Born Free Read online

  JOY ADAMSON

  Born Free

  The Full Story

  PAN BOOKS

  Preface

  Whether fact or fiction lies at the root of tales which credit the Assyrians with having trained lions as cheetahs, greyhounds or retrievers are today trained to hunt in co-operation with man, the Adamsons can certainly claim to be the first for several thousand years to have made an approach to achieving that result with a lioness – and that, not by any deliberate attempt to do so, but merely by allowing the animal to grow up in their company and never allowing her nature to be subjected to the strains of being confined in any way.

  The history of their lioness ‘Elsa’, reared from earliest infancy to three years old and finally returned to a wild life, forms a unique and illuminating study in animal psychology – a subject to which the last half-century has seen a wholly new approach. Partly, no doubt, in revolt against the tendency of nineteenth-century writers to attribute to animals anthropomorphic qualities of intelligence, sentiment and emotion, the twentieth century has seen the development of a school of thought according to which the springs of animal behaviour are to be sought in terms of ‘conditioned reflexes’, ‘release mechanisms’, and the rest of a wholly new vocabulary which is regarded as the gateway to a clearer understanding of animal psychology. To another way of thinking which cannot reconcile that mechanical conception with the diverse character, intelligence, and capabilities exhibited by different individuals of the same species, that gateway to understanding seems as far removed from truth as the anthropomorphism of a previous generation, and more apt to raise a further barrier to a sympathetic understanding of animal behaviour than a revelation of it.

  To whatever way of thinking the reader of Elsa’s history may lean, it provides a record of absorbing interest depicting the gradual development of a controlled character which few would have credited as possible in the case of an animal potentially as dangerous as any in the world. That such a creature when in a highly excited state, with her blood up after a long struggle with a bull buffalo, and while still on top of it, should have permitted a man to walk up to her and cut the dead beast’s throat to satisfy his religious scruples, and then lend her assistance in pulling the carcass out of a river is an astonishing tribute no less to her intelligence than to her self-control.

  If the most fanciful author of animal stories of the nineteenth century had drawn the imaginary character of a lioness acting in that manner it would assuredly have been ridiculed as altogether ‘out of character’ and too improbable to carry conviction – and yet Elsa’s record shows that it is no more than sober fact.

  If in her development Elsa has made her own commentary both on the ‘anthropomorphism’ of the nineteenth century and the ‘science’ of the twentieth, she has not lived in vain.

  WILLIAM PERCY

  Contents

  Preface by Lord William Percy

  PART ONE

  1. Cub Life

  2. Elsa Meets Other Wild Animals

  3. Elsa Goes to the Indian Ocean

  4. Safari to Lake Rudolf

  5. Elsa and Wild Lions

  6. The First Release

  7. The Second Release

  8. The Final Test

  9. Postscripts

  PART TWO

  10. Elsa Mates with a Wild Lion

  11. The Birth of the Cubs

  12. We See the Cubs

  13. The Cubs Meet Friends

  14. The Cubs in Camp

  15. The Personality of the Cubs

  16. Elsa Meets Her Publisher

  17. The Camp Is Burned

  18. Elsa’s Fight

  19. Dangers of the Bush

  20. Cubs and Cameras

  21. Elsa Educates the Cubs

  22. A New Year Begins

  PART THREE

  23. The Deportation Order

  24. Elsa Is Ill

  25. Elsa’s Death

  26. Guardians of Elsa’s Children

  27. Plans to Move the Cubs

  28. Have the Cubs Found a Pride?

  29. The Cubs in Trouble

  30. Crisis

  31. Preparations for Trapping the Cubs

  32. The Capture

  33. The Journey to the Serengeti

  34. The Release

  35. The Migration

  36. The Ravine

  37. I Become a Tourist in the Serengeti

  38. We See the Cubs Again

  39. The Long Search

  40. The Price of Freedom

  Maps

  PART ONE

  1. Cub Life

  For many years my home has been in the Northern Frontier Province of Kenya, that vast stretch of semi-arid thornbush, covering some hundred and twenty thousand square miles, which extends from Mount Kenya to the Abyssinian border.

  Civilization has made little impact on this part of Africa; there are no settlers; the local tribes live very much as their forefathers did, and the place abounds in wild life of every description.

  My husband, George, is Senior Game Warden of this huge territory and our home is on the southern border of the Province, near Isiolo, a small township of about thirty Whites, all of whom are government officials engaged in the task of administering the territory.

  George has many duties, such as enforcing the Game Laws, preventing poaching and dealing with dangerous animals that have molested the tribesmen. His work causes him to travel over tremendous distances; these journeys we call safaris. Whenever it is possible I accompany my husband on such trips and in this way I have had unique opportunities of coming to grips with this wild, unchanged land, where life is tough and nature asserts her own laws.

  This story has its beginning on one of these safaris. A Boran tribesman had been killed by a man-eating lion. It was reported to George that this animal, accompanied by two lionesses, was living in some nearby hills and so it became his duty to track them down. This was why we were camping far to the north of Isiolo among the Boran tribesmen.

  Early on the morning of 1 February, 1956, I found myself in camp alone with Pati, a rock hyrax who had been living with us as a pet for six and a half years. She looked like a marmot or a guinea pig; though zoologists will have it that on account of the bone structure of its feet and teeth, the hyrax is most nearly related to rhinos and elephants.

  Pati snuggled her soft fur against my neck and from this safe position watched all that went on. The country around us was dry with outcrops of granite and only sparse vegetation; all the same there were animals to be seen, for there were plenty of gerenuk and other gazelles, creatures that have adapted themselves to these dry conditions and rarely, if ever, drink.

  Suddenly I heard the vibrations of a car; this could only mean that George was returning much earlier than expected. Soon our Land Rover broke through the thornbush and stopped near our tents, and I heard George shout: ‘Joy, where are you? Quick, I have something for you . . .’

  I rushed out with Pati on my shoulder and saw the skin of a lion. But before I could ask about the hunt, George pointed to the back of the car. There were three lion cubs, tiny balls of spotted fur, each trying to hide its face from everything that went on. They were only a few weeks old and their eyes were still covered with a bluish film. They could hardly crawl, nevertheless they tried to creep away. I took them on my lap to comfort them, while George, who was most distressed, told me what had happened. Towards dawn, he and another game warden, Ken, had been guided near to the place where the man-eater was said to lie up. When first light broke they were charged by a lioness who rushed out from behind some rocks. Though they had no wish to kill her, she was very close and the way back was hazardous; so George signalled to Ken to shoot; he hit and wounded her. The lioness disappeared, and when they went forward they found a
heavy trail of blood leading upwards. Cautiously, step by step, they went over the crest of the hill till they came to a huge flat rock. George climbed on to it to get a better view, while Ken skirted around below. Then he saw Ken peer under the rock, pause, raise his rifle and fire both barrels. There was a growl; the lioness appeared and came straight at Ken. George could not shoot for Ken was in his line of fire; fortunately a Game Scout who was in a more favourable position fired his rifle and caused the animal to swerve; then George was able to kill her. She was a big lioness in the prime of life, her teats swollen with milk. It was only when he saw this that George realized why she had been so angry and faced them so courageously. Then he blamed himself for not having recognized earlier that her behaviour showed that she was defending her litter.

  Now he ordered a search to be made for the cubs; presently he and Ken heard slight sounds coming out of a crack in the rock face. They put their arms down the crevice as far as they could reach; loud infantile growls and snarls greeted this unsuccessful manoeuvre. Next they cut a long hooked stick and after a lot of probing managed to drag the cubs out; they could not have been more than two or three weeks old. They were carried to the car where the two biggest growled and spat during the whole of the journey back to camp. The third and smallest, however, offered no resistance and seemed quite unconcerned. Now the three cubs lay in my lap, and how could I resist making a fuss of them?

  To my amazement Pati, who was usually very jealous of any rival, soon came to nestle among them, and obviously accepted them as desirable companions. From that day onwards, the four became inseparable. During these early days Pati was the biggest of the company and also, being six years old, was very dignified compared with the clumsy little velvet bags who couldn’t walk without losing their balance.

  It was two days before the cubs accepted their first milk. Until then, whatever trick I tried to make them swallow diluted unsweetened Ideal milk only resulted in their pulling up their tiny noses and protesting: ‘ng-ng, ng-ng’; very much as we did as children, before we had learned better manners and been taught to say, ‘No, thank you.’

  Once they had accepted the milk, they could not get enough of it, and every two hours I had to warm it and clean the flexible rubber tube which we had taken from the wireless set to serve as a teat until we were able to get a proper baby’s bottle. We had sent at once to the nearest African market, which was about fifty miles away, not only for the teat but also for cod-liver oil, glucose and cases of unsweetened milk and had at the same time sent an SOS to the District Commissioner at Isiolo, about 150 miles away, announcing the arrival there within a fortnight of Three Royal Babies, asking him to be good enough to have a comfortable wooden home made in time for our return.

  Within a few days the cubs had settled down and were everybody’s pets. Pati, their most conscientious self-appointed nanny, remained in charge; she was devoted to them, and never minded being pulled and trodden on by the three fast-growing little bullies. All the cubs were females. Even at this age each had a definite character: the ‘Big One’ had a benevolent superiority and was generous towards the others; the second was a clown, always laughing and spanking her milk bottle with both her front paws as she drank, her eyes closed in bliss. I named her Lustica, which means the ‘Jolly One’.

  The third cub was the weakling in size, but the pluckiest in spirit. She pioneered all round, and was always sent by the others to reconnoitre when something looked suspicious to them. I called her Elsa, because she reminded me of someone of that name.

  In the natural course of events Elsa would probably have been the throw-out of the pride.* The average number of cubs in a litter is four, of which one usually dies soon after birth and another is often too weak to be reared. It is for this reason that one usually sees only two cubs with a lioness. Their mother looks after them till they are two years old. For the first year she provides their food; she regurgitates it, thus making it acceptable to them. During the second year the cubs are allowed to take part in the hunting, but they get severely disciplined if they lose their self-control. Since at this time they are unable to kill on their own, they have to rely for their food on what may be left over from a kill by the full-grown lions of the pride. Often very little remains for them, so they are usually in a bad, scruffy condition at this age. Sometimes they can’t bear the hunger; then either they break through the line of gorging adults and are likely to be killed, or they leave the pride, in small groups, and, because they do not yet know how to kill properly, often run into trouble. Nature’s law is harsh and lion have to learn the hard way from the beginning.

  The quartet – Pati and the three cubs – spent most of the day in the tent under my camp bed; this evidently seemed to them a safe place and the nearest thing they could find to their natural nursery. They were by nature house-trained and always took great care to reach the sand outside. There were a few accidents during the first days, but afterwards, on the rare occasions when a little pool disgraced their home, they miaowed and made comical grimaces of disgust. In every way they were wonderfully clean and had no smell except for a very pleasant one like honey – or was it cod-liver oil? Their tongues were already as rough as sandpaper; as they grew older we could feel them, even through our khaki clothes, when they licked us.

  When, after two weeks, we returned to Isiolo, our Royal Babies had a palace awaiting them, everyone came to see them and they received a royal welcome. They loved Europeans and especially small children, but had a marked dislike of Africans; the only exception was a young Somali, called Nuru. He was our garden boy; now we appointed him guardian and lion-keeper in chief. The post pleased him for it raised his social status; it also meant that when the cubs got tired of romping all over the house and its surroundings and preferred to sleep under some shady bush, he was able to sit near them for long hours, watching to see that no snakes or baboons molested them,

  For twelve weeks we kept them on a diet of unsweetened milk mixed with cod-liver oil, glucose, bone-meal and a little salt. Soon they showed us that they only required three-hourly feeds, and then gradually the intervals became longer.

  By now their eyes were fully opened, but they could not yet judge distances and often missed their target. To help them over this difficulty, we gave them rubber balls and old inner tubes to play with – the latter were perfect for tug-of-war games. Indeed, anything made of rubber, or that was soft and flexible, fascinated them. They would try to take the inner tube from each other, the attacker rolling sideways onto the possessor, pressing her weight between the end of the tube and its owner. If no success was achieved by this method, the rivals would simply pull with all their might. Then, when the battle had been won, the victor would parade with the trophy in front of the others and provoke an attack. If this invitation was ignored, the rubber would be placed in front of their noses, while the owner pretended to be unaware that it might be stolen from her.

  Surprise was the most important element in all their games. They stalked each other – and us – from the earliest age and knew by instinct how to do it properly.

  They always attacked from the rear; keeping under cover, they crouched, then crept slowly towards the unsuspecting victim until the final rush was made at flying speed and resulted in the attacker landing with all her weight on the back of her quarry, throwing it to the ground. When we were the object of such an attack we always pretended to be unaware of what was going on; obligingly we crouched down and looked the other way until the final onslaught took place. This delighted the cubs.

  Pati always wanted to be in the game, though, as the cubs were soon three times her size, she took good care to keep out of the way of heavy spankings and to avoid being squashed by her charges. In all other circumstances she retained her authority by sheer character; if the cubs became too aggressive she put them in their places by just turning round and facing them. I admired her spirit, for, small as she was, it needed a lot of courage to convince them of her fearlessness; the more so that her only d
efences were her sharp teeth, quick reactions, intelligence and pluck.

  She had come to us when she was newly born, and had entirely adapted her life to ours. Unlike her cousin the tree hyrax, she was not a nocturnal animal, and at night she would sleep round my neck like a fur. She was a vegetarian but had a craving for alcohol and for the strongest spirits at that; whenever the opportunity arose she would pull the bottle over, extract the cork and swig the liquor. As this was very bad for Pati’s health, not to mention her morale, we took every precaution to prevent any indulgence in whisky or gin.

  Her excretory habits were peculiar; rock hyraxes always use the same place, for preference the edge of a rock; at home Pati invariably perched herself on the rim of the lavatory seat, and thus situated presented a comical sight. On safari where no such refinements were provided for her, she was completely bewildered, so we had eventually to rig up a small lavatory for her.

  I never found a flea or a tick on her, so at first I was puzzled by her habit of constantly scratching herself. She had round toenails, like those of a miniature rhino, on her well-padded feet; four toes in front and three behind. On the inner toe of her hind legs there was a claw known as the grooming claw. With this she used to keep her fur sleek and her care for her coat explained her constant scratchings.

  Pati had no visible tail; she had a gland along the middle of her spine, which was visible as a white patch in her otherwise brindled-grey fur. This gland discharged a secretion and the hair around it used to rise when she became excited by pleasure or alarm. As the cubs grew larger her hair stood up all too frequently owing to the fear which their playful but rough antics caused her. Indeed, had she not always been quick to seek refuge on a windowsill, a ladder or some other high object, she would often have been in danger of being mistaken by them for a rubber ball. Until the cubs came Pati had always been number one among our pets. So I was very touched that she should continue to love the little rascals even though they diverted our visitors’ attention from herself.