On the Hunt

by Michael Cuglietta (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown South Africa

The eye shine hung in the air like a swarm of lightening bugs. “The yellow are wildebeests,” our guide said. “The red lions.” Three sets of red eyes went to one side of the herd and disappeared below the tall grass. The other two crept around the opposite side. “Keep your voices down,” our guide whispered. The lion’s strategy, he told us, was for the two on the far end to chase the herd towards the three hiding in the grass. With any luck, they would jump up and lock their jaws around the neck of a fleeting wildebeest. "I can't watch." Cynthia covered her eyes. We’d been at Sabi Sands, a private game reserve that shares a fenceless border with Kruger National Park, for a week and had yet to see a kill. We saw a leopard drag an impala up a tree for her and her cub. But the impala was already dead when we arrived. As the leopard searched for a branch sturdy enough to support her kill, three spotted hyena materialized out of the bush. We held our breaths as the cub walked out to the tip of a branch that seemed way too thin, the hyenas underneath, foam coming out the corners of their massive jaws. “Don’t worry,” our guide said “leopards are skilled climbers.” We came back to check on the leopard and her cub on each safari. It took them two days to finish the impala. They stayed in the tree the entire time. And, all that time, the hyenas waited. We were there when the leopards licked the last bits of meat off the carcass. The mom stood-up, stretched and looked down at the hyenas, pacing around the tree, their breaths heavy, knowing they were moments away from their long awaited payoff. She kicked the skeleton down. As soon as it hit the ground, the hyenas had a game of tug-a-war till each had their own piece broken off. As they crunched the bones, mom and her cub jumped out of the tree and took off. Our guide pointed the flood light at one of the lions, moving towards the wildebeests, his body low to the ground, like a snake. In the morning, we were checking out of the lodge. Before flying home, we’d spend a few days self-driving through Kruger. Without a guide, we’d be limited to the paved roads and, from sunset to sunrise, we’d be locked inside the rest camps. If we were going to see a kill, this, very likely, would be our last opportunity. The lion came to a sudden stop, stuck his butt up and wiggled it. “Why’s he stopping?” Cynthia asked. “I’m not sure,” our guide said. “He must see something.” The lion leapt into the air. Before he touched the ground, I heard the rattling. It was accompanied by a hiss, which spooked the wildebeests. They ran. The other lions didn’t know if they should chase their meal or help their brother. He was midair when the quills went up. He tried reversing course. It was too late. At the airport, Cynthia bought a laminated wildlife guide. After each safari, we checked off the animals we saw. Out of all the ones we’d yet to check off, the crested porcupine was high on our list. “That porcupine got him good,” our guide said. “See the blood under his chin?” The wildebeests gone, the rest of the lions came to see if they could, possibly, sate their appetite with a light, porcupine snack. While their brother licked his wounds, they tried surrounding the porcupine. But the little guy was skilled at keeping predators at his rear. Each time a lion dared get close, he backwards charged, quills first. “Their only hope is to get a paw underneath and flip him over,” our guide said. We stayed for as long as we could. “If we don’t head back now,” our guide put the truck in gear “we’ll miss dinner.” When we left, the lions were still making attempts at the porcupine. But they were half-hearted. “Amazing, isn’t it?” our guide said. “That little guy, fending off an entire coalition of lions.” We agreed. It was amazing.