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  We knew now by experience that this period lasted about four days. Unlike the conditions in our former camp, everything here was favourable to giving her an opportunity to go back to her natural life. The right moment seemed to have come, so we decided to withdraw tactfully for one week and leave her alone – we hoped in the company of a mate. We had to act quickly in order to avoid her seeing our departure.

  While we were packing, Elsa returned. We therefore arranged that while I looked after her George would break camp, drive the loaded cars a distance of about one mile, and send a message to me to join him when everything was ready.

  I took Elsa away from the camp to our tree. Would this be the last time we should see it together? She knew something was wrong; and though I tried to keep to our normal routine and had taken the typewriter along and made the familiar tickings to appease her suspicions, she was not reassured, nor could I type properly for my mind was too upset. Although we had prepared ourselves for this release and hoped it might give Elsa a happier future than she would have living in captivity, it was a different matter when it came to making the break, and actually to cut through our affection and leave her, possibly never to see her again. Elsa must have felt my emotion for she rubbed her silky head against me.

  The river flowed slowly in front of us, as it had flowed yesterday and it would flow tomorrow. A hornbill called, some dry leaves fell off the tree and were carried away by the water. Elsa was part of this life. She belonged to nature and not to man. We were ‘man’ and we loved her and she had been brought up to love us. Would she be able to forget all that had been familiar to her until this morning? Would she go and hunt when she was hungry? Or would she wait trustfully for our return, knowing that up to now we had never let her down? I had just given her a kiss to reassure her of my affection and to give her a feeling of security, but was it a kiss of betrayal? How could she know that it needed all the strength of my love for her to leave her now and give her back to nature – to let her learn to live alone until she might find her pride – her real pride?

  Nuru came, and called me away. He had brought some meat along and Elsa followed him trustfully into the reeds and started to eat – then we stole away.

  8. The Final Test

  We drove ten miles to another river, smaller but much deeper than the one we had left; here we intended to spend a week. Late in the afternoon George and I strolled along the bank; we walked quietly, our thoughts with Elsa. I realized acutely how much I had become dependent on her; how much I had for nearly three years lived the life of a lioness, shared her feelings, interests and reactions. We had lived so intimately together that being alone seemed unbearable. I felt desperately lonely with no Elsa walking at my side, rubbing her head against me and letting me feel her soft skin and warm body. There was of course the hope of seeing her again in one week’s time. How much that meant to me.

  The sun was sinking, and its warm light was reflected on the shiny fronds of the doum-palms, tinting their tops with a golden glow.

  Again I thought of Elsa – what a beautiful world she had been born into. Whatever losing her might mean to me, we must now try our utmost to give her back to this life and save her from a captive existence, in which she would be deprived of all that nature intended for her. Although, up to now, there was no record of a hand-reared lion being successfully liberated, we still hoped that Elsa would be able to adapt herself to wild life, to a life to which she had always been so close.

  At last, the week of anxiety ended and we went back to see how Elsa had stood up to the test.

  When we arrived at our former camp we looked at once for her pugmarks; there was no sign of them. I began to call. Soon afterwards we heard her familiar ‘hnk-hnk’ and saw her coming from the river trotting as fast as she could. Her welcome showed us that she had missed us as much as we had missed her and her rubbings and miaowings touched us deeply. We had brought her a buck, but she hardly glanced at it and continued her greetings. As soon as the great rejoicings were over I looked at her stomach: it was full. She must have eaten recently; this took a great load off my mind for it meant that she was now safe. She had proved that she could fend for herself and be independent of us, at least so far as food was concerned.

  While our tents were being pitched, I took her to the river and there we rested together. I was happy now and could relax, feeling that Elsa’s future was assured. She must have felt the same, for she laid her big soft paw on me and dozed off. I was awakened by her raising her head and looking at a bushbuck, whose reddish shape appeared through the foliage on the opposite bank. Elsa watched without interest while the antelope stepped slowly along, unaware of our presence. However happy Elsa might be at the moment I knew that her lack of interest in the buck was partly due to her full belly. What had she eaten? Some little vervet monkeys were watching us silently through the trees, but where were our noisy friends, the usually ever present baboons? Later on, my fears about her first kill were confirmed for we found tufts of baboon hair close to the drinking place, where they had so often teased Elsa.

  Now that our minds were at ease regarding Elsa’s future, we decided to enjoy her company for another short period and wait till an opportunity occurred of making the final break, in some way which would not be too painful. We took up our life where we had left it off. Although Elsa seldom let us out of her sight, we thought it a good omen that she continued to follow her hunting instinct and sometimes, when we were on our walks, deserted us for an hour.

  The country had become very dry and often the sky was lit up by grass fires. The short rains were due in the next two or three weeks and the parched ground was thirsty for the life-giving food. Tsetse flies were very active and poor Elsa found them most irritating, particularly just after sunrise and again before sunset. She would rush frantically through the low bush to brush them off or would fling her itching body on to the ground, her normally sleek coat standing on end.

  To make her more independent of our camp life, we took her out for the whole day and after an early morning walk of two or three hours, settled down in a shady place along the river. We picnicked and I took out my sketchbook. Elsa soon dozed off and I often used her as a pillow when I read or slept. George spent most of the time fishing and usually produced our lunch straight from the river. Elsa had to have the fish first, but after mouthing it for a short time she would pull a grimace of disgust and showed no further interest in the rest of George’s catch. Nuru and the gun bearer proved to be excellent chefs and roasted our meal as soon as it had been caught.

  Once we surprised a crocodile sunning itself on a rock; startled, it plunged into a narrow pool which was cut off by rapids at either end. The water was so clear and shallow that we could see the bottom, but we could see no sign of the ‘croc’ and we wondered where it could have got to. We settled down to our meal; Elsa relaxed on the water’s edge and I leant against her. Soon George got up to go on with his fishing; but first, to make sure that the croc was not still in the pool, he prodded along the bottom with a long stick; suddenly it was wrenched from his hand and a six foot croc, which had been hiding in the sand, slithered over the rapids and disappeared into another pool. It had bitten off the end of the tough stick. As Elsa had not noticed this incident, and as we did not wish to encourage her to hunt crocodile, we moved away.

  Shortly afterwards, a warthog came along for his noonday drink. Elsa stalked him carefully, then, helped by a bullet from George’s rifle, seized the pig by the throat and suffocated it. The encounter took place at a little distance from the river and, as I thought it would be more comfortable for Elsa to guard her kill in the shade by the water, I pointed to the pig and then to the river, several times, saying, ‘Maji, Elsa, maji, Elsa.’ She was familiar with the word maji, which I used when I wanted Nuru to fill her water bowl. Now it seemed that she perfectly understood this Swahili word for water, for she dragged her pig to the river. She played with the carcase in the water for nearly two hours, splashing and diving with it, a
nd thoroughly enjoying herself until she was quite exhausted. Finally she pulled the pig on to the opposite bank and disappeared with it into a thicket; there she guarded it until it was time for us to return to camp, then she seemed determined not to be left behind, for as soon as we got up to go, she dragged the kill back to our side. We cut it up before her and, having distributed the meat between Nuru and the gun bearer, set off with Elsa trotting good-naturedly behind us.

  From then on, every time Elsa made a kill near the river, she went to great pains to drag it down to the water and repeated the game she had had with the warthog. We were at a loss to account for this strange behaviour: perhaps she had accepted ‘Maji, Elsa’ as a good rule and as part of her education.

  These daily excursions brought all of us much closer together and even Nuru and the gun bearer felt so much at ease in Elsa’s presence that they did not bother to get up when she strolled over to them for a nose-rubbing or sat on them, in her playful way. Nor did they mind sharing the back of the Land Rover with her and when she dumped her 300 lb between their bony legs, they only laughed and petted her, while she licked their knees with her rough tongue.

  Once, when we were resting on the river bank with Elsa lying asleep between us, George noticed two black faces peering at us out of the undergrowth on the opposite bank. They were a couple of poachers armed with bows and poisoned arrows, who had chosen this spot to lie up and ambush game coming down to the water to drink.

  Immediately he gave the alarm and dashed across the river closely followed by Nuru and the gun bearer; Elsa, suddenly alerted and always ready for a bit of fun, joined in the chase. The poachers made good their escape, but I would give a lot to hear the tale they had to tell when they got back to their village about how ‘bwana game’ (George’s native name) was now employing lions to hunt poachers.

  Early one morning when we were out on our pre-breakfast walk, Elsa took the lead and with great determination headed in a set direction, towards a point at which we had heard much trumpeting of elephant during the night.

  Suddenly she stopped sniffing the wind and, with her head stretched out, went off at a fast trot, leaving us behind. A few moments later, in the far distance, we heard the faint call of a lion. She stayed away all that day. Late in the evening we heard her call a long way off mingled with that of another lion. During the night hyena were much in evidence and kept us awake with their inane laughter. At dawn, we followed Elsa’s spoor and soon found it leading away from camp and mixed up with the pugmarks of the other lion. The next day we found her spoor alone; on the fourth day of her absence, we tracked her across the river. We searched for her all that day until we found ourselves unexpectedly in the middle of a herd of elephant; then there was nothing to do but to run for it. Early on the fifth morning Elsa returned very hungry and ate until her belly was near to bursting point. After that, she retired to my camp bed and made it clear that she was not to be disturbed. Later I noticed two deep bites and several smaller claw marks on the curve of her hind legs; these I dressed as best I could. She responded affectionately, sucking my thumbs and holding me close. In the afternoon, she did not want to go for a walk and sat on the roof of the Land Rover until dark, then she disappeared into the night. Some two hours later we heard a lion’s roar in the distance and Elsa’s immediate reply. At first, the sound came from near the camp but gradually her voice faded away in the direction of the lion.

  The following morning, we decided that this was an opportune moment to leave her alone for another few days and moved camp so as not to handicap her association with the wild lion, who might take exception to our presence. We knew now that she was quite capable of looking after herself, which made this parting less painful than the first one, but I was worried about her bites, which looked as though they might turn septic.

  After a week we returned to our camping place and interrupted Elsa while she was stalking two waterbuck. It was early in the afternoon and very hot; poor thing, she must have been very hungry to be hunting so late in the day. She gave us a touching welcome and gorged herself on the meat we had brought her. I noticed a new bite on her elbow and her old wounds were badly in need of dressing. For the next three days she made up for her period of starvation.

  By now, Elsa’s fame had spread far and wide and a party of American sportsmen paid us a visit specially to film her. She entertained them royally and did everything she could to please them. She climbed a tree, played in the river, hugged me, joined us for tea and behaved in such a docile manner that none of our guests could believe that she was a full-grown lioness, who shortly before they arrived had been equally at ease in the company of wild lions.

  That night, we heard a lion call and Elsa promptly vanished into the darkness and was away for two days. During this time she returned for one brief visit to George’s tent. She was most affectionate and nearly broke his camp bed by sitting on top of him, as he lay asleep. After a short meal, she went off again. In the morning we followed her spoor which led us to a rocky ridge near the camp. After climbing to the top and looking unsuccessfully for her in all her favourite lying-up places, we nearly fell over her in a clump of thick bush. Obviously she had kept quiet in the hope that we should not see her. Yet, in spite of her obvious wish to be alone, she gave us her usual affectionate greeting and pretended to be very pleased to see us. We respected her feelings, and tactfully left her alone. Late that evening we heard the roar of a lion and the howling of his retinue of hyena up river. Soon Elsa’s voice sounded close to camp. Perhaps by now she had learned to keep away from her lord and master while he was at his kill and was waiting until he had his fill before making a closer acquaintance with him. Later she returned to George’s tent for a few moments, put her paw affectionately round him and moaned softly, as if to say to him: ‘You know that I love you, but I have a friend outside to whom I simply must go; I hope you will understand,’ then she was off again. Early next morning, we found the pugmarks of a big lion close to camp; obviously he had waited while Elsa went to George’s tent to explain the situation. She kept away for three days, returning each evening for a few minutes just to show us her affection but going off again without touching the meat which was ready for her. When she returned after such escapades she always seemed more affectionate than ever, as though she wished to make up for having neglected us.

  The rains had started and as usual they stimulated Elsa’s energy and playfulness. She just had to ambush us from any suitable cover. As among our pride I was her favourite ‘lioness’ she honoured me with most of her attentions, and so I was the one who usually found myself on the ground with Elsa’s soft, but heavy, body on top of me, holding me down until George released me. Although I knew it was only affection that singled me out for these privileges, I had to stop this practice as I was quite unable to get her off me without help. Soon she understood by the tone of my voice that the game was not popular and it was touching to see how she tried to control her pent-up energy so that, even when she was making a flying leap, she would control it at the last moment and reach me in a dignified manner.

  After the first downpour of rain the dry, grey thornbush changed within a few days into a garden of Eden. Every grain of sand seemed to give way to a seed bursting up from beneath. We walked along tracks of luxuriant sap-green growth; each bush a giant bouquet of white, pink or yellow blossom. But, however pleasing this transformation was to our senses, it only added to the anxieties of our walks, for now visibility was reduced to a few feet. There were rain pools everywhere and each was a concentration of freshly marked game tracks. Elsa took full advantage of these bush newsreels and would often leave us to go hunting. Sometimes, we watched her stalking waterbuck, which she drove towards us, at others, followed her tracks while she was in pursuit of bushbuck; when doing this she would cleverly cut in a straight line across their winding tracks. However, as in these days she was well fed and had a full stomach, she regarded such hunts more as a pastime than as serious work.

  One morni
ng, we were walking quietly along the river, intending to spend the day out; Elsa was with us, full of energy, and, judging by the twitching of her tail, was having a wonderful time. After walking for two hours we were looking for a place to have breakfast when, suddenly, I saw her stop abruptly, her ears cocked and her body tense with excitement. The next moment she was off, jumping noiselessly down the rocks which flank the river at this point; then she disappeared into the thick undergrowth below. Here the river is divided by several islets, each an impenetrable thicket of bush, fallen trees and debris. We had stopped to wait for the outcome of her stalk, when we heard, as I thought, the unmistakable sound of elephant trumpeting. Deep vibrations shook the air and I was convinced that there was more than one elephant in the thicket below. George disagreed, saying that the noise was made by a buffalo. I had heard countless buffalo making their various expressive bellows but none had ever made such a typical elephant sound. We waited for at least five minutes, hoping that Elsa would get bored with her big friends as, after a short time, she usually did. Then came a deep rumbling sound and before I realized what was happening George leapt down the rocks, saying that Elsa was in trouble. I followed, as fast as I could, but was brought to a halt by a fresh outburst of violent bellowings just ahead. I felt most uneasy as I penetrated the thick bush, imagining that at any moment the massive shape of an enraged elephant would break through and squash everything in its path. Instinctively the men and myself stopped and called to George not to go on, but nothing would deter him and he disappeared behind the green walls of creepers and trees. Now we heard an ear-splitting scream followed by urgent shouts from George: ‘Come, quick, quick!’ My heart turned to lead – an accident must have happened. As I stumbled as fast as I could through the thicket, terrible scenes flashed through my mind. But soon, thank God, I saw George’s sunburnt back through the foliage; he was standing upright, so all must be well.