Born Free Page 28
I joined her and tried, without success, to deal with her maggots. She was licking them, and I saw that she had seven swellings, but, as at times she had had as many as fifteen, I was not unduly alarmed.
After a while, the cubs went off to the bush and Elsa followed; in the afternoon they came back and began playing on the logs. Elsa was very impatient with her children, and eventually took refuge on the cabin roof of the lorry to escape their teasing. It would have been easy for them to follow her, but they preferred to make a wide detour whenever they passed the truck.
All that afternoon Elsa rested on the cabin roof, from which she watched her cubs and me. When I went for a short walk she did not follow me, and when I came back I found her still in the same position. After it got dark she came and lay in the grass in front of my tent, but made no attempt to hop on to the roof of the Land Rover as she usually did. I walked up to her, but was charged by Gopa and Jespah who had been resting nearby in the tall grass.
Early next morning I heard Elsa calling to the cubs in her soft moan, ‘Mhm, mhm, mhm’; it was a most comforting sound and always had a very soothing effect on me.
Soon they all disappeared in the direction of the studio lugga; in the afternoon I took a sketchbook and went there. Elsa welcomed me gently and affectionately, and even Gopa showed a sign of friendliness by tilting his head towards me. We spent another lovely afternoon, the cubs playing as I drew. I would have been completely happy but for the apprehension which nagged at me when I thought of the cruel move from which only a miracle could save us. I hoped that Elsa didn’t sense my wretchedness and anxiety; she was ill enough as it was with her maggot sores.
When she thought it was time for us to go home she gave us her usual signal by licking each of us in turn. I wondered how long she would be able to maintain the friendly relations which existed between the five of us. For how much longer would I be accepted as a member of the pride? If we succeeded in enabling the cubs to live natural wild lives this would in any case bring the relationship to an end. Our intimate life with the lions had only lasted as long as it had because the threat of attack by poachers had compelled us to stay with the family to protect them. On the other hand, if the lions were not removed to Lake Rudolf the possibility of their taking up a full wild life would be delayed or even become impracticable. This might be inevitable, but for them to be denied their natural life simply so that I should retain my position as part of the pride was too high a price to pay for my privilege.
Elsa was constantly licking her wounds; I hoped this would help to heal them quickly. That night she again stayed in the grass outside my tent and refused to eat. As I was watching her, Gopa came up to me and wished to make friends. This was unusual, and I wanted to respond, but, like Jespah, he had not learned to retract his claws when playing with human beings, so reluctantly I had to disappoint him. I squatted near him, looking him in the face, calling him by his name and hoping that he would understand that even if I would not play with him, all the same I loved him. Jespah brought this awkward situation to an end by bouncing on his brother. The manes of the two lions had grown a lot lately; Gopa’s was much darker and nearly twice the length of his brother’s; his growl was deep and sometimes threatening. In every way he was a powerful young lion.
Next afternoon I again found the family in the studio lugga. I had brought my sketchbook, but preferred to sit near Elsa and comfort her by stroking her head. She lay quite still and allowed me to pat her, but when I touched her back, or my hand came near one of her sores, she growled and made it very plain that she did not want me to interfere. Her nose was wet and cold; a sure sign that she was ill. Two of the wounds were festering and pus was oozing out of them. I hoped that this meant that they would drain. I still refrained from giving her sulphanilamide, so as not to weaken her natural resistance, and I was so convinced that the maggots were responsible for her condition that I never thought of taking a blood slide and having it analysed to see whether she had any other infection.
When it got dark, Elsa moved into the bush a few yards from the lugga, and when I left for camp she remained there with the cubs. After waiting for some time to see her appear, I became anxious and began to call her. To my relief she soon came up, walked slowly into my tent and gently licked me. Afterwards she went out into the dark and I did not see her or the cubs again that evening.
In the morning, I followed their spoor till I saw the lions on top of the Whuffing Rock. As I did not want to disturb them, I painted the rock from a distance until a cloudburst put an end to my efforts.
In the afternoon I returned and, through my field glasses, saw two cubs on the rock. There was no sign of Elsa and, assuming that she and Jespah, though hidden from my view, were close by, I called, but there was no response. The lions did not come to the camp that night. This was not unusual, but I felt worried on account of Elsa’s condition, so, at first light, I went to the rock. There I was relieved to see all the family on the ridge. I called to Elsa and she raised her head; the cubs didn’t move.
At teatime I went back with Nuru; Elsa at once came out of the bush below the rock, followed by Jespah. She greeted us affectionately, but I noticed that she was breathing heavily and that every movement seemed to require an effort. Jespah acted like a bodyguard and made it difficult for me to stroke her. I sat close to her till Gopa and Little Elsa joined us and then we all started for home. Elsa was very impatient with the cubs and evidently extremely sensitive to being touched. If one of her children brushed against her, she flattened her ears and growled. She did not, however, object to my walking beside her and flicking off the tsetse flies, but got really angry when one of the cubs tried to prod her. I had never before seen her react like this. She sat down repeatedly during the short distance through the bush to the car track, but after we reached the track the going was easier. When we got to the camp she went straight to the Land Rover and lay down on the roof very carefully to avoid putting pressure on her sores. She stayed in this position all through the evening. I brought her some marrow, a thing she loved, but she only looked at it and turned away, and when I tried to stroke her paws she moved them out of my reach.
I awoke to hear the cubs chasing each other round the tents, but there was no sign of Elsa. I waited for her familiar moan, but heard only Jespah’s high-pitched ‘tciang’. I saw him peep through the gate of the enclosure, and as I came out caught sight of Gopa standing on the river bank, about to cross to the far side. When he saw me he gave a startled whuff, plunged in and soon I heard the others greeting him.
Soon it would be four weeks since we had received the deportation order and it was already three since George had gone on his recce to Lake Rudolf. Before he left, we had planned to start the move on 20 January; today was the 19th; never once had the cubs entered the Thames lorry; the Bedford had not arrived, Elsa was ill, we had not yet found a new home for the cubs or a way of moving them. Plainly, we were going to be far behind our schedule.
25. Elsa’s Death
That evening George arrived, but his news was not good.
He and Ken Smith, driving two Land Rovers and a lorry, had first gone to Alia Bay, immediately north of the Longendoti Hills. Alia Bay was the place to which we had taken Elsa on the foot safari which I described in Born Free. From this range some secluded valleys run down to Lake Rudolf, and it was one of the areas in which George hoped that we might find a suitable home for Elsa and the cubs. Up to now no one had ever reached these valleys by motor, so the first need was to find a possible route.
George made a pretty comprehensive recce, and his opinion was that Moite offered the only hope, and this only if he could find or make a passable track to it and get permission to rent some land there.
Before returning to Isiolo, he discussed with the District Commissioner of Marsabit the possibility of leasing some land round Moite, and asked for his co-operation to build a sixty-mile road and clear the ground for an airstrip. The District Commissioner gave his consent. We, of course,
were to provide the necessary cash. Since the sum involved was considerable, George said he would wait to take a decision until he had discussed the matter with me.
This was the story of his recce.
The prospect of settling the lions near Lake Rudolf seemed very unsatisfactory to me. So I was much relieved that, in the mail which George had picked up on his way to camp, we found letters from the Rhodesias, Bechuanaland and South Africa in reply to our enquiries, all offering alternative possibilities.
Since we had no idea whether the ecological conditions in these areas would be suitable for our lions, George suggested that I should go at once to Nairobi and ask the advice of Major Ian Grimwood, our Chief Game Warden, who knew these localities well. If he should consider them unsuitable, then I would telegraph to the District Commissioner at Marsabit asking him to start work at once on the new road and the clearing of a site suitable for an airstrip. During my absence, George would train the cubs to feed in the Bedford, which was due to arrive, complete with wire enclosure, within a few days.
As there was so little time left, I agreed to go, provided that Elsa was well enough for me to leave her. That evening we did not see the lions, but heard them on the far side of the river. Early next morning we waded to the opposite bank and found the family a few yards from the water. Elsa broke through the dense undergrowth and rubbed herself affectionately against me. I scratched her on the head and behind the ears. Her coat was like velvet and her body hard and strong. I stroked her for a long time; then she greeted George and Nuru, and finally returned to the bush where her cubs were hiding.
George did not think she looked any worse than she had on earlier occasions when she had been infested with maggots, and this relieved my anxiety. However, as she had not eaten for two days, before I left, we placed meat on the river bank; while we did this Elsa watched us from the far side. As she made no attempt to come over and collect it, George floated it across; he had to put it right in front of her before she rose and, without eating anything herself, dragged it up the steep slope and into the thicket where the cubs were.
With this last picture of Elsa helping her children, I reluctantly left the camp for Nairobi; there I received a telegram from George: Elsa worse. Has high fever. Suggest bring aureomycin.
The message had been telephoned through from Isiolo by Ken, who had asked Major Grimwood to tell me that he had already sent the drug to George.
I was terribly worried, but since help was already on the way I decided, in view of the urgent need to make arrangements for the move, to stay one night in Nairobi.
Major Grimwood told me that in the homes offered in the Rhodesias and Bechuanaland the ecological conditions would not suit Elsa or the cubs, therefore he advised us to move the lions to Lake Rudolf. He also suggested that the wire enclosure in the lorry had better be partitioned, since, if we transported the family in a communal crate and one lion were to panic, it might hurt the others.
I telegraphed to the District Commissioner at Marsabit asking him to start on the work which George had discussed with him.
Next morning I got up early, as I had some urgent matters to attend to before leaving Nairobi. When I came downstairs I found Ken waiting for me. He looked tired and dusty, having just arrived from Isiolo with a message from George that Elsa was now desperately ill. George had sent an SOS at midnight, asking for me to return and for a vet to come at once. Ken had got in touch with John MacDonald, the vet at Isiolo, who had left immediately, then Ken had driven the 180 miles to Nairobi to give me George’s message. How grateful I was to him.
I chartered a plane and soon Ken and I were on our way to the small Somali village which was the nearest landing strip to the camp, at which we might be able to hire a car for the rest of our journey. We were lucky enough to find an old Land Rover and in it drove the last seventy miles.
We arrived at the camp about teatime, leaving the car some distance away so as not to alarm Elsa. I rushed to the studio. George was sitting there alone, and looked at me without saying anything. His expression told more than I could bear.
When I had recovered from the shock he took me to Elsa’s grave.
It was under a tree close to the tents, overlooking the river and the sandbank where Elsa had introduced me to her children. This was the tree on whose rough bark the cubs had learned to sharpen their claws and under the shade of which the family had so often played and where, last year, Elsa’s mate had tried unsuccessfully to get his Christmas dinner.
George told me all that had happened while I was away. This is what he said:
After you had left I moved my tent near to the ramp and waited for the family to appear, but that night they did not come. In the morning I was obliged to visit a game post higher up the river, so it was not until the afternoon that I was free to look for Elsa. I saw the cubs playing on the far bank, and then found Elsa lying under a bush a little farther up the river. She got up and greeted me and Makedde. The cubs came along and played around their mother.
I then went back to camp; that night again no lions appeared. Before breakfast I went to look for Elsa; she was lying alone near the place where I had left her the night before. She replied to my calls, but did not get up to greet me. Her breathing was laboured and she seemed to be in pain; she was obviously ill. I returned to camp and at once dispatched the Thames truck to Isiolo with the telegram to let you know that Elsa was worse and asking you to send aureomycin. I also sent a letter explaining the situation.
Then I went back to Elsa with water and a plate of meat and brains into which I had mixed sulphathiazole. She drank a little water but, even in spite of her liking for brains, did not eat anything. I then put some sulphathiazole into the water, but she refused it.
Later I went back and had lunch; afterwards I returned to Elsa and found that she had moved a little way and was lying in long grass. I felt very much alarmed, for she was steadily growing weaker; she would not look at food, and only drank a little water which I offered her in a basin.
To leave her alone for the night was unthinkable, for in her weak state she might have been attacked by hyenas, buffalo, or by a lioness. I therefore decided to spend the night with her, and got the boys to bring my bed over from the camp, also the remains of the goat and a pressure lamp. I spent the night in the bush and kept the lamp burning. The cubs came up from the stream and ate the goat; afterwards Jespah tried to pull the blankets off my bed. Elsa seemed to be a little better. Twice she came up to my bed and rubbed her head affectionately against me.
Once during the night I woke up and found the cubs on the alert looking intently behind my head. Next I heard a loud snort and flashed my torch and a buffalo crashed away into the bush. Elsa lay close to my bed. The cubs were in a playful mood and wanted their mother to join in their game, but every time they came near her she growled.
At dawn Elsa seemed fairly comfortable, so I went back to camp for breakfast and then did some typing.
About ten o’clock I began to feel anxious, and went to look for Elsa. I could not find her; there was no answer to my calls and no sign of the cubs. For two hours I searched up and down the river and at last I found her lying half in the water by a little island near the camp. She looked desperately ill, her breathing was very fast and she was extremely weak. I tried to give her water in my cupped hands but she could not swallow.
I stayed with her for an hour. Then Elsa suddenly made an immense effort and went up the steep bank on to the island, where she collapsed. I called Nuru and got him to cut a path to a place from which it was easy to cross the river. Then, I left Nuru in charge, and went back to camp and improvized a stretcher out of my camp bed and tent poles. When this was ready I carried it back to the island and laid it beside Elsa, hoping that, since she always liked lying on a bed, she might roll on to it. If she did this, I meant, with the help of the men, to carry her across the river to my tent. But Elsa did not attempt to get on to the bed. About three o’clock she suddenly rose to her feet and staggered
to the river. With my help she waded across it to the bank below the kitchen. She was completely exhausted by the effort and lay for a long time on the bank. At least now she was on our side of the river and close to the camp. The cubs appeared on the island, having no doubt followed their mother’s scent, but they seemed nervous of crossing over.
Stopping twice to rest, Elsa made her way to the sandbank below our tents.
I showed some meat to the cubs, who followed my progress along the other side of the river as I dragged their dinner to the sandbank. Jespah and Little Elsa swam across, but Gopa hesitated until he saw his brother and sister eating, then he ventured to swim over and was ambushed by Jespah as soon as he landed.
For the next two hours Elsa lay on the sandbank with Jespah close to her. Twice she got up and went to the water’s edge to drink, but she could not swallow. It was a pathetic sight. I tried pouring water from my cupped hands into her mouth but it just dribbled out again. When it got dark she walked up the narrow path and lay down at the place where my tent used to stand before I moved it up to the ramp.
I tried to give her a little milk and whisky by squirting it into her mouth with a syringe; she managed to swallow some of it. Then I covered her with a blanket and hoped she would not move. I was in despair, feeling sure that she would not last out the night, anxious to send a message to you and worried because the truck was very much overdue. I realized that the only hope of saving her was to get a vet as quickly as possible; on the other hand, I did not want to leave her in case she wandered off in the darkness, in which case it might have been impossible to find her.