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  Meanwhile we would concentrate our efforts on training her to kill her food and thus to become independent of us. Also, once she could kill, she would be a more suitable partner for a lion, should she decide to join one. The plains were still under water and most of the game had concentrated on the few bits of slightly higher ground which were drier. Elsa loved one little hillock which was studded with rocks, and we therefore chose this place as her experimental headquarters. It was unfortunately only eight miles from our camp; it would have been better if we could have moved off to a greater distance but, under the existing weather conditions, this was not practicable.

  We left Elsa for a week on her hillock but, when we returned, she looked so unhappy that it needed all my willpower to harden myself sufficiently to carry on with her education. We sat with her during the midday lull until she dozed off with her head on my lap. Suddenly, in the bush, just behind us, there was a frightening crash and a rhino appeared. We both jumped up like lightning, and while I ran behind a tree, Elsa gallantly charged the intruder and drove it away. Most unfairly, during her absence we deserted her again.

  Late that afternoon the atmosphere became heavy with moisture and the setting sun was spectacularly reflected against dark red curtains of cloud hanging out of a grey sky pierced by fragments of parallel rainbows. This kaleidoscope of luminous colour changed rapidly into threatening dark clouds loaded with rain which finally towered above us in one black mass. All was in suspense waiting for the firmament to burst.

  Then a few heavy drops fell like lead to the ground and now, as if two giant hands had torn the heavens apart, a deluge descended with such torrential force that soon our camp was in the middle of a running stream. For hours the flood continued. I imagined poor Elsa alone in this icy night, drenched, shivering and miserable; thunder and lightning added to my nightmare. Next morning we waded the eight miles to the ridge where we had left her. As usual, she was waiting for us, overjoyed to see us and greeted us each in turn by rubbing her head and body against us repeatedly, uttering her moaning noise. But today, there was no doubt that she was miserable, indeed she was nearly crying. We decided that, though it would interrupt her education, we could not leave her out in such weather. Unlike the local lions used to this climate, she came from semi-desert country and could not quickly adapt herself to very different conditions. Now she was pleased to walk back with us splashing in her familiar Isiolo way through the swamp and showing how happy she was.

  Next day she was ill. When she moved she was in great pain, her glands were swollen and she had a temperature. We made her a bed of grass in the annexe to George’s tent and there she lay, panting, listless and pathetic. I treated her with M and B, the only drug which I thought might help. She wanted me to be near her all the time, which, of course, I was.

  The rains had now set in, even a car with a four-wheel drive could not plough through to the nearest place at which blood slides could be tested, so we sent a runner the hundred-odd miles with various samples. The reply, when it came, stated that Elsa was infected with hookworm and tapeworm from both of which she had previously suffered and which we knew how to treat. But neither of these troubles could account for her swollen glands or her temperature. We believed that she had also become infected by some tick-borne virus. If this proved true it would suggest that an animal, immune to diseases in its own environment, when transferred to another, does not carry the same immunity to local strains, and might be one explanation for the often puzzling distribution of animals found in East Africa.

  Elsa became so ill that for a time we did not think that she would recover. However, after a week the fever became intermittent, every three or four days her temperature would rise and then go back again to normal. She was rapidly losing her beautiful golden colour, her coat was dull, like cotton wool, and she developed many white hairs on her back. Her face became ash grey. She had difficulty in dragging herself from the tent into the sparse sunshine; the only hopeful sign was her appetite. We gave her as much meat and milk as she wanted although both had to be fetched from a long distance. We also succeeded in spite of the transport difficulties arising from the weather in corresponding regularly with the Veterinary Laboratory in Nairobi, but as no sign of a parasite was found in the samples we provided we had to treat her more or less by guesswork.

  We dosed her for hookworm and for Rickettsia, a tick-borne parasite, which had been suggested as a possible cause for her illness, but as it was impossible to insert a hypodermic needle into a gland in order to obtain the fluid from which her illness might have been diagnosed, all we could do was to keep her as quiet as possible and give her the affection she needed. She was very gentle and responsive to all we did for her and often hugged me with her paws when I rested my head on her shoulders.

  During her illness, because she lived so intimately with us, Elsa became more dependent on us and tamer than ever. Most of the day, she lay across the entrance to our thorn-fence enclosure, in a strategic position, which enabled her to watch everything that went on inside the camp and outside on the plain as well. At meal times she preferred to have the boys step over her as they brought in our food than to move from her place. The staff laughingly competed at running the gauntlet while balancing full soup plates, getting spanked by Elsa in a friendly way as they passed over her.

  She slept in the tent with George but was free to come and go as she pleased. Late one night, he was awakened by her low calls and heard her trying to get out of the back of the tent. He sat up and saw a shape in the doorway of the tent. Thinking that Elsa could not have got around so quickly he switched on his torch and saw a wild lioness blinking in the glare. He shouted at her and she went off. No doubt she had scented Elsa and, reassured by the lion noises coming from inside the tent, had decided to investigate.

  It was now five weeks since Elsa’s illness had started, and her condition had only improved slightly. It was plain that the climate in this region was against her, also that she might not be immune from local infections such as ticks and tsetse, which vary according to localities. Besides this she was different in appearance from the local lions – much darker in colour, with a longer nose, bigger ears and generally much larger. In every way she belonged to the semi-desert and not to the highlands.* Finally, being in a game reserve meant that not only did George have to go twenty miles by car to get outside the reserve to shoot meat for her, but also that he could not take her hunting with him and thereby give her the opportunity of being in at the kill and getting the feel of pulling down a live animal – an experience which, in her wild state, she would have gained from her mother. It was evident therefore that after having camped here for three months we must try to choose a better home for her.

  It was not easy to find an area which had a suitable climate, permanent water, enough game to supply her with food, and no tribesmen or hunting parties; moreover, it needed to be accessible by car. Eventually we discovered such a paradise and received the government’s permission to release a lion there. As soon as the rains ceased we decided to go there.

  Camp was struck, and everything loaded into the cars, except Elsa. She chose that very day to come into season and had disappeared into the bush. We had waited for two and a half months for just this to happen, but we knew now that we could not allow her to go wild in this area. During the day there was no sign of her. We hunted for her everywhere, in the Land Rover and on foot, but without success; finally we became very worried in case she might have been killed by a wild lioness. However, there was nothing to do but wait for her return. For two days and nights she kept away, except for one short visit during which she rushed up to us, rubbed her head against our knees and dashed off again, only to come back a few minutes later, indulge in some more rubbings, then make off a second time and as quickly return, as though to tell us: ‘I am very happy, but please understand I must go. I just came to tell you not to worry.’ Then she was off again.* When she finally returned, for good, she was badly scratched and bleeding from
several claw marks and was very irritable when I tried to dress her wounds. It needed much patience to make her jump into the truck.

  Thus ended the first three months of our experiment. We had failed this time owing to her illness but felt confident that given time and patience we would succeed.

  7. The Second Release

  Now we had before us a journey of about 440 miles. On some trips everything seems to go wrong, and this was one of them. After only twelve miles, one of the front bearings went on George’s car. I drove to the nearest Administrative Post, which was ninety miles away, to get a new one sent out. I had to spend the night there with poor Elsa locked up in the back of my car. Meanwhile, when the bearing reached George he found that he had no spanner large enough to fit, but by using a hammer and a cold chisel he finally managed to get it fixed by the evening, and joined me. During that night and the following morning we had six punctures; finally at nine in the evening, when we were still twelve miles short of our destination, my car began to make the most alarming noise. So we stopped and put up our camp beds in the open. We were all completely exhausted after fifty-two hours of continuous driving. Elsa had behaved splendidly and had never made a protest; now she just flung herself down beside us and went to sleep. Next morning, we thought that we might have great difficulty in persuading her to re-enter the car, particularly as she had already gone off to lie up for the day in the dense reeds growing by a little stream near our camp. Crossing the stream was going to be difficult, so we decided to get the cars across first, and then collect Elsa.

  The Land Rover went through without trouble, but my car got stuck and had to be towed out. We then re-crossed the stream on foot to try and persuade Elsa to leave her shady retreat and follow us back to the cars. She came at once and jumped in my car, as though she knew that the journey was not yet at an end and wished to co-operate. We started off along a rough track through thick bush. Even now our troubles were not over; and after a few miles a rear spring in my car broke, so it was late in the afternoon when we reached Elsa’s new home.

  It was truly a corner of Africa where ‘the foxes say good night to each other’. To reach an ideal camp site, George and the boys cut a new track, through thick bush; it took them four days. Our final camp was on a beautiful river lined by walls of doum-palms, acacias and fig trees, interwoven with creepers. The water rushed foaming and bubbling through rapids, passed between islands covered with reeds, and in the farther reaches calmed into many rock-bound pools of cool clear water, deep enough to hold many fish. It was a fisherman’s paradise and George could not wait to set out his rod.

  The country was quite different from the region we had left. It was much hotter; there were no great herds of game grazing peacefully on grassy plains; only thornbush, with visibility reduced to a few yards – a hunter’s nightmare. But it was only thirty-five miles from Elsa’s birthplace and was the type of country that was natural to her.

  When we left the lush tropical greenery, which was confined to the river banks, we felt the intense heat of the sun hitting us like a hot wave. We were within a short distance of the equator; our altimeter read 1,600 feet. The dense dry thornbush was only penetrable by a network of game paths; these were also useful in warning us of elephant, rhino and buffalo whose spoor and droppings left no doubt that the paths were in daily use. About 200 yards from the camp there was a salt lick and many impressions of rhino horns and elephant tusks in the salt told us that they were frequent visitors to it; also nearly every tree of any size had its bark polished or worn off by elephants rubbing their bodies against it. Because of this Elsa found it difficult to do her daily claw exercises, as there were few trees left with any rough bark. Only the baobabs; their giant purple-grey shapes towering over the low thornbush were untouched, for their smooth trunks were of no use to animals.

  The great attraction of the place was a huge ridge of reddish rock with cliffs and caves, in whose shadows we saw hyrax dashing about. It was an ideal lion’s home, with a splendid lookout. From its top, we watched giraffe, waterbuck, lesser kudu, gerenuk and bushbuck moving towards the river which was their life artery in this otherwise waterless semi-desert country.

  Either as a result of our Rickettsia treatment or owing to the change in climate, Elsa’s condition improved daily, so we were able to re-start her education. Every morning, as soon as it got light, we took Elsa for a walk, and did so again in the afternoon. These walks, which took us along the numerous game paths and sandy watercourses, were full of interest. Elsa loved them; she sniffed and followed the spoor of animals which had been there during the previous night, rolled in elephant and rhino droppings and chased warthog and dik-dik. We, too, were on the alert, taking note of animal tracks, their freshness and direction, which way the wind was blowing, and kept ears and eyes open for tell-tale sounds and sights. This was necessary because otherwise one was apt to run unexpectedly into rhino, buffalo or elephant, and it is these surprise meetings at close quarters which can lead to trouble.

  Here, unlike the first place to which we had taken her, Elsa was able to go out hunting with George. We both hate killing animals, but now we had to make some sacrifices to Elsa’s education, and the knowledge that in her natural state she would have been killing them on her own account appeased our qualms. The sooner she learned to do it properly, the better for all concerned. For the present she must stalk her quarry, then, if she were not able to kill, George would bring the animal down with a bullet and leave her to give the coup de grâce. After this she would be left to protect her kill against vultures, hyenas and lions, and in this way would meet these animals in natural circumstances.

  We heard several lion close to the camp and often saw their pugmarks.

  One evening Elsa did not come back from her favourite lookout on top of the rocks. It was a splendid place where she found the breeze cool, where no tsetse fly molested her and from which she could watch the animals below. But as we had only been a short time in the area, we were worried at her absence and went out to look for her. By then it was well after dark, the bush was alive with dangerous animals, and we found creeping through the dense scrub nerve-racking. There was no sign of Elsa, so, defeated, we returned.

  At dawn we resumed our search, and soon found her pugmarks mixed up with those of a large lion; the spoors led down to the river and reappeared on the far side. Here there were outcrops of rock, and we thought that perhaps the lion had his domain there and had taken Elsa to his lay-up.

  About lunch-time a wild chatter started up among the baboons near the camp; we hoped that this might herald Elsa’s return and, sure enough, soon she came, swimming across the river. She greeted us, rubbing her head against us in turn and talking to us excitedly about her adventures. We were glad not to find any scratches on her. Since it was only a fortnight since she had been badly treated by a lion when we were still at our former camp, we hoped that the fact that her new escapade had been voluntary was a good augury for her release.

  One morning a waterbuck offered an excellent opportunity for initiating Elsa into killing. George shot it, but before it fell Elsa jumped at its throat and hung on like a bulldog until in a few minutes the animal died of suffocation. It was her first experience of killing a large animal of about her own weight. We now saw that she knew the vital spot by instinct and also the way of effecting a quick death, in fact she had made use of a lion’s normal method of killing a prey, which is not as some people imagine by breaking its neck. She first ate the tail, and this, as we were to discover, became her normal practice; then she opened the animal between the hind legs, ate the guts and carefully buried the stomach, covering up all traces of blood. Might this be a way of deceiving the vultures? Then she seized the buck by the neck, and straddling it between her forepaws, dragged it into a strategically well-chosen spot, in this case a shady thicket some fifty yards away. We left her there to guard her kill by day from vultures, and, after dark, from hyena. One frequently hears stories of lion carrying their victims away
by swinging them across their backs. Neither George nor I have ever seen a lion act in this way; though it is true that they will carry a small animal such as a dog or a hare in their mouths. We have always seen them drag anything larger in the way which Elsa used on this and all other occasions.

  About teatime we went back to visit her, and brought her water. Although she loved her afternoon walk with us, this time she made no attempt to leave her kill. When it became dark she did not return, but about three a.m. we were awakened by a heavy cloudburst and soon after this she appeared and spent the rest of the night in camp.

  Early in the morning we all went out to see what had happened to her kill. Of course it had disappeared, and the ground was patterned with lion and hyena spoor. Nearby, we heard some lion grunts; these made us wonder whether it was the rain or the lions which had made Elsa leave her kill during the night.

  Although Elsa’s health had greatly improved, she was still far from her usual self and preferred to spend most of her day in camp. In order to break this habit and to make her lie up in the cool shade of the river, George took her out fishing with him. She would watch intently for the slightest ripple in the water and as soon as he hooked a fish she plunged into the river to give the wriggling creature the coup de grâce and retrieve it. Sometimes we had great difficulty in removing the hook before she dashed off to camp with the fish; once there, she usually placed the fish on George’s bed, as if to say: ‘This cold, strange kill is yours’, and then she would return to await the next catch. This new game was great fun, but we needed to find another device to attract her away from the camp.

  Close to the river stood a magnificent tree, its branches nearly sweeping the water. Under its green canopy, protected by its cool shade and subdued light from the glaring sun, I felt as though I were under a dome. Here, concealed by the low branches, I watched many wild creatures, lesser kudu and bushbuck, which came to the river to drink, a hammer-headed stork also came to quench his thirst and there were baboons; they provided the real fun. Sitting there with Elsa close to me, I felt as though I were on the doorstep of paradise; man and beast in trusting harmony; the slow-flowing river adding to the idyll. I thought that this place would make a stimulating ‘studio’ for me to paint or write in, so we nailed some chop-boxes across a wooden frame and improvised a table and bench, and soon I began to work there, leaning against the broad trunk of the tree.