We walk silently; in single file; the occasional crackle as
one of us brushes the dry grass the only sound. The two rangers, in front,
their rifles slung carelessly over their shoulders, scan the isolated clumps of
thorn trees for any sign of game. It is the middle of the dry season and the
entire landscape is palette of tawny shades.
“Lion,” mutters the lead and we all freeze; unease palpable
on our faces. We've never encountered a lion like this before.
It is day two of the Bushman Trail, a ranger guided walk in
a remote, wilderness area of the Kruger National Park in South Africa. The
Bushman Trail is one of two such wilderness walks based at the Southern end of
the the park. Hikers meet at Berg en Dal camp and are transported to a remote
bush camp that is the base for extensive day walks into the surrounding
bushveld. Walking provides a rather different experience to the antiseptic
safety of viewing game from a car that most visitors to the park experience;
being immersed in the landscape exposes the sounds, smells and textures of the
scrubby thorn country that we are walking through. The walks follow unmarked
trails laid down by generations of animals, crossing everywhere from the dusty
savannah valleys to the boulder strewn hills known locally as koppies.
Nikkol, our lead ranger is an imposing figure with the
piercing gaze of someone who has spent a lifetime staring at wide open
landscapes. He has an encyclopaedic knowledge of the bush and its animals that
he shares in laconic style around the camp fire and at rest breaks. He has
spent the last two evenings explaining that the lion roars that we hear at
night are the sound of a mating pair and that he is hoping to show us. He knows
that they are nearby as he has already shown us a recent buffalo kill; the
giant frame stripped to little more than gleaming white bone.
We are not disappointed; as we freeze behind the rangers;
two tawny shapes emerge from the sere landscape; a large male and female. We
all crane forward to see; remaining motionless and hardly daring to breathe in
case the pair notices us. It is pointless; lions are a supreme predator and we
stick out like a neon sign outside a fast food joint. The lioness jumps up to
investigate.
The two rangers suddenly have rifles in hand and there is a
single click as they both chamber a round. The rifles carry a 458 soft slug
capable of stopping a charging elephant, but they are of minimal comfort to us
as the lioness fixes us with yellow eyes that leave no doubt as to her intent.
Nikkol tersely tells us to climb up to a large rock ledge, but not to take our
eyes off her. Turning away would indicate that we are fleeing; a signal that
predators may interpret as the start of a chase. Climbing a rocky, bush covered
slope backwards turns out to be quite easy when your motivation is a
realisation that you are no longer at the top of the food chain.
A minute later we are all perched on top of a high boulder;
anxiously scanning the nearby bush for signs of the lioness. The male has not moved from where we first
saw him, and is eyeing us incuriously. We all breathe a quiet sigh of relief as
his mate reappears next to him, satisfied that she has driven the intruders
away.
We sit quietly, watching these lords of the savannah and our
patience is rewarded with a rare sight. The male begins to growl softly; the
female flicks her tail and watches. The male, seeing the invitation, mounts her
and they roar in unison. Their roars quickly rise to an earth-shattering crescendo
before they break apart. The female rolls onto her back and sticks all four
legs in the air, flicking the dry dust with her tail; for all the world like an
oversize, contented house cat. In low whispers Nikkol explains that the pair
will mate like this every 15 minutes for two to three days and if successful
that this will be the start of a new pride of lions.
Mating lions are a rare sight, so later we return in the
safety of the game viewing vehicle to take photos and watch until the sun goes
down. Everyone gets ample opportunity to take photos and there are cries of
“Eat your heart out National Geographic.”
Late in the afternoon, a second scrawny, battle scarred male
appears. Nikkol explains that lions are very social animals; the two males are
hunting mates who would have fought over mating rights with the female who
probably wandered into the area.
“So, where was he while we were walking?” asks one of us.
'Oh, somewhere nearby,” replies Nikkol.
