I’ve spent a lot of time around wildlife. Probably started when I was growing up as a boy in Australia, wandering barefoot through scrub and bushland, catching all manner of lizards and snakes to observe and marvel over. Even back then as a skinny kid exploring the bush, I dreamed of going to Africa and seeing lions, elephants and rhinos in the wild. Which I’ve done on several occasions now, but with this trip, I got up close and personal to the very animals I’d dreamed of seeing over the years.
Timbavati game reserve, Kruger National Park, South Africa. With the customary 0430 start looming, I woke ten minutes early, walked out on the verandah to the outdoor shower and made eye contact with a rather testy waterbuck with a set of horns only slightly smaller than me! In unspoken mutual agreement we gave each other a nod and turned back to going about our own business. Dawn had yet to break and some of the stars were still visible as night retreated, the Southern Cross sinking beyond the horizon. A naked, outdoor shower, pre-dawn in the South African bush. Already an amazing start to the day.
As a leopard had taken to sleeping under our accommodation, it was a wary walk to the transport,eyes peeled for our so far unseen, feline companion. The idling of the vehicles’ engines and the soft conversations of the trackers joined the awakening birdsong. A few quick gulps of steaming coffee and a shiver in the cool of the morning air and we drove off into the bush, the breeze cold against our skin.
The tracker turned to me and smiled, teeth gleaming beneath the shadow of his bush hat. “Today will be a good day again. Lions are moving through this area.”
This was welcome news and I checked the camera’s settings, ensuring it was ready for immediate deployment. I’d been caught out before; whipped the camera to my eye to catch one of those never to be repeated moments only to find out I’d left it on the previous night’s settings for star trails. Lesson learned.
Dawn’s rays crept over the eastern horizon as we entered acacia groves, the vehicle slowing to walking speed to avoid us having freshly-whipped faces to return back to camp with. And all the time accompanied by that heady tang of the bush; an indefinable smell, acrid yet sweet at the same time. Unmistakeable.
A muted cackle on the radio and tracker and guide huddled together, quiet voices unable to disguise their excitement. The tracker looked back. “Very close. We’ll move on a little bit and wait. I think I know where they are going.” This statement impresses some of us. He knows where the lion is going? Our vehicle creeps forward and pulls out into a small clearing ringed by low trees and thick bushes. Although not full daylight, our eyes have adjusted and it seems so to us. I watch the bush beyond our vehicle, scanning the foliage slowly and methodically, knowing from experience how difficult it is to spot wild animals in their environment.
I stop. Hold my breath and look harder into a small thicket. Something moved. And again, the faintest of colour shifts within the shadows under the canopy. A grey-coloured shape disappearing between gnarled, shrunken trunks and twisted roots. I motion with my hand towards the area and the tracker follows my indication and nods, giving me a thumbs-up. Still following the movement with my eyes I wonder what I am looking at. At this point it is still just a shape. Too quiet to be buffalo, not right for a waterbuck, too small for an elephant, definitely not a rhino. And then it was there. In the open of the clearing no more than ten feet from where I sat. A stunning young lion.
Sauntered? Swaggered? Very difficult to put a name to how a lion makes its way through its territory. Utter assuredness of its place is certainly the impression I got watching him cross the small clearing, a casual glance towards us and instant dismissal of our importance to him. Just as he was almost half way across the open ground, another lion appeared from the undergrowth. Very similar in size, mane and attitude. The tracker whispers over his shoulder to us. “Brothers. Came over from Kruger this morning. They had a buffalo kill last night so they’re looking for water now.”
My camera was up and I focussed the long lens, getting detailed shots of these magnificent creatures. If you’ve ever seen a lion in a zoo or safari park, they are generally pretty plump, sedentary beasts with an air of resignation at their lot in life. These animals were a world apart. Lean and muscular, cords and tendons visibly roiling beneath tight skin. Scars punctuated every area of their bodies. An occupational hazard when your evening meal can be anything up to half a ton of horns, hooves and teeth fighting for its survival.
The brothers melted into the scrub beyond the clearing and the guide manoeuvred the vehicle and drove a short distance further. With no sign of the lions he parked alongside a small, muddy pool and turned the engine off. I quickly checked my shots on the LCD screen, that initial momentary fear that they would be out of focus or my ISO was too low. But no; I had some great images. Looking up, I watched as the brothers appeared on the bank of the pool and again, dismissed our relevance with a casual glance.
I locked my camera in on them as they made their way through the dried mud, the hexagonal platelets cracking under their massive pugs. I knew the shot that I wanted; both of them, drinking together, head and shoulders in frame. And there it was. I fired off a rapid series of shots, adjusting the framing occasionally on the off chance one angle might be better than another. Then I stopped and lowered my camera.
Because another thing I have learned through the years is that the camera can all too easily become the focus of your attention and that you miss a lot of what actually brought you here in the first place. The animals. That privilege of proximity to apex predators in their environment. That primal excitement when the lion’s deep, sawing roar reverberates through your own chest.
I watched them until they’d drank their fill and moved off, their backs turned towards us, tails twitching at the flies buzzing their rumps. As they entered the forest and left us for good, I thought about what we had witnessed and how lucky I felt to be present at such a sight. Even though I’d encountered leopard, elephant, rhino and buffalo on this trip, there was something very special about the fraternal aspect of this morning’s activity.
An incredible experience and a true privilege to have had on the last morning of our trip.
