Born Free Page 22

  Tracking on the far side of the river we eventually found the cubs’ pugmarks leading into a large group of rocks which we called the Border Rocks, as they were at the boundary of Elsa’s territory, but by then it was too dark to do anything except go home. When we returned next morning we found the fresh spoor of a lion and a lioness superimposed upon the cubs’ imprints. We were full of hope until we saw that the spoor led so far away that it was unlikely to have been made by Elsa. On our way home we observed a drop-spear trap close to the river. It was suspended from a tree which overhung the game path.

  The drop-spear trap is a deadly device consisting of a log about one foot in diameter and two feet in length; to the cross section which faces the ground is attached a poisoned harpoon. When the log is released it falls upon the animal passing below and its weight is sufficient to ensure that the harpoon penetrates the thickest hide.

  Next day we searched upstream on the far side of the river. Here, too, there were plenty of lion pugmarks – including those of a lioness with three cubs. They led us five miles from camp to a part of the bush which, so far as we knew, Elsa had never visited. As we approached a baobab tree, we heard the sound of startled animals bolting and the Toto caught a glimpse of the hindquarters of a lion and of three cubs which could have been Elsa’s. They were gone in a flash and though we called and called there was no response.

  George and I followed their tracks for some way, but we were puzzled; if they were Elsa’s family why had they rushed away from us? On the other hand, was it likely that there was another lioness about with three cubs of around the same size as Elsa’s? On our way back we found fresh spoor of a lion leading in the direction we had just come from.

  Next morning we returned to this place and within 500 yards saw some very recent spoor of a lion, a lioness and cubs. This led us up a dry watercourse, then towards some rocks, but before reaching them, the pride had abruptly turned back, run fast to the river and crossed it.

  The pugmarks on the far bank were still wet. It was plain that having heard us the pride had bolted. All we could be sure of was that they had scattered and run very fast.

  After two more hours’ tracking we found that the pride had reassembled in a sandy watercourse. We kept very quiet till we heard the agitated barking of baboons and simultaneously the roar of a lion. He was very close to us.

  His voice was familiar to us for we had often heard it at night. He sounded hoarse and the boys used to say that he must have malaria.

  George proceeded to stalk him and we came so close that I was nearly deafened by his next roar. Suddenly I caught sight of his hindquarters only thirty yards away and the boys actually saw his head and mane.

  It is most unusual for lion to roar at eleven in the morning. This one was evidently calling to a lioness, whom presently we heard replying from the direction of the barking baboons. Hoping it might be Elsa, we bypassed the hoarse lion and had a good look round, but saw nothing.

  Finally, tired and thirsty, we sat down and made tea. Here we discussed the two possible explanations of Elsa’s disappearance. Rather than stay in camp and risk being mauled by the ill-tempered lioness, she might have decided to share the hazards of the hoarse lion’s life, whose spoor might have been the one we found the previous day. That was an optimistic solution to the mystery; a pessimistic alternative was that Elsa had died of her septic ear and that the cubs had been adopted by a pair of wild lions.

  On our way back we saw flocks of vultures around the kitchen lugga and the boys went ahead to inspect the kill.

  I hung back dreading to learn what they had discovered, but soon they shouted that they had found the carcase of a lesser kudu, which had probably been killed during the night by wild dogs.

  We spent the next two days covering the boundaries of Elsa’s territory, partly on foot and partly by car.

  George left in the last week of July and I continued to look for Elsa, and the next morning, walking with Makedde along the car track towards the Big Rock, traced the spoor of a single lion who had evidently come towards the camp; I also saw the imprints of pointed shoes, which Makedde recognized as identical with those which he had recently seen near a poacher’s hideout. Both spoors were superimposed on the tyre marks of George’s car.

  Plainly the poachers were keeping an eye on our movements, and no doubt, having heard George’s car go off, had next morning come to reconnoitre. How disappointed they must have been to discover that I was still in residence.

  It was now over a fortnight since the fierce lioness had attacked Elsa and except for the occasion when the Game Scout had found her in the bush, she had not been seen, nor had there been any trace of the cubs.

  Feeling miserable, I asked Makedde whether he loved Elsa. He looked startled but replied warmly: ‘Where is she that I could love her?’ This made me even more depressed. Makedde, watching me, scolded more angrily: ‘You have nothing but death in your mind, you think of death, you speak of death and you behave as though there were no Mungo [God] who looks after everything. Can’t you trust him to look after Elsa?’

  Encouraged, I got up and went on with the search; but two days passed without bringing any result.

  On the evening of the sixteenth day since Elsa and the cubs had disappeared, after lighting the lamps I poured myself a drink and sat in the dark straining my ears for any hopeful sound. Then, suddenly, there was a swift movement, and I was nearly knocked off my chair by Elsa’s affectionate greeting. She looked thin but fit and the wound in her ear was healing from the outside, though the centre was still septic. Plainly she was very hungry for when the boys came towards us with the carcase I had asked for, she rushed at them. I yelled, ‘No, Elsa, no.’ She stopped, obediently returned to me and controlled herself until the meat had been attached to a chain in front of the tent, then she pounced on it and ate voraciously. She seemed to be in a great hurry, gorged herself on half the goat and then withdrew out of the lamplight and cunningly moved farther away till she finally disappeared in the direction of the studio.

  I was immensely relieved to know that she was well, but where were the cubs? Her visit had only lasted half an hour and I waited long into the night hoping that she might return with them to finish off the goat. As this did not happen, I eventually carried the remains into my car to save them from being eaten by predators, and went to bed.

  At dawn on 1 August I was woken by the miaowing of the cubs and saw them crawling close to my thorn enclosure. I called to the boys to bring the meat and joined Elsa who was watching her youngsters fighting over the meat.

  It was soon obvious that what remained of Elsa’s last night’s supper was not going to satisfy four hungry lions, so I ordered Makedde to kill another goat and managed to keep Elsa quiet while this was going on. Her self-control was astonishing, and only when the men dropped the carcase within ten yards of her did she get up and drag it into the bush near the river.

  Little Elsa and Gopa followed her, but Jespah was far too busy crunching bones to pay any heed to what was going on and only after he had been on his own for some time did he decide to join the family, and straddling what was left of the old kill he took it down to the river.

  I sat under a gardenia bush close by waiting my chance to introduce some medicine into Elsa’s meat, to help her septic ear heal. I was relieved, but puzzled, not to see a single new scratch on her or the cubs, though they must have hunted during all these days when they were absent from camp.

  The cubs growled, snarled and cuffed at each other for the best bits of meat. Living in the bush had certainly made them become more wild, for now they were constantly on the alert for suspicious sounds and nearly panicked when some baboons barked.

  The two little cubs were shyer than ever and were frightened if I made the least movement, but, to my surprise, Jespah came up to me, tilted his head on one side with a questioning look, licked my arm and plainly wished to remain friends.

  The sun was high, it was getting hot, and so when the cubs had eaten
all they could they had a splendid game in the shallows, ducking, wrestling, splashing and churning up the water till at last they collapsed in the shade on a rock, where Elsa joined them.

  As I watched them dozing contentedly with their paws dangling over the boulder I humbly remembered Makedde’s reprimand for my lack of faith – a happier family one could not wish to see.

  In order to try to discover what they had been up to during their long absence I had asked him to follow the spoor which Elsa had made when she had arrived in camp.

  Meanwhile, I dressed her wound while she was too sleepy to object to the treatment. When it got dark I went to the tents to hear Makedde’s report.

  He told me he had traced her to the limit of her territory and that there, on some rocky outcrops, he had found not only her pugmarks and those of the cubs, but also the spoor of at least one lion, if not two.

  This probably explained how she and the cubs had been fed and also accounted for her strange behaviour when she was surprised by the Game Scout and us, for her reactions were typical of a lioness in season.

  It may seem odd that this solution had not occurred to us but as Elsa was still suckling her cubs we had not expected her to be interested in a mate. We had accepted the general belief that wild lionesses only produce cubs every third year, because in the interval they are teaching the young of the last litter to hunt and become independent. Could Elsa have returned more quickly than we expected to breeding condition because of the food we had supplied? Certainly at seven and a half months the cubs could have survived on a meat diet and obviously she could not know that we were only staying on so as to treat her wounds and help her to get fit and able to teach her cubs hunting.

  19. Dangers of the Bush

  At about nine that evening Elsa and the cubs came from the river and settled themselves in front of my tent and demanded their supper. As the remains of the meat were still by the gardenia bush I called to Makedde and the Toto and asked them to come and help me drag it in. I collected a pressure lamp and we went down the narrow path which we had cut through the dense bush from the camp to the river.

  Makedde, armed with a stick and a hurricane lamp, went ahead, the Toto followed close behind, and carrying my bright lamp I brought up the rear. Silently we walked a few yards down the path. Then there was a terrific crash, out went Makedde’s lamp and a second later mine was smashed as a monstrous black mass hit me and knocked me over.

  The next thing I knew was that Elsa was licking me. As soon as I could collect myself I sat up and called to the boys. A feeble groan came from the Toto who was lying close to me holding his head, then he got up shakily, stammering, ‘Buffalo, buffalo.’ At this moment we heard Makedde’s voice coming from the direction of the kitchen; he was yelling that he was all right. As we pulled ourselves together the Toto told me that he had seen Makedde suddenly jump to the side of the path and hit out with his stick at a buffalo. The next moment the Toto had been knocked over and then I had been overrun. What had happened when Elsa and the buffalo met face to face none of us will ever know. Luckily the Toto had no worse injury than a bump on his head, caused by falling against a fallen palm trunk. I felt blood running down my arms and thighs and was in some pain, but I wanted to get home before examining my wounds. This incident certainly belied the popular belief that a lion however tame becomes savage at the scent or taste of blood.

  Elsa, who had obviously come to protect us from the buffalo, seemed to realize that we were hurt and was most gentle and affectionate.

  I had no doubt as to the identity of the buffalo, since for several weeks past we had seen the spoor of a bull buffalo, going from the studio through the river bush to the sandbank, where a triangular line of impressions marked his drinking place. After quenching his thirst he usually continued upstream.

  He had never come out for his drink till well after midnight.

  This evening he must have been unusually thirsty and arrived very early. Probably Elsa had heard him on the move and that was why she had brought the cubs into the camp at nine. When he saw us come down to the river with our lamps the buffalo had evidently been frightened and rushed up the nearest path to safety, only to find us blocking his way.

  I received several kicks which left their marks on my thighs and I could only feel very thankful that they had not landed on more vulnerable parts of my anatomy.

  Elsa came back with us to camp where we found the cubs waiting for her; how she had prevented them from following her puzzled me.

  I was worried about Makedde and went at once to the kitchen to see what condition he was in. There I found him, unhurt and having a splendid time, recounting to his awestruck friends his single-handed combat with the buffalo. I am afraid his heroic stature was slightly diminished by the appearance of my bleeding legs, but the main thing was that we were all safe.

  I spent a very uncomfortable night, for as well as my painful wounds all my glands began to swell and it was difficult to find a position in which I could relax, or to breathe without increasing the discomfort of my aching ribs.

  The next afternoon Elsa took great care to drag her kill a long way upstream and to straddle it across the river and then up a bank which was so steep it was unlikely that any beast would come after it. I wondered whether this unusual behaviour was due to her having been as frightened by the buffalo as I had been.

  By the beginning of August Elsa had become increasingly cooperative, but her son Jespah did not follow her example; every day he became more obstreperous. For instance, Elsa never interfered with our flock of goats, but Jespah now took much too much interest in them.

  One evening when Nuru was herding them towards my truck, he made a beeline for them, rushed through the kitchen, passed within a few inches of the devout Ibrahim, who was kneeling on his mat absorbed in his evening prayers, dodged between the water containers and round the open fire and arrived at the truck just as the goats were about to enter it.

  There was no doubt as to his intentions, so I ran and grabbed a stick, and holding it in front of him shouted, ‘No, no,’ in my most commanding voice.

  Jespah looked puzzled, sniffed the stick and began spanking it playfully, which gave Nuru time to lift the goats into the truck. Then Jespah walked back with me to Elsa who had been watching the game. Often she helped me to control him, either by adding a cuffing to my ‘noes’ or by placing herself between the two of us. But I wondered how long it would be before, even with her support, my commands and my sticks failed to have any effect. Jespah was so full of life, and curiosity and fun; he was a grand little wild lion, and a very fast-growing one too, and it was high time that we left him and his brother and sister to live a natural life. While I was thinking this, he was chasing after the other cubs, and in doing so tipped the water bowl over Elsa giving her a drenching. He got a clout for his pains and then she squashed him under her heavy, dripping body. It was a funny sight and we laughed but this was tactless and offended Elsa, who, after giving us a disapproving look, walked off followed by her two well-behaved cubs. Later she jumped on the roof of my Land Rover and I went to make friends again and apologize.

  The moon was full and in the sky the stars sparkled brilliantly, and Elsa, her great eyes nearly black owing to her widely dilated pupils, looked down at me with a serious expression as though saying: ‘You spoilt my lesson.’ For a long time I remained with her, stroking her soft silky head.

  Presently we heard the whinnying and grunts of two lovemaking rhinos coming from the salt lick. Elsa glanced alertly towards the cubs, but when she saw that they were entirely absorbed in their meal, she decided to pay no attention to the love-sick pair and presently we heard them crossing the river. George had rejoined me and had brought an anti-poaching team; one that operates throughout the Northern Frontier. The first thing he now wanted them to do was to find some man belonging to the tribe on the far side of the river, who, for a suitable reward, would supply information about the poachers. As soon as the team was established we had every
intention of leaving Elsa and her family to look after themselves. Her wounds were more or less healed and we wanted the lions to lead a natural life. But when the Scouts returned we found that we had to change our plans. They brought in some prisoners and an informer told George that the poachers had determined to kill Elsa with poisoned arrows as soon as we left the camp. He also said that after burning the camp three of the culprits had climbed Elsa’s big rock to hunt hyrax, but had given up when one of them got bitten by a snake.

  We realized that as the drought increased, so would the poachers’ activities, and however efficient the anti-poaching team might be, it would be impossible for them to prevent Elsa, if unfed by us, from hunting farther afield and risking an encounter with the tribesmen.

  Obviously, if we stayed on, the cubs’ education in wild life would be delayed and they would probably get spoilt, but it was better to face this than risk a tragedy.

  One evening the tsetse flies were particularly active and Elsa and her two sons rolled on their backs inside my tent trying to squash their tormentors. In doing so they knocked down two camp beds which were propped up against the wall. Elsa lay down on one of them and Jespah on the other, while Gopa had to be content with the groundsheet. The sight of two lions lolling in bed, while far from our ideal picture of Elsa’s family returned to a wild life, was comic enough. Only Little Elsa stayed outside: she was as wild as ever and nothing would induce her to enter the tent, so she at least appeased my conscience.

  One afternoon when we were on the riverbank with Elsa and her cubs, I had a good chance of examining her wounds, and I found that although I had given her plenty of sulphanilamide they had not yet healed. I took the opportunity also to examine her teeth and saw that two of her canines were broken.