Asiatic Lion- present-day female, 163 kg, India (lives on border of Gir Protected Area)
I stare at the males. I wait until they leave the bodies of my poor dead cubs. Once bursting with life. Now, lifeless. So quickly. So young.
They become disinterested in the corpses. Growing cold so fast. I’m glad they don’t eat it. When they approach the females, we snarl. We will not let them near us yet. And they will stay with us until we let them mate. There is no other way. They have become part of our pride now. I detest them like my mother detested Mate and his brother. When my father was driven off by them.
But I must come to accept them. This is the lion way of life. I am glad to never be separated from my mother. I am with her pride.
With no cubs to feed. Yet hunger still crawls at my stomach. I hear more earsplitting sounds. BOOM, BOOM. CRACK. The sound of the strange sticks. Then scurrying footsteps, and the other lionesses gallop up the slope. They are unsuccessful in raiding the Man dwellings. They stare curiously at me. At those males. The males stride forward boastfully. The rogues with filthy pelts. Revolting. The other lionesses smell death in the air. I see the grief in their eyes. The pity for me but the meaning of something else for them.
No one is ready to mate yet. We are all too hungry. Overwhelming sadness crashes on me. Yet I must move on. I must survive to carry on my genes. I crouch down the slope. We will attack the Man dwellings again. Only this time we will not search for scraps. We will go for the live meat.
We wait first. There is lots of waiting in lion hunting. Lots of patience. I snatch a stray rat and finish it in one mouthful. It is nothing to fill my stomach. I must have real, heavy meat. And I must brush away the sadness of losing my cubs. With it I cannot hunt well for nourishment. Without nourishment my second litter will not survive.
And then, dark depths of night. The brightness above the can has gone out. The Man creatures seemingly disappeared. In their dwellings, I suppose. We crept down the slope. Tasting air. Delicious smells. The other animals have scented us. They panic. But they cannot escape. They are penned. Man has done all our work of chasing for us. This is easy game.
A few lionesses stalk a large cow. It moos, its stench filling my nostrils. Its eyes roll wildly in its head in fear. The males corner a huge creature much like the hog: a pig. I creep towards big feathery birds; chickens. None of these animals native to our land. Yet still brought here, by Man. Smelling so delicious and fatty.
The animals begin to make terrified sounds. Squawks, honks, oinks. I hear the intensified terror in the cattle as lionesses sink teeth into its neck. The squeals of the pig as it kicks in its pen. Thrashing and wailing. I focus on the chickens. Clucking rapidly and smelling of fear.
They are a mass of dirt-colored feathers and bright beaks. I leap easily over the wooden gates and lunge into the flock. Chickens squawk and scatter. They flap wings in terror. They can not fly. They make a terrible noise.
I manage to pounce on two. I let the smaller go, crunching down on the bigger’s neck in one swift bite. Bones are crushed in my teeth. Blood gushes through onto my tongue. Hot blood that tastes delicious.
Soon it is all over my muzzle as I lie there and feast. In the middle of the chicken pens with the chickens in bewilderment. I take my time. I have much of the night left and these birds cannot go anywhere. It is a lion’s feast here.
A flurry of feathers and dried blood sticks to my mouth. I’ve reduced the first to bones. With a quick pounce I leap on another and eat it. I fill my stomach with fowl brought by Man. The blood and everything of the chicken is delicious. I have grown a liking for these animals.
From the smell of blood the other lions have brought down the cow and the pig. They have made a great rattle of noise. I’ve only just snapped the neck of a third. When the brightness turns on again, blinding my eyes. Man voices. Gurgled, strangled sounds. Yelling. Shouting. I grab my dead bird, ready to bolt.
Man has awakened by the sounds. Suddenly something loud clatters next to me. I drop my bird in surprise and snarl. Hair bristling, startled, scared. It is made of metal and blasts my ears. I take my catch and run. I sense the strange sticks will be coming out next. To get us.
And I am right. Just as I race into the darkness. CRACK! BOOM! Something lands right behind me. I realize I might have just narrowly escaped death.
But another lion isn’t so lucky. I hear another CRACK and someone yelps. The thud of falling to the ground. I have no time to look back. I don’t dare. I sprint, faster than I ever had. Up the slope out of sight. I feel dirt fly behind me and I hear a whistling sound. Right after the next CRACK! that deafens my ears. Another speeding object. It almost killed me.
I emit a low moan of terror and relief as I reach safety. I set my catch down. Lick my muzzle. Sniff out in the air. Most of the other have made it back safe. Shaken but safe. But blood is still sharp in the air. The noisy sticks have hit a lion. Maybe more than one.
I finish my chicken and wait on the slope, panting. My mother joins me. Terror is in her eyes. But she is fine. Her muzzle smells of blood. Of the feast she gorged on. She sniffs at the feathers by my side. She had taken part in eating the cow. They had only finished half of it before the Man creatures came. The cow meat too much to bring back. We leave it for Man.
Two lions don’t appear from the hunt.
My mother’s sister’s daughter. And my sister.
I race down the hill when everything is quiet. Death stinks the air. There is my sister, collapsed. Her golden fur streaked with blood. It is dark in the night. Her eyes stare blankly up at the sky. A trickle of red crawls from her mouth. My mother’s sister’s daughter is nowhere to be seen. But a trail of blood leads into the dwellings.
My loved ones. Dying so quickly.
Under Man’s wrath.
