and calm. I stood up using
Batian's shoulder as leverage.
My thoughts turned to John and I looked into the camp and
saw him standing with a terrified expression on his face.
After dusting the soil from my back and allowing my heart
time to resume its normal rhythm, I stepped back into camp
through the gate. I walked up to John, assuring him that I
was all right and that Batian had not attacked me but had
been over-enthusiastic in his greeting.
John looked worse than I felt. He then said, 'I was so
worried. I thought now you are dead, finished. The lion had
knocked you dead.' I was touched by his apparent concern and
repeated that all was fine.
John spoke again in a tone indicating that I had not
understood him properly. 'No, no.1 was worried because if you
were dead, I would be alone in this camp tonight. I wouldn't
even be able to go away. Julie is only coming back tomorrow.'
I laughed as he did, both of us laughing for different
reasons. John's concern was pragmatic, but his attitude
towards what he thought had occurred did have some point. To
him, if I was dead, I was dead, and nothing was going to
change that. But he would be very much alive and totally
alone.
Being knocked to the ground by Batian, though, was the
only time with the lions that I felt I was in a potentially
dangerous situation. My answer when questioned by people
about my safety with the lions is normally, 'If I did get
hurt, it would almost certainly be due to my own wrong
actions or body language.'
This incident was an example. Instead of immediately
greeting the lioness, I should have checked. on Batian's
whereabouts first. Early on in their rehabilitation, the
lions had to be broken of the habit of jumping up on to me.
By shouting or tapping them with a stick, they soon stopped
this habit, although Rafiki occasionally still does it to
this day. It is always when either she or I have been away
for an extended period or if she is disturbed in some way and
in need of emotional security.
* The author is currently co-authoring a paper on the
rehabilitation and the physical and behavioural development
of lions.
