by Sibel Hodge
One of the dogs crept closer with several others bringing up the rear. They were still about fifty metres away, so I wasn’t panicking. Yet.
‘They’re coming closer,’ I said.
‘OK, all done. I’m going to give her the antidote, which works very quickly. As soon as I’ve done it, jump into the Land Rover and we’ll get going.’ He injected the wild dog. ‘Go!’ he yelled.
I jumped in, closely followed by Dad, and we watched the dog stagger to its feet, glance around for a few minutes with glassy eyes, then stumble slowly off to the rest of the pack, who greeted her with sniffs and nudges.
‘Well, I’d say that was a good morning, wouldn’t you? If we’d left her like that she would’ve died from an infection or septicaemia, not to mention the amount of pain she’d be in,’ Dad said on the way back.
As we neared the lodge I saw a Land Rover painted with Mumbi Game Reserve on the side. We headed to Dad’s office and I caught sight of Zach and the beautiful Kira enjoying a drink at the bar together.
My good morning had just turned sour.
Chapter 19
‘I can’t do it.’ I held my hands over my face while Zach carried a small hare upside down by its feet as it wriggled to get away. ‘I can’t watch.’
‘She has to learn to associate live animals with prey. We’ll start her with small ones and see what happens.’
‘You’ll have to put it in there.’
I heard the door to Asha’s enclosure open and close and waited for the sounds of her eating.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked after a few minutes from behind my hands.
‘Nothing. The hare is running around and Asha has just run in the opposite direction.’
I slid a hand back and poked out an eye. Asha sat down on her haunches, watching the hare, as if to say, What are you doing in my enclosure? Asha looked at me, confused, and then back to the hare.
Slowly, she got to her paws and crept towards it, her body low to the ground, her footsteps silent, eyes focused completely on the hare that hadn’t noticed her. When she got to within five metres, the hare looked up and dashed away from her into a bush.
Asha bolted and ran in the opposite direction.
‘I think we could be here for some time,’ Zach said. ‘We need to stop feeding her carcasses now to try and encourage her to catch what we put in the enclosure.’
My stomach churned at the thought as we sat down outside to keep a vigil.
Every now and then the hare would move, which seemed to spark Asha’s hunting instinct and she’d stalk it, but as soon as she realised the hare knew where she was, Asha bolted as far away from it as she could.
After two hours, we went inside for a cold drink. When we came back out, Asha was parading the dead hare around in her mouth like a trophy. When she saw us, she sat down to eat, shaking her head and spitting out fur, trying to get at the flesh with her teeth.
‘Thank God I missed it,’ I said.
Asha suddenly stopped eating and lifted her head up, ears flicking, eyes alert.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked her. ‘Got a bit of fur stuck in your teeth?’
She stood up, tilted her head, and walked to the opposite side of her enclosure, staring out into the distance.
‘She can sense something,’ I said.
A few minutes later, we heard a rumbling in the distance.
‘Is that thunder?’ I frowned.
A smile lit up Zach’s face. ‘No, it’s the annual wildebeest migration.’ He took hold of my hand and dragged me towards the Land Rover. ‘Come on, we have to get to the Masai Mara National Park. You have to see this. Nowhere else in the world is there such an immense migration of animals.’
We jumped in the Land Rover and took off, heading out of Kilingi.
‘Over two million wild animals migrate from the Serengeti National Park to the Masai Mara on their search for food and water. In the Serengeti, the short-grass plains will have dried out and they move towards the west. They’ll follow the same route every year.’
‘How do they know which way to go?’
‘Instinct that’s etched into their DNA over thousands of years. One of the most amazing sights is the migration trying to cross the Mara River alive. They have to make it past crocodiles and other predators that are lying in wait for them. The Masai Mara has the greatest density of lions in the world, and they’ll be ready to pick them off as the herds become panicked or injured in the crush.’
We drove onto the tarmac main road, Zach animatedly telling me more about the migration.
‘That sounds horrible. Poor things.’ I scrunched up my face.
‘It’s the ecosystem in action. An endless circle of life and death.’
‘How do they stand a chance if there are lots of predators waiting to pick them off?’
‘If they stay where they are in the Serengeti they’ll die of starvation. They have to migrate to survive, and they have more safety in numbers. You know, newborn wildebeest can run with the herd five minutes after birth and outrun a lion shortly after that.’
As we headed past Mumbi Game Reserve, in the distance the rumbling was getting louder and louder.
Eventually, we arrived at the entrance to the Masai Mara Reserve and found many other vehicles also trying to find a good spot to see the migration. We drove towards the river past plush, velvety looking vegetation. This was what the migration was looking for.
The plains were swarming with a moving sea of wildebeest, zebra, and gazelles. There must’ve been thousands of them, all running as fast as they could.
We parked the vehicle a safe distance away from the herds, opposite the banks of the river, so as not to get rammed in the process, and stared out at the magnificent sight.
‘That is amazing.’ I felt the smile on my face stretch from ear to ear. It was such a spectacular sight to see all these animals instinctively following this same path, year after year. The sheer numbers were just out of this world.
‘The animals are terrified. They have a fear of the water itself, and they know there are predators waiting to pick them off,’ Zach told me. ‘But they have to cross that river at any cost.’
I watched, stunned, as hundreds of animals built up along the banks of the river, searching to find an easy place to cross. The noise of the hooves and cries of the animals must’ve drowned out all other sounds for miles around.
Then they were trying to move away from the river, back in the direction they’d come, but there were too many animals blocking their path and the only way was forward, across the water. We watched for hours, entranced, as they tried to move back and then forth again.
Then finally, one climbed down the banks of the river and waded into the water, swimming for dear life to get to the other side in one piece. This prompted others to copy, and soon there were hundreds of them crossing in a thick wave of animals.
A crocodile, lying in wait, snapped one of the smaller wildebeest into its jaws, dragging it away from the rest in a death roll under the water.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, watching the wildebeest struggling for its life. Excited by the kill, another crocodile picked off a straggling wildebeest on the banks of the river. The poor animal was too busy trying to concentrate on following the herd and didn’t notice the predator until it was too late.
As hundreds of animals tried to cross, the banks of the river became so slippery that they were sliding down into the water on top of each other in a frenzy of bodies. Mothers were separated from calves and tried to swim frantically around to find them. Some were successful and were reunited, but others drowned or were picked off by predators.
‘It’s horrible to see all the ones that die,’ I said.
‘Thousands of them will die in the migration, but that only represents a small handful of the calves born each year. If this cycle of life and death didn’t happen, the wildebeest population would spiral out of control. This sums up exactly what it’s like to be in the wild. Every animal out here
lives for the moment because once you’ve survived the drought and the predators and the river,’ he pointed to the migration, ‘you have to savour every moment left.’
The sight was powerful. Sad, scary, magical, raw, and inspirational all rolled into one. I wafted a hand in front of my face, eyes watering with tears as I was overcome by a multitude of emotions. Every minute spent out in the bush was a unique experience. Some things only happened once in a lifetime. It really had a way of putting things into a new perspective.
‘Every time I see it, it still makes me feel so humble. It’s just breathtaking.’ He glanced at me and wiped a tear from my cheek with the back of his forefinger.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose and I sat there, staring deep into his eyes. He stared back. I’d just witnessed thousands of animals braving their greatest fear to cross the river in their fight for survival. If they could face how scared they felt about their future, and do it anyway, why shouldn’t I?
And in a crazy moment Dad’s words came into my head that I should talk about things more. Should I tell Zach how I felt?
I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out.
If I told him, it would be the end of our friendship, and I couldn’t let that happen. I needed him more than anything. He’d become my best friend. My only friend.
No, Dad was wrong.
I clamped my mouth shut and turned back to watch the migration, letting the moment float away and join an invisible ocean of other moments that we can never get back. Sometimes it was best to let things stay buried deep.
Chapter 20
For the next few months we threw ourselves into teaching Asha to kill prey in her enclosure. When she progressed from killing small prey we introduced her to baby warthogs, gazelles, and antelope. I still couldn’t watch her kill them when they didn’t have a chance of escaping from her. I knew she’d have to do it for real in the wild, but this still felt unfair. In nature it would be the sick or inexperienced or the young who got picked off by the predators. It was natural selection. I knew it was a necessity if we were going to be able to teach Asha effectively, but it was a conflict I couldn’t resolve so I left it up to Zach, living the scene from behind my hands as he told me what was going on.
‘I think she’s ready to try and hunt in the reserve,’ Zach said after a long and detailed monologue about how she’d just killed a small gazelle with a swift bite to the neck.
Its cries still echoed in my ears, and I shivered, even though it was another scorching African day.
‘Tomorrow we’ll take her out in the Land Rover to a spot where there’s some good prey and we’ll let her out and see what happens.’
I nodded reluctantly.
‘Come on, cheer up. This is a good thing.’
‘It’s not good for the poor gazelle.’ I jerked my head towards the enclosure.
‘I told you this wouldn’t be easy when you started it, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, Mr Know-it-all.’
‘Hah, you can talk, Miss Stubborn.’
‘I’m not stubborn. I’m focused and determined,’ I said haughtily.
‘Which is just a posh way of saying stubborn.’ He grinned. ‘Do you want to go for a walk? Asha will be stuffing her face for ages.’
‘OK.’
Zach got his rifle out of the Land Rover, slung the strap over his shoulder, and we headed to the soft sandy banks of the river, which was pretty busy with animals. A couple of giraffe lapped up the water, their legs splayed out in an inverted V shape as they bent down. I quickly checked for crocodiles but didn’t see their beady eyes poking out above the murky water or the telltale sign of their ripples. A troupe of baboons screeched noisily like a bunch of excited toddlers, playing at the water’s edge before spotting us and making a hasty exit.
A group of jackals was out hunting, sniffing around on the rocks by the river’s edge on the opposite side until the francolin birds floating on the water grabbed their attention. The jackals flattened their bodies onto the rocks, their mottled beige, grey, and black markings making them melt into perfect camouflage.
We sat down a short distance from the river, and Zach pulled his rifle off his shoulder and set it down on the ground between us.
‘Look, there’s a genet.’ Zach pointed across to the edge of the water that shimmered in the sun. A small, spotted creature that looked about the size of a cat but with a really long tail and a pointed face took a thirst-quenching drink. ‘It’s part of the mongoose family, but it looks more like a domestic cat, only longer.’
We watched it lap up the water, eyes darting around every now and then, checking for signs of danger.
‘A genet turned up at the lodge one day and didn’t want to leave,’ Zach said. ‘It used to come out of a hole in the rafters above the dining room at dinner time, giving the guests hours of evening entertainment. It stayed around for a couple of years and then one day it just vanished. Maybe that’s her.’
I could feel my eyes closing as I lay back and relaxed, listening to his voice.
‘And this was—’ Zach stopped talking as his radio crackled to life.
‘All units, we have a situation at…’ Richard spoke, but the reception wasn’t very good and his voice broke off with static.
‘Damn, we must be slightly out of range.’ Zach leaped up and walked a little way from the river. ‘Dad, come in, Dad. Can you repeat, please,’ he called urgently, his back to me.
More crackling, then the reception became crystal clear. Zach listened intently to the radio as Richard gave the coordinates of his location.
‘What’s the situation?’ Zach asked, but we didn’t get to hear the answer. A crashing sound echoed to my left and a hippo charged through the thick bushes, snorting and flapping his ears.
Distracted by the radio call, Zach took a few seconds to register what was going on.
I froze as the hippo charged. There were no trees to climb to get out of the way, and hippos could move pretty fast. If we didn’t get away from it, we’d be dead.
As Zach ran towards me, my brain suddenly kicked into gear. I grabbed his rifle from the ground, dislodged the safety catch in record time, and let off a warning shot in the air.
The sound echoed into the bush and the hippo turned tail and bolted back into the reeds as all the other animals scattered from the river in an instant.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to get my breath back, the adrenaline pumping through my body. ‘Wow. I thought we were going to be dead meat.’
Zach let out a flustered laugh of relief. ‘That was quick thinking.’
I exhaled heavily. ‘I panicked for a moment and then just instinctively grabbed the rifle.’
‘Well, you could’ve just saved our lives, so I think congratulations are in order.’
But I didn’t have time to be proud of myself or think about what could’ve happened if I hadn’t fired that shot because Dad’s voice came over the radio.
‘Richard, your radio reception’s terrible. What’s happened to Bella?’ The panic in Dad’s voice was palpable.
‘I don’t want to say on air,’ Richard said. ‘All units just get here now!’
Zach and I ran back to our quarters to pick up his Land Rover. As we jumped in and it lurched forward, an icy feeling of dread racked me to the core.
‘This doesn’t sound good.’ A deep, worried frown settled on Zach’s face.
My heartbeat thudded through my ribs and goosebumps covered my body. It had to be something really bad for Richard to call everyone out, and I could only think of one thing that would be bad enough.
We didn’t say anything else to each other on the bumpy drive. I don’t think either of us wanted to actually put our worry into words. If we didn’t speak it, it might not be true.
As we finally approached Richard’s location, we saw some vehicles already there. Richard and Dad, along with some of the other rangers and anti-poaching patrols stood looking at the body of a rhino on the ground.
We
screeched to a stop next to the others, and I saw Bella, lying on her side, legs crossed as if in a casual sleep, except Bella would never wake up from this nightmare. Half her face was missing, hacked open and reduced to mangled flesh and cartilage. Her horns had been crudely cut off. This majestic, ancient beast whose kind had walked the plains for thousands of years had been cruelly butchered. Blood pooled around her lifeless body, dried rivulets running into the ground like a river. Flies already swarmed over her, fighting for their share of her flesh, and the grotesque stench of death filled the air. Richard’s eyes were red-rimmed, and Dad had the same look of despair on his face that he had at Mum’s funeral.
I heard a loud scream and realised it was coming from me. My eyes instantly wet with tears, I couldn’t bear to look at the devastating scene in front of me. I threw my head in my hands and tugged at the roots of my hair as the sobs took hold of my body.
‘I heard a shot a minute ago,’ one of the rangers said. ‘The poachers could still be here.’
‘That was probably us,’ Zach said.
‘No, she wasn’t shot, she was darted,’ Richard said. ‘The bastards drugged her and waited until she went down.’
‘There’s so much blood, she was still alive when they hacked her face off and took her horns. They just left her to die,’ Dad said.
No! No, no, no!
I screamed inside, a hot white rage of fury and despair coursing through me.
I cried for the agonising death she must have suffered. The life she’d never have. The calf that would never be born. And all because someone, somewhere decided that greed was worth murdering her for. She had to die because they thought they were entitled to a piece of horn that was made of keratin, exactly the same stuff that was in human hair and fingernails and had no proven medicinal benefit at all. And the greed was like a cancer, chipping away at humanity so all we were left with was death, destruction, and blood money.
Chapter 21
