Born Free Page 16

  The brief sight George had had of the two suckling cubs had not given him time to discover whether they were normal or not and of course he could not tell whether there might be others hidden from his view. So on the afternoon of 14 January, when Elsa was in camp feeding, he crept off to the Zom rocks, while I kept her company.

  For two days she had been constantly in this area, so we supposed that she had changed the place of the nursery.

  George climbed up to the top of the centre rock and inside a cleft saw three cubs; two were asleep, but the third was chewing at some sansevieria; it looked up at him but as its eyes were still blurred and bluish he did not think that it could focus well enough to see him.

  He took four photographs but did not expect to get good prints for the cleft in which the cubs lay was rather dark. While he was doing this the two cubs who had been sleeping woke up and crawled about. It seemed to him that they were perfectly healthy.

  When he came back to camp and told me the excellent news Elsa was still there and quite unsuspicious.

  At dusk we drove her near to the Zom rocks. But only after we had tactfully walked away and she was reassured by hearing our voices fading into the distance did she jump off the Land Rover and, presumably, rejoin the cubs.

  George now went back to Isiolo. The morning after he had left I heard Elsa’s mate calling from the other side of the river but I listened in vain for her reply. In the afternoon, however, she roared very loudly quite near to the camp and went on doing so until I joined her. She seemed overjoyed at seeing me and came back to camp with me, but ate very little and went off when it became dark.

  During the next two days she did not turn up, but her mate called to her repeatedly during both nights. On the third day, while I was having breakfast, I heard a terrific roaring coming from the direction of the river. I rushed down to it and saw Elsa standing in the water making as much noise as she could.

  She looked very exhausted and soon turned back and disappeared into the bush on the opposite bank. I was puzzled by her odd behaviour. At teatime she came into camp for a hurried meal and then disappeared. On the following day she did not come, but that night I was woken up by the sound of a large animal thumping at my truck. It stood just outside my thorn enclosure. At night we used it as a goats’ stable to protect them from predators. Evidently a lion was trying to get at the goats. I did not think it could be Elsa for she usually gave a characteristic low moan, so I suspected her mate.

  I listened intently but, believing that a wild lion was close, I did not make a sound. However, when the banging and rattling increased to such a pitch that I feared the car might be destroyed I flashed a torch. The only result was still heavier thumping.

  Suddenly I heard Elsa’s mate calling from across the river; this proved it must be she who was attacking the truck. She was plainly furious, but it was dark and I did not want to call the boys to let me out of my enclosure, particularly as I feared that her battering might induce her mate to come to help her. All I could do was to shout. ‘Elsa! No – No!’ I had little hope of being obeyed and was very surprised when she at once stopped her attack and soon left the camp.

  On the following afternoon – it was 2 February – while I was writing in the studio the Toto came running to tell me that Elsa was calling in a very strange voice from the other side of the river. I went upstream following the sound, till I broke through the undergrowth at a place close to camp, where in the dry season there is a fairly wide sandbank on our side and on the other a dry watercourse which drops abruptly into the river.

  Suddenly I stopped, unable to believe my eyes.

  There was Elsa standing on the sandbank within a few yards of me, one cub close to her, a second cub emerging from the water shaking itself dry and the third one still on the far bank, pacing to and fro and calling piteously. Elsa looked fixedly at me, her expression a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

  I remained absolutely still while she gave a gentle moan to her young, that sounded like ‘m – hm, m-hm’; then she walked up to the landing cub, licked it affectionately and turned back to the river to go to the youngster who was stranded on the far bank. The two cubs who had come across with her followed her immediately, swimming bravely through the deep water, and soon the family were reunited.

  Near to where they landed a fig tree grows out of some rocks, whose grey roots grip the stone like a net; Elsa rested in the shade, her golden coat showing up vividly against the dark green foliage and the silver-grey boulders. At first the cubs hid, but soon their curiosity got the better of their shyness. They began by peeping cautiously at me through the undergrowth and then came out into the open and stared inquisitively.

  Elsa ‘m – hm, m-hm’’d which reassured them and when they were quite at their ease they began to climb on to their mother’s back and tried to catch her switching tail. Rolling affectionately over her, exploring the rocks and squeezing their fat little tummies under the roots of the fig tree, they forgot all about me.

  After a while Elsa rose and went to the water’s edge intending to enter the river again; one cub was close to her and plainly meant to follow her.

  Unfortunately, at this moment the Toto, whom I had sent back to fetch Elsa’s food, arrived with it. Immediately she flattened her ears and remained immobile until the boy had dropped the meat and gone away. Then she swam quickly across followed by one cub, which, though it kept close to her, seemed to be unafraid of the water. When Elsa settled down to her meal, the plucky little fellow turned back and started to swim over on its own to join, or perhaps to help, the other two cubs.

  As soon as Elsa saw it swimming out of its depth, she plunged into the river, caught up with it, grabbed its head in her mouth and ducked it so thoroughly that I was quite worried about the little chap.

  When she had given it a lesson not to be too venturesome, she retrieved it and brought it, dangling out of her mouth, to our bank.

  By this time a second cub plucked up courage and swam across, its tiny head just visible above the rippling water, but the third staying on the far bank looking frightened.

  Elsa came up to me and began rolling on her back and showing her affection for me; it seemed that she wanted to prove to her cubs that I was part of the pride and could be trusted.

  Reassured, the two cubs crept cautiously closer and closer, their large expressive eyes watching Elsa’s every movement and mine, till they were within three feet of me. I found it difficult to restrain an impulse to lean forward and touch them, but I remembered the warning a zoologist had given me: never touch cubs unless they take the initiative, and this three-foot limit seemed to be an invisible boundary which they felt that they must not cross.

  While all this was happening the third cub kept up a pathetic miaowing from the far bank, appealing for help.

  Elsa watched it for a time, then she walked to the water’s edge, at the point at which the river is narrowest. With the two brave cubs cuddling beside her she called to the timid one to join them. But its only response was to pace nervously up and down; it was too frightened to try to cross.

  When Elsa saw it so distressed she went to its rescue accompanied by the two bold ones who seemed to enjoy swimming.

  Soon they were all on the opposite side again where they had a wonderful time climbing up the steep bank of a sand lugga, which runs into the river, rolling down it, landing on each other’s backs and balancing on the trunk of a fallen doum-palm.

  Elsa licked them affectionately, talked to them in her soft moaning voice, never let them out of her sight and whenever one ventured too far off for her liking, went after the explorer and brought it back.

  I watched them for about an hour and then called Elsa who replied in her usual voice, which was quite different from the one she used when talking to the cubs.

  She came down to the water’s edge, waited till all her family were at her feet and started to swim across. This time all three cubs came with her.

  As soon as they had landed she li
cked each one in turn and then, instead of charging up to me as she usually does when coming out of the river, she walked up slowly, rubbed herself gently against me, rolled in the sand, licked my face and finally hugged me. I was very much moved by her obvious wish to show her cubs that we were friends. They reached us from a distance, interested, but puzzled and determined to stay out of reach.

  Next Elsa and the cubs went to the carcase, which she started eating, while the youngsters licked the skin and tore at it, somersaulted over it and became very excited. It was probably their first encounter with a kill.

  The evidence suggested that they were six weeks and two days old. They were in excellent condition and though they still had a bluish film over their eyes they could see perfectly. Their coats had fewer spots than Elsa’s or her sisters’, and were also much less thick than theirs had been at the same age, but far finer and more shiny. I could not tell their sex, but I noticed immediately that the cub with the lightest coat was much livelier and more inquisitive than the other two and especially devoted to its mother. It always cuddled close up to her, if possible under her chin, and embraced her with its little paws. Elsa was very gentle and patient with her family and allowed them to crawl all over her and chew her ears and tail.

  Gradually she moved closer to me and seemed to be inviting me to join in their game. But when I wriggled my fingers in the sand the cubs, though they cocked their round foxy faces, kept their distance.

  When it got dark Elsa listened attentively and then took the cubs some yards into the bush. A few moments later I heard the sound of suckling.

  I returned to camp and when I arrived it was wonderful to find Elsa and the cubs waiting for me about ten yards from the tent.

  I patted her and she licked my hand. Then I called the Toto and together we brought the remains of the carcase up from the river. Elsa watched us and it seemed to me that she was pleased that we were relieving her of the task of pulling the heavy load. But, when we came within twenty yards of her, she suddenly rushed at us with flattened ears. I told the boy to drop the meat and remain still and I began to drag it near to the cubs. When she saw that I was handling the kill alone, Elsa was reassured and as soon as I deposited it she started eating. After watching her for a while, I went to my tent and was surprised to see her following me. She flung herself on the ground and called to the cubs to come and join me. But they remained outside miaowing; soon she went back to them and so did I.

  We all sat together on the grass, Elsa leaning against me while she suckled her family.

  Suddenly two of the cubs started quarrelling over a teat. Elsa reacted by rolling into a position which gave them better access. In doing so she came to rest against me and hugged me with one paw, including me in her family.

  The evening was very peaceful, the moon rose slowly and the doum-palms were silhouetted against the light; there was not a sound except for the suckling of the cubs.

  So many people had warned me that after Elsa’s cubs had been born she would probably turn into a fierce and dangerous mother defending her young, yet here she was trusting and as affectionate as ever, and wanting me to share her happiness. I felt very humble.

  13. The Cubs Meet Friends

  When I woke up next morning there was no sign of Elsa or the cubs, and as it had rained during the night all spoor had been washed away.

  About teatime she turned up alone, very hungry; I held her meat while she chewed it so as to keep her attention and meanwhile told the Toto to follow her fresh pugmarks to get a clue to the present whereabouts of the cubs.

  When he returned Elsa hopped on to the roof of my car, and from this platform she watched the two of us walking back along her tracks into the bush.

  I did this deliberately to induce her to return to the cubs. When she realized where we were going she promptly followed us, and, taking the lead, trotted quickly along her pugmarks; several times she waited till, panting, we caught up with her. I wondered whether at last she meant to take us to her lie-up. When we reached the ‘Whuffing Rock’, so named because it was there that we had once surprised her with her mate and had been startled by their alarming whuffing, she stopped, listened, climbed swiftly halfway up the slope, hesitated until I had caught up with her and then rushed ahead till she had reached the saddle of the rock from which the big cleft breaks off on the far side. There, much out of breath, I joined her. I was about to pat her when she flattened her ears, and with an angry snarl gave me a heavy clout. Since it was plain that I was not wanted, I retreated. When I had gone halfway down the face of the rock I looked back and saw Elsa playing with one cub, while another was emerging from the cleft.

  I was puzzled at the sudden change in her behaviour, but I respected her wishes and left her and her family alone. I joined the Toto who had waited in the bush just below and we watched Elsa through our field glasses. As soon as she saw that we were at a safe distance she relaxed and the cubs came out and began playing with her.

  One cub was certainly much more attached to her than the others; it often sat between her front paws and rubbed its head against her chin, while the two others busily investigated their surroundings.

  George returned on 4 February and was delighted to hear the good news of the cubs; in the afternoon we walked towards the Whuffing Rock hoping that he too might see them.

  On our way we heard the agitated barking of baboons. We thought it very likely that Elsa’s presence was the cause of the commotion, so, as we approached the river, we called out to her. She appeared immediately, but though she was very friendly she was obviously upset and rushed nervously backwards and forwards between us and the bush, which grew along the river’s edge. She seemed to be doing her best to prevent us from reaching the water.

  We assumed that her cubs were there and were surprised that she should try to prevent George from seeing them. In the end she led us back to the camp by a wide detour.

  Two days later we saw her near the Whuffing Rock. As we were walking towards it we talked rather loudly to give her notice of our approach. She emerged from the thick undergrowth at the mouth of the cleft and stood very still, gazing at us. After a few moments she sat down facing us – we were still some two hundred yards away – and made it very plain that we were not to come any nearer. Several times she turned her head towards the cleft and listened attentively, but apart from this she remained in her ‘guarding’ position.

  We now realized that she made a difference between bringing the cubs to see us and our visiting them.

  Two weeks passed before she brought the cubs to camp to introduce them to George. This was not entirely her fault for during this time we were obliged to go to Isiolo for a couple of days and while we were away she and the cubs had arrived at the camp one morning looking for us, but had only found the boys.

  Makedde told us that he had gone to meet her and she had rubbed her head against his legs and one plucky cub had boldly walked up to within a short distance of him.

  However, when he squatted and tried to pat it, it had snarled and run off to join the others who were hiding some distance away. They had stayed in camp till lunchtime and then left. Elsa returned alone during the afternoon asking for meat, but the goat carcase was by then very high and she left in disgust after dark.

  I arrived about an hour after she had gone. Makedde was delighted with the plucky cub; he said he was sure it was a male and told me he had given it a name, which was, he said, very popular with the Meru tribe. It sounded like Jespah. I asked him and the other boys where the name came from. They said it was out of the Bible, but as each boy pronounced it slightly differently it was difficult for me to trace it. The nearest phonetic association I could find was Japhtah, which means ‘God sets free’. If that were the origin of the little cub’s name it could not be more appropriate. Later, when we knew that the family consisted of two lions and a lioness, we called Jespah’s brother, who was very timid, Gopa, for in Swahili this means timid, and his sister we named Little Elsa.

 
The next day Elsa arrived in the afternoon; she was extremely pleased to see me and very hungry. After a while I went for a walk hoping that in my absence she would return to her cubs, and when I came back she had gone.

  The following morning it was drizzling. I woke up to hear Elsa’s typical cub moan coming from across the river; I jumped out of bed and was just in time to see her crossing the river with her cubs, Jespah close to her and the other two some way behind.

  She walked slowly up to me, licked me and sat down next to me. Then she called repeatedly to the cubs. Jespah ventured fairly near to me, but the others kept their distance. I collected some meat which Elsa promptly dragged into a nearby bush; she and the cubs spent the next two hours eating it, while I sat on a sandbank watching them.

  While they ate Elsa talked continuously to the cubs in a series of low moans. They often suckled, but also chewed at the meat. Elsa did not regurgitate any meat for them, though considering the vast amount that she had eaten lately when she came alone to the camp it seemed likely that she might have regurgitated some of the meat later in the day for the benefit of the cubs. But this is speculation. We never saw her doing it.

  The cubs were now about nine weeks old and for the first time I was able to confirm Makedde’s belief that Jespah was a lion.

  After a while I went off to have breakfast and soon afterwards saw Elsa leading the cubs in a wide circle to the car track. I followed slowly hoping to take some photographs but she stopped suddenly broadside across the road and flattened her ears. I accepted the reproof and went back, turned to have a last look at them and saw the cubs bouncing along behind their mother going in the direction of the Big Rock. By now they were lively walkers, chasing and prodding one another as they tried to keep pace with Elsa. In spite of their high spirits they were most obedient to her call, and were also already well trained in cleanliness and always stepped off the path when they were producing their excrements.