It was the second day’s game drive on our May visit to Tanzania in sub-equatorial east Africa. We were there to witness the annual “Great Migration” of some 1.3 million wildebeest (AKA gnu) and 300,000 zebra across the Serengeti. But that would come later. First, guides would take us in open-air vehicles to view the local wildlife. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! (Well, no tigers or bears in Africa but plenty of lions).
We’d already seen several lions that day. Our guide spotted a young male lounging on a lakeside bank and we made the circuit for a closer look. He was king and, undisturbed by our intrusion, continued to bask and pose for photos.
Around 1 p.m., Raymond rounded the corner on another lake to come right up on a pair of young lions relaxing on the sandy shore and drinking. Again, they showed no fright of our vehicle but one, perhaps more bothered than worried, arose and calmly ambled up the steep bank to the grassy field above. Raymond followed. The lion disappeared into what our Louisiana-trained eyes would have seen as just a tuft of bushes and tall grass. But as our vehicle neared, we looked down into a pride of lions. Two-three-four, finally eight. Some remained, disinterested. Others wandered over to check out their visitors. A great maned male settled to sun in the grass not a dozen feet from us.
My real thrill came three hours later as we made our way slowly back to camp, stopping to photograph various wildlife and colorful birds along the way. Raymond pulled off the bumpy dirt track to make our way through trees and grass. “There! In the tree!” I shouted excitedly. We drew near. Sure enough, 20 feet up among the limbs of an acacia tree (remember the Old Testament wilderness) lay a young female. She looked more like a cuddly rag doll than a man-eater. Closer examination proved three females overhead. Our guide explained that females often find shelter in trees to get relief from the heat and bothersome flies. Adult males are generally too heavy. This shot down the Tarzan-based belief I’d held since childhood that if a lion was chasing you, a tree was safe because they couldn’t climb. Wrong! Leopards and cheetahs can. I came to another realization. I’d pridefully claimed my “sighting” that night back at camp but finally realized that our guide, with his binoculars and 15-years of training, had likely spotted the Lion Tree but remained silent so that one of his passengers could be “the first.” That was me and I’m glad he did.
Truth is we probably saw more lions in trees than otherwise over the next two weeks. They lay in tall grass, walked down the road past us, chased their quarry, protected their kill and cooled off in trees. In all instances, they displayed an aura of strength and majesty. As to strength and beauty, that would have to go to the leopard. Them, we saw in trees, often with their prey. Sleek and beautiful, now that goes to the cheetah which we found in grassy fields, one trio of brothers, another poised atop a termite mound. Our guide had advised that this curious big cat would often climb onto the vehicle to peer in. We experience that oh-so-close pet-like stare as one jumped aboard to view our crew.
We’d become adherents of the “Caution-not-Fear” philosophy of this safari. The advice to “stay on the paths, not in the grass” made sense after we’d watched massive tan lions disappear into not-so-tall tan grass. Or seen an Egyptian cobra (alive) or a black mamba (dead) on the road. While we could walk to dinner before sunset, a camp guide with flashlight and maybe a weapon would take us back to our tent and zip us in for the night. At one camp that seems mostly for show when Maasai warriors with spears or incredibly long knives were our escorts but all we saw were wonderfully tiny antelope called dik-dik and a pair of early morning giraffes. At the next camp, however, the caution was real. Our escorts were camp workers armed with little more than a flashlight and the hope that something bad would probably not happen. One of our nightly gatherings around the campfire was canceled when lions were spotted in the area. On another, our escort Tingaday’s flashlight revealed intense green eyes reflected back from the border grass. “That is a hyena,” he informed us. “A lion would be red.” Our flashing lights made the predator move on. We were glad when our escort zipped us into the tent. Mind you, these were not Boy Scout camping tents but heavy canvas, hotel room-size structures on raised wood platforms. Close enough that lions can stroll by. High enough that lions can walk under. “But they’ll never bother you in the tent,” we are advised. And with that assurance, we slept each night.
