We're All Going on a Lion Hunt

Photo of the week

Highlight of the week:  A week of luxury - safari drives, animals, sleep out, "it gets better every day"

Lowlight of the week: The tseste flies find me to be a bit too tasty

Maximum temperature: A ridiculous 42 degrees Celsius

Rainfall: Nope

Rock paper scissors. Every ten year old’s impossible struggle for primacy. The paper wraps the rock. The rock blunts the scissors. The scissors cut the paper. No one can be sure to have the upper hand.

In the African bush we imagine that authority sits with the apex predator. The king of the jungle is secure. But wait. The reality is not so clear cut. Last year we witnessed an apparently even stand-off: A massive, 20 strong pride of lion is confronted by 4 sturdy elephants. Is that fear that we see in the eyes of the lions? Not pride? The 5 tonne elephants trumpet and play the trump card. The lions cower behind our car. We swiftly wind up our windows. Both lions claws and elephant tusks outrank us. The elephants clearly have the upper hand today. Elephants are rightly the most feared creatures in South Luangwa. The police reports can’t be doubted. But today I have chosen to write about lions. The tim'rous beasties that cower behind our car when the trumpet sounds.

Lions. Iconic. Feared. The other big four don’t come close. No safari is complete without a sighting. Treasured images. Treasured experiences. Our trail cam caught one in Kapani in 2021. Our Zambian home is their home turf too. Each morning I check the veranda for lion before opening the front door. My perfect excuse for missing work: Sorry, we can’t come to work today the lions won’t let us. In my dreams.

Elephants define a good day. Lions define an excellent day. Lion cubs an outstanding day. The ranking is clear. Our buddies Caro and Chris from Oz appear to agree with the batting order. As Jeremiah, our guide, assesses our preferences for our first evening game drive, Caro attempts to sit on her hands, briefly. But soon enough, when offered the possibility of lions, about a half an hour’s drive away. Caro’s hand shoots up. I’d love to see the lions.

Caro and I met donkey’s years ago. 32 years to be precise. We bonded around the incubators of the neonatal department. Surrounded by work stress, we were kindred spirits. Nameless colleagues were somewhat less pleasant to be around. We even founded a fund to send one poisonous colleague back to America. That particularly bully deserves no anonymity. He assassinated his own character long ago. Happily, the fund eventually proved successful.

Keith’s bromance with Chris started in 1992. That same donkey year. They first met at Chris and Caro’s wedding. Their second meeting was on a bus in Crete. Without a plan, we crashed Chris and Caro’s honeymoon. A chance meeting for the 4 of us. But Keith and Chris definitely hit it off. The boys tend to regress 32 years, or more, whenever they meet. Debating who does the best chimpanzee, and who does the best duck. Neither of them impersonates. They both live their alter egos. Boys!

Bromance rekindled a week ago. Chris and Caro could no longer see a reason to stay away from Zambia. The Almost retired WhatsApp group gave birth to Caro and Chris’s new romance with Africa. Caro lived her formative years in The Gambia. Chris practically built Uganda. Who better to enjoy our end of service safari with?

We rough it in Kapani for almost a week. Then KuKaya bush camp summons us. Three days of unfettered luxury. Our own private guide. Jeremiah. Our first professional game drive has us sitting on our hands trying to suppress our glee. Caro breaks the truce with her declaration of interest in lions. Keith and I pretend that we aren’t obsessed by leopard cubs for all of 10 minutes.  

Keith and I have driven a lot in the park. We love lions. But we know how things can change. In 30 minutes, the lions can disperse. Or they may be exhausted. Asleep under a bush. Sleeping lions are still a sighting. But hardly worthy of Facebook bragging rights or of WhatsApp postcards. With practically a year’s worth of lion experiences under our belts we suck it up. Caro and Chris are here on a short break. Caro’s eyes are wide. Excited. Can we go and find them? I groan inwardly. A long hot drive. Some lions. Surrounded by dozens of vehicles. We smile through it all. And try to sound excited. We agree to head off on a lion hunt.

Jeremiah is true to his word. All the way to number 3 borehole. Deep in the bush. Away from anything else. But our journey takes 45 minutes. Not 30. We stop for nothing along the way. Dust. Diesel fumes. We round a corner. There, 20 metres away, is a solitary juvenile male lion. Sleeping in the shade. He does not rouse to the sound of our Landcruiser. Jeremiah tries to sound positive. There will be more around the corner. On we drive for another 10 minutes. And finally, we hit paydirt. Five hulking open game-viewers. Around another solitary male lion. But at least this lion is handsome. A mane worthy of Rod Stewart. Awake. Eyes fixed on ours. Watching to see where the tin opener is. There must be a way to separate that pink meat from those tin cans.

One of the pleasures of an evening game drive is sundowners. Please forgive me for rewriting history here: Sundowners are a quintessential English colonial tradition. Each Zambian guide knows our park like the back of his hand. Each guide has his favourite spot. He pulls over, just before the sun sets. Stunning view. Iconic African backdrops. The sinking sun transforms the blue to orange and red. Instagram ready images. Each guide pulls out a table. An impromptu bar. Gin and tonic in hand. Bar snacks compliment the drinks. Popcorn. Dried mango. Bliss.

But today’s quest for lions has been a trifle longer than planned. Thirty minutes stretches to 45. And the sun waits for no man. We spy fellow safari goers throwing caution to the wind. Their sundowners seem way too close to the hungry lion. A mere 100 metres away. We sensibly retreat to find a safe spot. Well away from the solitary male. A combretum bush seems to offer ideal toilet facilities. Jeremiah even marks his territory to declare the bush cludgy open. Meanwhile John, our spotter, sets up the bush bar. It’s Gin O’clock.

I take one sip. Our now distant male is roaring. Deep and throaty. A series of growls. Ending in some staccato notes. But at least distant.

A mouthful of popcorn. Vervet monkey bark their alarm. A predator? In the opposite direction from the lion. But the monkeys go quiet. Not insistent. Perhaps they have been mistaken? We share the dilemma. Do we down our drinks and head off to an uncertain leopard? Or two? Or do we head back to see if the handsome male will get up and hunt? A lion-in-hand so-to-speak? Or two uncertain leopards in the bush? As a leopard devotee my vote is counted mentally.

Darkness claims us. Venus appears. Then Scorpio. The Milky Way declares itself. The night sky dominates. I contemplate having my bush wee before we re-join the hunt. I snap quickly out of my reverie.

John’s voice. Urgent. Clear. A tone not to be ignored. Get back in the car. NOW! LIONS! Nobody questions him. We scramble back to the car. Jostling each other to climb in. Gin and tonics spilling. Hearts racing. Adrenaline levels sky high.  

From behind the bush-wee shrub, a lioness emerges. Five meters away. She glances at us. Ruing the missed opportunity. An easy meal that has just gone back into its packet. Re-tinned. She keeps on walking. Then another appears. And then yet another. 9 lionesses walk past us in all. They all turn and stare as they pass. John puts on the spotlight. So that we fully appreciate them. Large lionesses. One of them is unmistakable. Stumpy. She lost her tail to a croc 3 years ago. My urge to wee has suddenly gone. Hearts in mouths. We say nothing.

The last lioness passes. We let out a collective sigh of relief. We take stock. Caro is now between John and Jeremiah. New Testament style. Defended. But phoneless. Her phone lost in the melee. Our eyes meet. Pupils dilated. Heads shaking. Now we understand the alarm calls. The male was calling his clan. The pride responded to his summons. The monkeys were letting us know that there was a predator about. But they lost their nerve after counting to one. Our safe bar and bathroom just happened to be where the pride had chosen to walk. As a crow might fly. In a direct line back to their leader.  

We take a moment. Calm down. Count our limbs. John and Jeremiah pack up the sundowners paraphernalia. Thank goodness lions aren’t partial to dried mango. Gin and tonic. Or tourists. Perhaps gin and tonic protects against lion attacks as well as malaria?

Jeremiah races the girls back toward the boy. Luckily the girls lose the race. Our genius guide positions us perfectly. Again we find ourselves directly between the male and the females.  Nine lionesses once again file past us. Keith strokes them - in his crazy, gin-fuelled version of the truth. But the lionesses stroke past our vehicle. Too close for the iPhone focus mechanism. They greet Rod Stewart. And then settle down to do what lions do. Rest.

Meanwhile Caro’s phone is somehow still on the Landcruiser’s running board. We reclaim it and head back to camp. Venus and the lucky stars have kept us safe tonight. A whole – cumulative - year in South Luangwa has never dampened our ardour for game drives. But sharing the African bush with Caro and Chris has reignited our pride that we can, sort of, call this place our home. The wildlife. The scenery. The people. It’s our Valley and we love it.

But this place needs to come with several health warnings. Caveats if you like. Please note that:

• We are your only doctors.
• Always look out for grumpy elephants. Despite elephants being the most fantastic creatures: an elephant with an attitude can ruin your whole day.

  Follow this link to see what happened. 

  https://vimeo.com/manage/videos/1023388798

• Please ask your guide to do a safety drill. An emergency boarding in case of an unexpected close encounter with an over-friendly wild animal. This is just like a standard airline drill, but in reverse. Rehearse the steps that each person should use: how to stow your gin and tonic safely; practice holding on to your full bladder; moving silently around the vehicle; do all of this in 5 seconds. Don’t forget that an adult lion can jump over six meters in a single leap. Please give them a little personal space…… And breathe.

A little close for comfort

The perfect sundowner spot

Roughing it in our private pool in Kukaya

Yay. We found the dogs