Lion

Tuesday May 21, 2013
Asiatic Lion- present-day female, 163 kg, India (lives on border of Gir Protected Area)

Head low. Shoulders hunched. Slightly panting in the heat. Trotting towards the wild boar. Counting on the long yellow grasses to conceal me. Staring. Focused.

Hunger. A presence, always there in my body. Always there in the pride. Now part of us. It makes us irritable. Tempers are short. There is not a day without a scuffle between two lions. Hunger is a problem. And now with cubs, I must quell the hunger. My cubs must eat. My pride must eat.

The smell. Wild boar do not smell good. They smell of dirt and mud and dust. Of waste. They stink. But they are prey, and to hungry lions they smell delicious. I stalk forward. I sort out the scents in the air. I focus on the boar.

Two of them. A male, a female. A pair. Both full grown. I am ahead of my hunting group. The other lionesses are more careful. We must lead the boar into the trees. Where the other group of lionesses will ambush them. They will be surrounded. I dare to advance forward. Excited. We all are.

The boar sniff at the ground, looking for mushrooms. Unaware of hunters. I am close. But I wait. I bunch my haunches. I prepare to spring. I sense the other lions around me. We move as one. Freeze as one. They are just as ready as I am to bring food to the pride. We spring from the grasses as one. I snarl. The other lions snarl. The boars squeal, surprised. Lots of scuffling. I regain my footing and sprint after the pigs. My heart pumps. Adrenaline makes my feet fly. My head pounds. Excitement is static in the air.

I steer them to where the other group lies in wait. They spring out too, pouncing from the bushes. I spot my sister. Her teeth is bared, long sharp fangs. Claws out. Eyes narrowed. Ready to tear and eat the meat. A mirror image of me. We tear at the ground with our claws, catching our grip. The pigs are bolting away. Lions fast on their heels, my sister and I the fastest. The furthest ahead. Fear is a strong stench in the air. Our prey squeal and kick and rear in terror. I can only hear my ragged panting. I fly across the ground. I stop myself, ready to pounce. The rest of the pride is skirting around us, surrounding the pigs. I spring.

The coarse hair of the female slips underneath my claws. My meat squeals in pain. Terror. It kicks at my belly. I hook my claws on its shoulders. My tail helps me balance. It topples. Stumbles underneath my weight. Thrashes. Struggles to get on its feet. In the savannah: off the feet, game over.

It rolls up. Grunts and slams into my body with its tusks. I flinch and dodge away. Hurt pounds into my flanks. I snarl at it. I am hungry. I would usually leave the pig alone. And find other food. But there is no other food. I need this food. I attack it again.

It butts at me with its tusks. Refuses to give in. Hurt. It slashes at my throat. I bring my large paw on it. Striking it. Stunning it. I pounce and grab at its chest. With claws. With fangs.

The lions close in. I clamp my teeth around its throat. Its muffled groans slowly die out. I squint my eyes. I bite, holding my grip on its neck. Again waiting. Feeling the pump of blood accelerating beneath my teeth. Then only a faint pump. It shakes its legs weakly. The lions cannot wait. They already start tearing into the pig. While I drain its life through its throat. It is still alive as my mother takes a first mouthful of meat.

The male boar has escaped. It wounded many of our lions with its sharp tusks and kicks. It itself is wounded and may be easy to track. Our lions gave it a wide berth as it scuttled off the battlefield. For now we are satisfied with the female. We are lucky just to be able to catch this pig. Most hunts are unsuccessful. We usually return to our pride with our prey escaped. Some lions provided only a taste of blood. Or not tracking any prey at all. Then we move. But we have hunted down all the prey around. We are still starving. We now head into the woods. Closer to a strange presence. I sense only danger there. But we have no choice.

The boar is good. Fresh blood, fresh meat. After so long of emptiness of hunger. I can quell my hunger. Feed my cubs.

The males and the two females that have lagged behind catch up. My cubs follow. My mother’s sister  and her young lion slow down to protect my cubs while I lead the hunt. The males trot over to eat. Mate and his sibling. Spirits are high. But little skirmishes to blown-out fights easily rise when meat is involved. Mate and Mate’s brother: moody. They growl over a piece of meat. Pawing each other, claws half-extended. Showing teeth. My mother’s sister growls protectively over a boar leg.

After the meal. The pride sits and rests contentedly. We are tired. Still hungry. But we have quelled the sharpest of it. We will sleep off the rest of the day. Move on again in the night. The boar should’ve lasted us for days. After that we should not have to eat until we find food again. But now we have to move immediately. The hunger pangs. Right after the meal. Still there.

I care for my cubs. I groom the male. The female is bothering her father. Tugging on his ear. Demanding food. He bats her away irritatedly. The cubs learn by tagging along to the hunts. By cold experience. We were taught this way. And we teach by acting natural. They wrestle and fight with each other. That is their play. They learn from the hurts. Become stronger. I care for them this way. They care for themselves. When they are old enough, the male will be kicked out. He will find his own pride and pass on his genes. My younger female will stay with me. My mother. My mother’s sister. My mother’s sister’s daughter. We are knit together. I will have my own offspring. I beam with pride. This is the nature of the mother.

I know cubs rarely survive to adulthood. My mother gave birth to many litters before mine. Females live with their mother’s pride for life. I do not have any other sisters besides the one of my same litter. The rest must’ve been killed. By rival males. Before my father came. He was strong enough to protect my mother’s pride. Strong enough to last longer than most males. He was driven off by the brothers now in the pride, my Mate and his sibling. They may look the head, but my mother. She is the real ruler of the pride.

Night falls. It is time to go. We leave the hunting grounds. Now barren of prey. The boar’s bones stripped clean. We move slowly. I move slower so my cubs can keep up. My stomach growls. Cubs bawl. They have been weaned. They now crave real meat. Their share of the boar is nothing. I have nothing to give them.

We trail a new scent. It is fresh. Exciting. Dangerous. A trail of large meaty animals: cows. A breeze blows. Fat round treats: pigs. Goats. Birds: chickens. And then. A strange scent, dangerous and alien: Man. We are opportunisitic animals, and this is opportunity. Even if there are risks ahead. Even if there is Man.

We are close. And we are hungry. They take our land. Where we used to hunt, Man makes shelters instead. They bring food. But they are not willing to share. They defend their animals by killing us with loud sticks. I don’t understand the sticks. But they hold the power. They kill lions. Father’s brother killed. He’d wandered too close to Man’s shelters.

I no longer have any choice. We must attack Man. We must take their food to feed ourselves. They will kill us. It is not a fair fight. I know well the risks. But I cannot escape them.

We rest by a lone tree. Very close to Man’s shelters. They are just on the horizon. It will take the night to reach them. Any animal in our land is prey. The antelope and boar. Even Man’s animals: chickens are prey. Pigs and cows and goats. Man is prey too. I wonder what Man tastes like.

I pant softly. My mother’s sister’s daughters and my mother cares for my cubs. My cubs nestle near the lionesses. We care for each other’s cubs in a pride. We raise them together. I lower my head, guard down. The males protect the pride. They are nearby. My mother’s sister lies near Mate’s brother. Mate watches my cubs carefully. I am glad he accepted them when they were born. He acknowledges his position as their Father.

Later on in the night. When all is silent. We will attack.