Lion

Wednesday May 29, 2013

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

And then. Danger. I sense it. I am with the males and my sister. The pride has split up. The other lionesses are away. Near the Human dwellings. I pace. I keep my cubs close. The males have sensed it. They are disturbed. They trot away. Slowly. Then faster. Danger is coming. Danger will take the pride.

The males patrol boundaries. I taste the air. Two other males. Other rogue males. Other bachelors. I fear for my cubs. These males will try to take the pride. Just like Mate and Mate’s brother took from my father. If they are not driven off, they will drive away our males. They will kill my cubs. My cubs do not have their blood. They are rival cubs. The new males will attack us. I do not know when. I pace. I pant. If they want my cubs. I can not do anything. The other lionesses do not have cubs. They will not protect my cubs along with me. They want cubs of their own. Dead cubs brings females into heat. I can only watch mine die.

I know this. I know this already. Every mother may experience it. Mine had. We can only watch in grief. And wait for new cubs.

And then, they come.

They challenge Mate and Mate’s brother. They snarl. They bristle their manes. Showing off. My sister has huddled close to my cubs. We watch. My mother’s sister and her daughters climb up the hill. They watch. I am terrified. I crouch in the grasses.

A few bared teeth. Anger in the air. Mate lunges first. His large paws striking at the others. Killer claws. But these are rogues. They have killer claws too.

The lions scuffle. Snarls and roars can be heard for miles. Whimpers of pain where tooth strikes skin. A sound of near defeat.

It is over. So fast. And now I do not stop my cubs from drifting away. I stand. My tail twitches.

Mate and Mate’s brother scurry off the land. They flee. They have lost.

Leaving my mother’s pride at the mercy of the rogues.

The lions advance. Some lionesses. But not all. Not enough. We snarl. When they near we snap with our teeth. We lower our backs. I step daringly in front of my cubs. Motherly instincts snarling at them. Warning them. Stay away.

But they do not. I lunge for one’s neck but he brushes me off. Twists and grabs mine. Sinks his teeth. Waits. Pain. Hurt. A punishment. I do not attack but I am not cowed. I snarl at them. Fury. Anger. Boiling emotions.

The other lionesses do not dare attack. They have nothing to lose. Their cubs may come from these lions. Had they had cubs from Mate and Mate’s brother, mine would’ve stood a chance. But no.

In the depths of the night. One lion leaps for my female while the other sinks his teeth into my male. They trot forward, faster and faster. They grab their necks, shake their bodies. Break them. My cubs try escaping. They can not get anywhere. They mewl. They call for me. But I do not go to them. I watch them die in front of me. I am helpless. I hate this feeling. Bitterness. Grief. A low moan erupts from my throat. A moan of a mother losing her young. I stare at the males. My cubs. I had raised them. So young. Now, limp lifeless bodies in the waving grass. One rogue lays next to the male, panting.

Everything happens. So fast.

Dead.

Grief.

Dead.

Grief.

So much grief.

I stare at the bodies.

I cannot lift my gaze away.