WYATT
AUGUST 30, 7:28 AM
OKAVANGO DELTA, 19° 02’ S 22° 44’ E
9° CELSIUS, 48° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLEAR, WIND 10-15 MPH
Today is our seventh day in the bush. I did not expect it to take this long to find the wounded lioness and her cubs. Truthfully, I thought we’d track them down the first day. I don’t think Chocs or Tcori anticipated such a long journey either. Of course, we could call off the search at any time and return to Shinde Camp, but that isn’t really an option for me. We’ve been through too much to give up now.
Last night was long and I kept thinking I had a spider crawling on me, and that just about drove me out of my mind. This morning as the sun was coming up, we picked some native fruits and nuts and rationed them between us. We’ll have to hunt again today if we want to eat anything of substance. Maybe we’ll get another snake, or possibly a guinea fowl, which is like a shiny blue chicken. It’s important that we get some protein to keep up our strength.
I have taken our coordinates and calculated that we are approximately six miles southeast of the poacher’s camp, which sits at 18° 58′ S, 22° 40′ E. We quietly radioed Jubjub again this morning, and I gave her our current location. She informed us that an anti-poaching unit had been assembled and will be traveling to the delta by helicopter soon. Anti-poachers are people who hunt down and arrest poachers. We can only hope that they arrive in time.
GANNON
MID-MORNING
WYATT TELLS ME IT’S DAY #7, BUT I DON’T KNOW
We are taking a short break after an awfully long trek through thick brush. It was hard going in areas and we had to take turns clearing a trail with a machete. I need sleep. I’m starting to see things that aren’t really there. Earlier, I thought a snake was slithering toward me, ready to strike, but it turned out to be nothing. It’s crazy, the tricks your mind can play on you when you’re tired. I’m on the verge of collapse, but there’s no way I’m giving up.
WYATT
AUGUST 30, 1:21 PM
OKAVANGO DELTA
25° CELSIUS, 77° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLEAR, WIND CALM
Oh, what a sight! Fresh lion and cub prints in the sand! Tcori said they were only hours old. The fact that the lioness hasn’t bled to death already is a miracle. We must get to her immediately!
Lion prints in the sand
GANNON
LATER
After spotting the lion prints, we followed them through the sand into another section of forest where the ground was covered with fallen leaves and twigs and soon after that we lost the trail. Or so I thought. Apparently Tcori could see something that we couldn’t see because he kept moving like he was in a real hurry to get somewhere.
A few hundred yards into the forest, he turned to us and smiled. Sure enough, just ahead, lying near a termite mound, was the lioness and her four cubs. We didn’t want to startle them, so we all took cover behind the trees. The lioness was lying flat on her side, panting heavily with all this blood smeared across her back hind leg. The poor thing looked like she was on the verge of death. The lion cubs didn’t seem to have a clue that their mother was in such bad shape, as they continued to run around and wrestle playfully with one another in the leaves.
Tcori went right to work, smearing poison on the tip of one of his arrows. He then told us to stay put, and was creeping toward the lioness when one of the cubs, the runt of the litter, noticed Tcori and started jogging in his direction, probably thinking he wanted to play or something. Well, when the lioness saw the runt running away she got to her feet and her tail started to flip around and her ears went back, but she was just too weak to do much else. She could hardly even walk, and it was obvious she was in a lot of pain as she hobbled toward Tcori. Meanwhile, the little runt cub trotted right up to him, pawing at his leg like a house cat.
When Tcori was about fifty feet or so from the lioness, he drew back the arrow and let it fly. Man, does he have good aim. That arrow hit its mark dead-on, striking the lioness in the front right shoulder. She swatted it with her paw, and it fell to the ground, but the arrow had done its job, puncturing the skin and injecting the poison into her bloodstream. Tcori moved the runt toward its mother with his foot and once the cub had rejoined the others, Tcori backed off, keeping a close eye on the lioness the whole time.
“It will only be a little while before she is unconscious,” Chocs said. “Once she is, we must work quickly to remove the bullet and stitch her wound. Gannon and Wyatt, your job is to occupy the cubs while we work. Remember, they may seem small and harmless, but they can give you a serious wound with their teeth and claws.”
Then, like a flash, Tcori sprang to his feet and ran in the direction of the lioness.
“What’s he doing?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” Chocs said, pointing. “A cobra!”
Coiled up no more than ten feet from the lioness was a giant Egyptian cobra, one of the most venomous snakes in the world! Even a healthy lion would have trouble surviving a strike from one of these deadly reptiles. A weakened lion wouldn’t stand a chance.
Tcori moved through the forest like an antelope running from a hyena, quickly putting himself between the cobra and the lioness. Right away, the cobra rose up higher and fanned its hood. The thing was ready to strike and we all held our breath knowing that one bite would mean the end of our friend, but Tcori remained calm, real calm, just standing there casually eyeballing the thing when suddenly, he thrust his arm at the snake with the speed of a lightning strike, grabbing it just under its hood. Obviously, the cobra wasn’t so happy about this and fought like crazy to free itself, but Tcori had a solid hold, with his thumb pressed real hard under the snake’s jaw so it couldn’t strike. Wyatt and I looked on in complete awe of Tcori. The guy is totally fearless!
He carried the cobra far away from the lioness and her cubs and set it down at the base of a bush. Luckily, the snake slithered away without putting up any more of a fight.
WYATT
AUGUST 30, 3:27 PM
OKAVANGO DELTA, BOTSWANA
28° CELSIUS, 82° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLEAR, WIND CALM
We got to the lioness just in time, but the clock was still ticking. After the lioness was unconscious, Chocs and Tcori went to work on her wound. It was fun to play with the cubs, but I was more interested in the surgical procedure involved in removing the bullet. So I left Gannon in charge of what he was calling “the lion-cub day care” and stood behind Chocs and Tcori to watch.
After sterilizing his hands with alcohol from the medical kit, Tcori dug into the wound with his fingers. He dug deeper and deeper until his hand was almost completely buried inside the lion. After some prodding, he found the bullet but couldn’t get it out. It was lodged in a bone.
Then Chocs sterilized a pair of pliers and a hunting knife, and cut an incision on either side of the wound. This would give them better access to the bullet. He took the pliers and pushed them into the wound. After some maneuvering, he steadied his hand and squeezed. Sure enough, when he removed his hand from the lioness, there was a bullet pinched between the pliers.
Buzzing with excitement, I knelt down next to the lioness.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said, gently stroking the back of her head. “Everything is going to be just fine.”
Suddenly, the lioness opened her eyes. My heart nearly stopped. Sitting next to an unconscious lion is one thing. Sitting next to a conscious lion is a different ball game altogether.
Chocs and Tcori continued to stitch the wound, unaware that the lioness had woken up.
“Hey,” I whispered nervously. “Better wrap it up. She’s awake.”
Almost as an added warning, the lioness exposed her deadly canine teeth. She hadn’t eaten in days, so it was reasonable to assume that these teeth would be tearing into some poor animal’s flesh in the very near future. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t my flesh.
Chocs was just tying up the last s
titch when the lioness lifted her head and roared. It was good to see that her strength was returning, but it also meant that we had to get moving on the double. I tossed Chocs and Tcori their packs and dragged Gannon away from the lion cubs.
“That went as well as it could have,” Chocs said, as we made fast tracks through the bush. “She will be sore for a while, but I don’t believe there was any permanent damage.”
I couldn’t imagine that the lioness would be able to chase and kill her prey until she was back to full strength, so I asked Chocs what she would do in the meantime to feed herself and her cubs.
“She will go after smaller animals until she is strong enough to bring down something bigger,” Chocs explained. “Baby impala, warthogs, even birds. Lions are also scavengers, which means they take advantage of easy meals, like animals that die of natural causes. But I’m confident she’ll be able to hunt at full strength again soon.”
We have stopped for a much-needed rest. Other than some soreness in my legs, I’m feeling great. On top of the world! After all we’ve been through, we accomplished our mission. This is, without question, one of the proudest moments of my life.
GANNON
Now, I’m no surgeon so I stayed out of that whole bullet-removal ordeal and looked after the mama’s cubs while she was being tended to. I mean, puppies and kittens are cool and all, but playing with a lion cub beats playing with a dog or a cat any old day of the week.
The mother lioness and her cub
Goes without saying, but the cubs took a liking to me right away. They were jumping up on my legs, and clawing at me and wrestling one another for my attention. They may be small, but their teeth and claws are super sharp. I learned this the hard way, sticking my hand in one of the cub’s mouths like I’ve done with puppies before, not really thinking it’d be any different, but when you’re playing with lion cubs that’s not a very smart thing to do. The lion cub didn’t mean any harm when it bit my hand. They all just wanted to play, so that’s what we did.
The runt of the litter was my favorite. He wouldn’t leave my side. When I picked him up, he wagged his little tail and licked my chin with such excitement you would have thought it was covered in honey. I wanted so badly to take him home with me, but I knew that wouldn’t be right. His family would miss him too much. And imagine trying to get a pet lion through airport security. Talk about a headache.
Okay, break time is over. We’re all anxious to get back to Shinde Camp and we’ve got a long trek ahead. Sore feet don’t fail me now.
WYATT
AUGUST 30, 4:17 PM
OKAVANGO DELTA, 19° 08’ S 22° 46’ E
25° CELSIUS, 78° FAHRENHEIT
SKIES CLEAR, WIND CALM
We had been hiking for about a half hour, making good progress over grassy plains along the edge of a forest, when a gunshot stopped us dead in our tracks. Before we even had time to run for cover, the poacher stepped out from behind a bush. His high-powered rifle was pointed directly at us. He wore a patch over his left eye. His right eye was black as night.
He approached slowly. “Drop the rifle, or I’ll shoot!” he yelled.
Chocs did as he said.
“Everyone else put your hands up!”
The poacher moved quickly to Chocs, picked up the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. Without a weapon, we had no way of defending ourselves.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Chocs said.
“That’s too bad, mate,” the poacher responded. “Because you’ve got some.”
“Why don’t we each go our own way and pretend we never saw each other?” Chocs said.
“Too late for that,” the poacher said. “You stole something of mine, and I’m here to take it back. So do yourself a favor, and tell me where I can find my tusks!”
We all stayed quiet, which only made the poacher angrier.
“Where are they?” he yelled. “I’m not going to ask again!”
Again, no one answered.
“So, you’d rather die, is that it?”
The poacher brought the rifle to his shoulder, lowered his head to the scope and took aim at Chocs.
“So be it,” the poacher said.
“Wait!” I yelled. “Don’t shoot! I have the coordinates! I wrote them down in my notebook. It’s in my bag.”
“Give that notebook to me,” he said and turned his rifle on me.
I took off my backpack, set it on the ground and unzipped it. Pretending to rummage around inside the pack, I grabbed my GPS and quickly took our coordinates. My hands began to sweat. I knew that if the poacher discovered what I was doing, he would shoot me.
“Hurry up!” the poacher yelled. “I’m losing my patience!”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have too much stuff in my backpack. It’s almost impossible to find anything.”
“Let’s hope for your sake that you find it quickly!”
I knew I couldn’t stall much longer. My hands were shaking as I typed an “SOS” message into the radio and sent it to Jubjub. I could only hope that she received it.
“If you don’t find that notebook in ten seconds, I’ll have you digging your own graves!”
“I found it!” I said, removing the notebook from my backpack. I opened it and turned to the page where I’d written the coordinates.
“Here you go,” I said, showing it to the poacher. “This is where you’ll find your tusks, horns, and skins. It’s all there hidden under some brush.”
The poacher yanked the notebook from my hands and looked at the coordinates.
“You’re obviously skilled in wilderness travel,” he said. “I want you to take me there.”
“I’ll take you there if you let the others go,” I said.
“You think you’re making the rules here, do ya mate? Well, guess what, you’re not!”
“If you don’t let them go, you’ll never find your tusks.”
The poacher thought for a minute. He then gathered all of our packs and dumped them out on the ground. Sorting through our equipment, he found the radio and immediately stomped it to pieces with his heel. He also found my GPS and was about to crush it with the butt of his rifle when I stopped him.
“Don’t!” I said. “We need that to find our way!”
He stopped short, knelt down, and picked up the GPS.
“You better not be playing games with me, boy. If I find out you are, you’re finished.”
“I promise, I’m not.”
He put the GPS in a satchel and then searched each of us to see if we had anything hidden in our pockets.
“If you have other radios or satellite phones, hand them over right now. I can’t have you calling the authorities.”
“You’ve seen everything we have,” Chocs said. “We have no way to communicate with anyone.”
“What’s to prevent you from radioing once you reach camp?”
“We’re at least ten hours from our camp,” I said. “I’m guessing we’ll find your tusks within a few hours, tops. You’ll have time to collect your things and go on your way long before they even get back.”
This information seemed to calm the poacher’s nerves.
“The three of you stay put until we’re out of sight,” the poacher said. “Then you can be on your way.” He then turned to me. “Let’s get moving. It will be dark before long.”
“No, wait!” Chocs said, moving toward the poacher. “Take me instead!”
The poacher turned his gun on Chocs.
“Take one more step, and it will be your last!”
Chocs froze.
“I’m taking the boy, and that’s the last of it!”
There was nothing else Chocs could do. If he made another move, the poacher would kill him.
I nodded to Chocs to assure him that I would be okay. Truthfully, though, the thought of trekking through the delta at gunpoint had my stomach rumbling like an African thunderstorm. What was going to happen to me once we found the tusks, horns, and leopard skin? What reason would h
e have for keeping me alive? This was a man who had no problem killing. He did it for a living. We had interfered with his mission, and I was sure he wanted revenge.
“Once you are there,” Chocs instructed, “climb to the top of the highest tree. You’ll be less vulnerable to predators and easier for us to spot. Tcori and I know the delta like the back of our hands. As soon as we arrive at camp, we’ll get a vehicle and come for you.”
“Enough!” the poacher yelled, pressing the barrel of his rifle in my back. “Get going and keep your hands where I can see them! Try anything and believe me, you’ll regret it!”
I looked at my brother, and couldn’t help thinking that it might be the last time I ever see him.
“If you hurt him,” Gannon said, “we’ll find you.”
“You worry about yourself, mate,” the poacher said. “You have to cross the delta without a weapon. Chances are you’ll be eaten alive before nightfall.” He turned to me. “Now, go! We have no time to waste!”
The poacher shoved me hard in the back, and we began our march. My fate was sealed.
“Hang in there, Wyatt!” Gannon said. “We’ll come for you!”
Just then I heard something in the distance. It almost sounded like a machine gun. As I turned around a helicopter suddenly rose up from behind the trees. I couldn’t believe it. The anti-poachers had arrived!
GANNON
Okay, just for the record, this has been one of the craziest, most action-packed, nerve-racking days I’ve ever had—and will probably ever have—well, with the lions, and the poacher and the anti-poachers and Wyatt being held at gunpoint. I mean, it took just about every ounce of stamina and courage we had just to get to the lioness and her cubs, but we did it and I thought it was all over, and then the poacher jumps out of nowhere and takes my brother hostage! I was thinking for sure Wyatt was a goner, that we were all goners, and then I saw the anti-poaching helicopter, and I’m like, thank heavens this nightmare is finally over! We’re saved! I mean, there was nowhere for the poacher to run, so I assumed he’d throw down his gun and surrender, but unfortunately the poacher had other plans.
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