I take charge of Pippa
IN September, 1964, I was asked by a friend to adopt an eight months old female cheetah
cub owned by a family who were moving to England I and wanted their pet to remain in
Kenya. At this time I was camping on location with Columbia Pictures at the foot of Mt.
Kenya where the company was making the film version of Born Free. Since my position
at the film unit excluded any handling of the lions, I was free to have a pet and accepted
the offer with joy.
Although cheetah are the easiest of all wild cats to tame, little is known about their
habits when in the wild. They are unique in that they combine characteristics of the dog
as well as of the cat and although they are classed as cats, they do not really fit into
any category with other animals. They are the fastest mammals in the world over a short
distance, and have been timed to run at sixty miles an hour and more. (The limit of a
racehorse is forty miles an hour.) The cheetah is built for speed with light bones, a
small head, a minute chin and long, slender legs. Like a dog, it cannot retract its claws;
it sits in dog-like fashion and hunts like a canine; however, its pug-marks are
characteristic of a cat, as well as its use of the dew-claw and its, possibly acquired,
ability to climb trees. Its sandy-coloured coat is sleek like that of a short-haired dog
while its black spots are fluffy like a cat's fur.
Cheetah are solitary animals inhabiting open plains and are seldom seen in company
except when mating or with young. The cubs, usually numbering up to four, are born after a
gestation period of ninety to ninety-three days, with a long, fluffy mane and greyish coat
which covers the upper half of the body from head to tail and is in strong contrast to the
dark-coloured, short-haired, spotted coat which covers the lower part of the body. For the
first two or three months of their life the cubs look almost like silver-backed jackals
with a fancy spotted undercarriage. Then their coat becomes sand-coloured, spotted all
over and the ruff remains only along the top of their neck and shoulders.
The name cheetah originated in India and means 'the spotted one'. Its history is
intriguing, for we find cheetah used as emblems on the reliefs and friezes of the ancient
Egyptians, where they exemplify courage; there are only two records of a cheetah becoming
a royal pet - these belonged to Genghis Khan and Charlemagne. Until recently Indian
princes used to hunt with cheetahs trained to run down game but since 1930 there has been
no record of a cheetah living wild in India; the species now survives only in Africa.
During a recent census it was found that the cheetah still stands his ground in certain
parts of East Africa but will survive only if protected.
The cheetah female cub offered to me had been found abandoned in Wajir, a desert region
of the Northern Frontier District of Kenya. The Major of a regiment stationed in the area
took the tiny orphan and reared her with his children at his home near Nairobi. Soon the
cub began to accompany the family on their shopping visits to the city and became a
popular guest in the dining rooms of several Nairobi restaurants.
Major and Mrs Dunkey asked me to meet them on the 17th of October 1964, at the New
Stanley Hotel. When I saw a couple drinking tea in the company of a cheetah cub who
squatted pertly on a chair opposite them, with its golden eyes watching everything that
went on intently, I needed no introduction.
I fell in love with the cat at first sight, but kept to an old rule of mine when
meeting children and animals and waited for the cub to take the initiative. Giving her
time to make up her mind about me, I chatted with the Dunkeys, trying to learn all I could
about her habits. I was told that Kitten, as they called her, loved children and played
hide and seek with them between the rose bushes in the garden but that she was inclined to
chase strangers and dogs. I also learned that Kitten slept on Mrs Dunkey's bed and that
when she had her morning tea the cat drank milk out of a dish. Unfortunately she had the
habit of wetting the bed so I was promised a plastic sheet as protection. I was told that
Kitten adored a rabbit doll made of plush which might be useful in diverting her attention
should she do something she was not supposed to do. Finally I was advised that if she went
on strike and wouldn't budge, I was to lift her by her tail and scruff a proceeding to
which she had become quite used. She ate three pounds of raw meat a day and drank a lot of
milk to which four drops of Abidec (vitamins) were to be added; as an occasional treat I
was to give her a mousebird.
While we talked, Kitten scrutinized me, her eyes half closed under her heavy brows,
then she came over to me, purred loudly and licked my face. While I stroked her soft fur I
felt her body vibrating like an engine, breathing in and out she gave the famous cheetah
purr, finally she nibbled at my ear. That, I was assured, was a sign of great affection.
We now all felt relieved, knowing that I was accepted and that we would soon be good
friends.
The Dunkeys told me that they had been offered up to £400 for their pet by people who
wanted to take her to England or America. Though they were not rich they declined these
offers, preferring to find a home for Kitten in Kenya where she could live in as much
freedom as possible. Knowing of my love for animals and of our relationship with Elsa,
they hoped I would adopt Kitten and give her a happy life. I was deeply touched by their
trust and the precious gift of their much loved pet and promised that I would do all
within my power to fulfil their hopes.
It was at this moment that the plan of rehabilitating Kitten to the wild life she had
been born to came into my mind, but as I did not know if this would be possible I did not
mention it to the Dunkeys. In fact, I said that I would be obliged, while living with the
film unit, to confine her because of all the lions in the camp and would only be able to
free her when taking her out for exercise to the neighbouring plains. This was agreed.
A few days later the Dunkeys brought Kitten to the film location at Naro Moru, a
hundred and twenty miles north of Nairobi. This was where the film of Born Free
was being shot and where I was staying at the time. I had prepared a large wire
enclosure adjoining my two tents. I had built it round a tree amongst whose branches we
had erected a wooden platform to satisfy a cheetah's climbing instinct. We also, as
substitute for rocks, placed a few wooden benches in the compound. To make Kitten
comfortable during the night I had a big wooden crate built, with a sliding door made of
wire on the side facing the inside of my tent. Another door opened on to the compound;
like this she could keep in touch with me should she feel lonely.
I thought that the change of fosterparents would be the right moment for altering her
bed-sleeping habit and so I padded the sleeping crate with her familiar blankets, cushion
and the toys the Dunkeys had brought and I placed my bed along the wired side of the
crate, thus being within the cub's reach during the night.
I als9 asked the Dunkeys if I might change her name from Kitten to Pippa
which was phonetically similar and easier to pronounce when calling her over long
distances, and this too was agreed.
I realize, in retrospect, that most of the names I had given my previous pets started
with a P: Pippin, Pati, Pampo, etc. If they got lost an explosive consonant carried more
easily across a distance.
Poor Pippa, how much she would now have to learn.
When all had been arranged I suggested we should have lunch. Having seen Pippa quite at
ease in the Stanley Hotel lounge, amongst a crowd of people, I took it as a matter of
course that she should join us and I expected to introduce her to the film unit who knew
of her arrival. But when we reached the farm house at the far end of the film location, we
saw people leaving the dining hall and walking across the lawn to their rooms and as soon
as Pippa hopped out of the car there was a rush. By the slamming and banging of doors I
realized that the cheetah's arrival was causing some alarm among the personnel of the unit
and I felt rather embarrassed by this welcome, but Pippa walked into the dining room
unconcerned by all the dash for safety, sat in a ladylike fashion at our table and behaved
with perfect manners throughout our meal. Indeed she appeared to be so intrigued by her
new environment that she did not want to go away and Major Dunkey had finally to
demonstrate the 'tail and scruff' lifting operation and carry her into the car. Later, the
Dunkeys returned to Nairobi. I admired their self-control and the way in which they parted
with their friend, Kitten, knowing what it must have meant for both of them.
Now, Pippa was my responsibility.
Back at the Simba Camp she aroused great interest amongst the lions who were playing
parts in the film; of these there were a considerable number since it was impossible to
know in advance which could be trained to recreate the various incidents of Elsa's life.
Pippa's nearest neighbours, two old lionesses, paced up and down inside their enclosure to
get the best view of the strange, spotted creature. The various compounds were separated
not only by great distances and had trees between them, but some also had screens to
prevent the animals from seeing each other; it was hoped that this would pacify them. But
I wondered how these precautions could prevent the lions from hearing and scenting each
other, particularly as after dark their roars often shook the stillness of the night.
Although I found this chorus, which built up to awe-inspiring crescendos and ebbed away to
synchronized whuffings, fascinating, poor Pippa was terrified. Tense with fear, she stared
in the direction of the sounds. Although I sat close to her, talking calmly and stroking
her, it took the best part of the night before she relaxed and settled down.
Lions and cheetahs do not get on well when living wild, so Pippa's reaction was
understandable.
It was therefore a great relief that, on the following day, part of the film unit, and
I too, were leaving for the coast to film the scenes in which Elsa is supposed to play
with her human fosterparents in the ocean. Not being sure if the film lions would enter
the sea, it was decided to take two lionesses, Girl and Mara, to the coast in the hope
that one might oblige. The camp for the filming of these scenes had already been prepared
and while the majority of the unit flew to the coast the animals travelled to Malindi in a
convoy of five cars by road.
Pippa was used to cars and quickly settled on the front seat between my servant,
Muguru, and myse1£ She took a great interest in everything she could see along
the way; certainly she was happy for she often rubbed her silky head affectionately
against mine or licked my face. We broke the long journey - 540 miles at Mtito Ndei, which
is half-way, and spent the night at the hotel. It was easy to get permission for Pippa to
walk around the grounds, join us for dinner, to the delight of the other guests, and share
my room. The poor lions were less fortunate and had to be confined inside the cars. We
parked them out side our bungalows so that we could give the animals moral support and
throughout the night often visited them but they never stopped restlessly pacing around.
At dawn we continued our safari. Hoping to shorten the journey and reduce their discomfort
to the minimum we took a short cut through the National Park at Voi but unfortunately lost
our way amongst the many tracks and arrived, very much later than we expected, at our
destination. Then, at last, the exhausted lions were able to relax in their compounds
which were at the film camp, built along the Blue Lagoon. I drove on another five miles to
the open sea where a bungalow had been rented for Pippa and myself.
The film camp was fenced in by wire which extended far into the sea at either side.
This was done less to confine the animals than to keep the local people away for they, who
had never before seen a lion, swarmed around the place. Pippa aroused an equal interest,
not only among people but also among dogs. The news of her arrival must have spread like
bush-fire and, worse than any bitch in heat, she was soon besieged by every dog in the
vicinity. Luckily for her, the owner of the place agreed to attach a wire enclosure to the
bungalow to give her some space to walk about in without being molested by the dogs.
While this was being erected, I took her to the beach together with Muguru but
unfortunately I had to keep her on a 60 ft. long nylon line. I was curious as to how she
would respond to the sea as I had never heard of a cheetah swimming and, in fact, Pippa
did not seem to like sea bathing for, after a few attempts to wet her paws when trying to
follow me into the ocean, she decided to wait on the beach with Muguru until I returned
from my swim. Meanwhile her curiosity was aroused by all the busy crabs around her; she
was very surprised to see them disappear into holes just at the moment she was about to
pounce on them. Perplexed, she looked at me, then suddenly decided to have a full-speed
run along the beach. That was all right for her but not much fun for me, for I had to keep
up with her by hanging on to the nylon line.
Luckily, our race was stopped by a large coral rock which, at low tide, stood isolated
on the beach. Pippa investigated it, first, sniffing around its base, then climbing
swiftly to its top regardless of the sharp surface of the coral. She looked superb as she
stood silhouetted against the sky, gazing at the ocean. Indeed, she seemed as much
impressed by the vastness of the scene as I was. Then suddenly she squatted, delivered her
droppings and quickly jumped off the rock while I tried to disentangle the nylon line
before it was cut to threads by the sharp-edged coral.
While I was still engaged in doing this, Pippa, rolling in the sand and clasping a
rotten coconut, started a new game. Covered with wet sand, she looked so comical that I
laughed aloud. This seemed to hurt her feelings; unexpectedly she pushed her legs with
such force against me that I somersaulted backwards and when I got up was so bedraggled
that I felt properly put in my place. I had barely time to scramble to my feet when she
raced off and I had to run after her at what seemed to me not sixty, but a hundred miles
an hour. It would have been great fun but for the ghastly nylon line. This had been given
to me by the Dunkeys who had used it on a previous holiday when they had taken Pippa to
the coast. They had advised me not to let her loose because she might chase people walking
on the beach and because of the thick belt of vegetation which grew along the shore in
which she might get lost. The precaution was already justified so far as the local
fishermen were concerned, for however often I assured them that Pippa was a harmless pet,
at her sight they bolted, thus inviting her to chase them.
Next day we visited the film camp. To everyone's delight, Girl and Mara had taken to
the sea as if they had been born to it, and the difficulty was not how to induce them to
enter the water, but to get them out of it. In spite of all the fun, poor Girl was so
distressed at being separated from her brother, Boy, (another star of the animal cast)
that it was decided to arrange for him to join her. While he was on his way, Mara and Girl
rested in their compounds.
This gave all of us an opportunity to take a swim. For some time Pippa watched us
splashing in the water then suddenly she joined us, her mouth tightly closed. Soon she got
out of her depth, but paddling frantically she swam after me. I felt very proud that she
should have done so just to keep close to me and I thought that by swimming in the ocean
she had probably set a precedent in cheetah habits.
Next morning, while walking with Pippa and Muguru along the beach, I left her for a
short time in charge of the boy. On my return, he showed me her empty harness dangling
from the nylon line: she had slipped out of it in her attempt to follow me. We were about
a mile from home and I was alarmed as it was impossible to trace her spoor in the dense
vegetation. We called and searched as best we could for a long time and later were joined
by our host. In the end we all got too thirsty to continue so I suggested going home for a
drink and afterwards carrying on the search. As soon as we approached the bungalow I had a
strange feeling that I was being watched and, bending low, saw Pippa hiding under a bush.
She seemed as happy as I was that we were together again and, after a lot of face licking,
she followed us home. I was astonished that after such a short time in a new environment
she had been able to find her way back, and felt humbled at having so underestimated her
innate homing instinct.
She soon developed another habit which puzzled me. We usually took our morning walks
along the beach at early dawn when the air was cool and hardly any people were on the
beach. The afternoon walks were less private and more of an effort because of the heat.
But at whatever time of the day we passed the big coral rock, Pippa made a rush for it and
deposited her droppings on its top. Later I observed that she always preferred to do her
droppings on elevations, either on anthills or tree stumps. Possibly this was due to
either an instinctive preference for a safe strategic position while handicapped in
movement or to mark her territory. But how she could make the release of her motions
coincide with whatever time we happened to pass the chosen spot, I could not understand.
Within the next few days Pippa grew less nervous of the water and, especially at low
tide, enjoyed exploring the exposed beaches around the larger coral rocks of which there
were several close to the coast. Unfortunately, I had always to control her by the nylon
line as she was only too keen to climb these islands from which I would have had no means
of bringing her back should she decide to stay there when the tide came in. Meanwhile, she
had a lot of fun poking at little fish in shallow pans, chasing after the provoking crabs
or just splashing about in the water. Obviously, I was never able to photograph her
swimming as she only did this to follow me and I could not take a photograph in these
circumstances.
One night the sea got very rough and the roaring of the crashing waves ebbed away only
at dawn when the tide receded. On our morning walk we found large piles of seaweed, up to
six feet high, deposited along the line of the tide, separated by narrow gaps. Pippa
seemed to think that they had been put there for her entertainment and leapt from one pile
to the next across the gaps with such speed that she seemed almost to fly. Having still to
control her by the nylon line, Muguru and I took breathless turns at keeping up with her,
and dreaded these heaps as much as Pippa favoured them. As she only interrupted our
exercises when other distractions diverted her interest, I now welcomed all holidaymakers
in sight as they usually stopped to admire Pippa or to take photographs. Although she was
camera shy, she tolerated this but then took her revenge by catching her admirers off
guard, advancing on them from the back and then, with a quick movement of her front leg,
swiping at their knees.
The filming of the lions in the sea went off splendidly and everybody was very pleased
with the results. Towards the end of our stay I too wanted to take photographs of these
marvellous scenes. Trying to keep out of the way of the filming unit, I waited my
opportunity near a coral rock while the camera crew floated on a raft close to the actors.
According to the script, Mara was supposed to swim, with Bill and Ginny Travers (acting
George and myself) and then all were to walk together to the beach. But Mara was far more
interested in the rolling waves which, as they reached the shore, broke high into spraying
foam, then dissolved into little ripples, soaked up by the sand. She dived powerfully
through the breakers, letting them roll over her and bobbed up and down in the glistening
foam waiting for the next wave to swamp her again. The Traverses had a tough time to keep
up with her until they could direct her towards the cameras and wade with her into the
picture. At this moment Mara saw me: she knew me well, but as I was wearing an unfamiliar
bathing suit she seemed not to have recognized me and, judging by her flattened ears, as
she waded over determinedly, I knew that I was in for a rough game. Hoping to break the
impact of her final rush and avoid landing on the sharp coral I pretended to feel at ease
and walked slowly behind the rock, only just in time to rescue my camera from her reach
before she bounced on me and knocked me into the shallow water. Then, having identified
me, she sat on me and licked me gently while I stroked her. Finally she got up and waded
back to the raft.
It was only then that I discovered she had accidentally slightly scratched my arm which
started to bleed as soon as I lifted it out of the water. Making use of the salt water as
a disinfectant I washed it repeatedly, then waded to the beach to take some photographs of
the filming from the car of the White hunter who had transported Mara to the scene. After
this I swam out to the raft to congratulate everyone on the marvellous shots they must
have got that morning.
On returning to the beach I was surprised to see our nursing Sister arriving with the
first aid box. Apparently she had been summoned by the White hunter. I was very fond of
Sister and appreciated her concern about my scratches but explained that I did not need
all the injections which she was preparing to give me and suggested that all I needed was
sulphanilamide. This had always proved very effective in dealing with the various injuries
I had received during the years in which I had lived amongst wild animals and these
injuries had been much worse than today's superficial wound. Sister, however, insisted
that I must be in great pain and therefore needed morphia and that I must also be treated
for delayed shock since, considering my lacerated arm, my behaviour was abnormal; next I
was to be injected with penicillin to prevent blood poisoning and have inoculations
against tetanus. In fact, I had to have the lot, for who was I to know what should be done
in such an emergency?
Although I sympathized with Sister, who seemed to sense that this might be her only
opportunity to use the lavish assortment of medical supplies with which she had been
equipped for such a potentially dangerous film as ours was, with twenty lions starring as
co-partners, I did not see why I should be the victim.
But all my protests were silenced and after being duly injected with all those powerful
drugs, I was taken to the Malindi hospital to be stitched up as well. During the twenty
mile drive I felt very sick and only just managed to stagger into the hospital. I was so
full of drugs that the doctor decided to give me one more injection to counteract the
previous ones. By this time I was beyond caring and only vaguely conscious of having my
arm attended to.
Eventually I was allowed to go home and to bed. Dizzy from all the treatment I dozed
off But not for long for soon visitors arrived to enquire how I felt. Though this must
have been obvious, they chatted on until another party came, followed by yet another. All
I longed for was to be left alone. It took me two days to recover from the drugs, during
which Pippa spent most of her time close to me. Since we had only known each other for two
weeks I was very touched at this proof of her affection.
All my life I had wanted to have a cheetah as a friend - then Elsa arrived. After her
death I determined not again to become attached to any animal. But as cheetah have such a
different temperament and character from lions, I felt I could become attached to Pippa
without feeling disloyal to Elsa. If the lion is gregarious, demonstrative in his
affections, ritual in his habits, fears no natural enemy, placidly self-possessed, the
cheetah is elusive, highly strung, always on the alert and instinctively conceals himself.
Listening now to Pippa purring, I was as content as she seemed to be.
The film unit went back to Naro Moru but I stayed on for a little longer to do some TV
scenes for a programme intended to show the attractions of Kenya. Among the sites chosen
were the ruins of Gedi, an ancient Arab town which had recently been excavated. Its
atmosphere was ghostly but Pippa brought gaiety to it as she skipped amongst the broken,
ornate gates and palace walls, her golden, spotted fur in beautiful contrast to the grey
stones. She also helped me when doing scenes of the shore for she gave an unusual touch to
beachcombing.
When we were ready to return, I found myself left to drive alone with Pippa from
Mombasa to Naro Moru, a distance of 420 miles. After some hours she became very restless
and, apart from jumping about in the car, insisted on sitting on the steering wheel and on
my bandaged arm. Finally I had no choice but to put her into the wired travelling crate I
had taken along for such an emergency. Pippa resented this very much. Never before had she
been confined in a crate and she protested furiously, uttering a great variety of sounds
which simulated bird calls. Amongst her repertoire I identified the call of yellow-neck
(francolin). It took about two hours before she became exhausted and settled down.
At this time I knew very little about the habits of cheetah and took her vocal
performance as a normal reaction to distress. But, later, when I asked cheetah and bird
experts about it, I learned that I had been privileged to listen to a unique demonstration
of a wild mammal imitating bird calls. Although, on two later occasions, I heard Pippa
mock yellow-necks, she never again gave voice to such variety of sounds; but nor has she
since been in such distress.
Cheetah live largely on birds and small mammals and it may be that in the wild they
imitate a bird in order to deceive and attract it. Yet, whenever I have watched Pippa
stalking birds, she has never uttered a sound. Perhaps this is because she has only been
playing with the birds, not actually hunting them for food. The metallic chirp of the
cheetah is well known, it is used to communicate or when alarmed. When Pippa defends her
meat she growls and breathes heavily, but when she is content her purring shakes her body.
She had a cosy sleeping box but even if it were raining, she liked best to sleep
outside in her compound. This was encouraging as it proved that she preferred natural
conditions to living as a pet. Further to break her domestic habits, I stopped taking her
to the main farmhouse where the unit lived; in any case, neither she nor the film people
enjoyed each other's company. Pippa also never came to be at ease with the lions which
lived close to the Simba Camp but as there was nothing I could do about this, I spent as
much time as I could with her on the plains where she was truly happy.
As soon as I let her out of the car she raced off into space, enjoying her freedom. She
also loved the coloured balloons I brought along for her. Carried by the wind, they bobbed
wildly across the grass until she touched them with her claws and then, with a pop, they
burst. Perplexed, she would sniff at the shrivelled remains until I inflated a new
balloon, then off she went on another chase. Other sources of fun were the ant-bear and
wart-hog holes with freshly piled earth around to prove they were occupied. By the way in
which Pippa almost disappeared into them I could judge how attractive their scent must be
to her. She certainly did not share my worry about what would happen should one of the
occupants come out to investigate. But the best fun of all was provided by the antelopes
who grazed around in numerous herds. The little Thomson's gazelle especially intrigued
Pippa. After a few days they realized that we represented no danger to them and,
exasperatingly disinterested, paid no attention to Pippa's stalking. However cleverly she
crept through the grass, wriggling close to the ground and taking the best advantage of
wind and cover, they ignored her and went on busily whisking their little tails until she
was almost on top of them. Then, hopping off on stiff legs, they would turn round and wait
until she had caught up again only to repeat their provocation. I watched fascinated and
was glad to see that Pippa's previous life as pet had not impaired her natural instincts
so I could hope that, with more opportunities and practice, she might some day hunt her
prey like a wild cheetah.
