THE LADIES

Lions. We love them. The majesty of a male lion’s roar at sunset, the females joining in to proclaim their right over the Kaingo bushveld.

These two full-bellied ladies brought down a wildebeest near Mongoose Pan. The wildebeest probably did not know of the predators in the bush just shy of the water hole. The fight must have been quick, as the tracks of the scuffle did not indicate a huge struggle.

More of a struggle was the lions’ walking pace the next day!

A lion has a greatly expandable stomach. Scientist believe that an adult male lion can devour as much as 43 kilograms of meat a day. You read that right. Forty-three kilograms of meat. The ladies will eat as much as thirty kilograms. Looking at a lion that has eaten this much makes me hungry.
After a meal like this, a little naptime is in order. These ladies slept for a whole day, and most of the night, preventing anyone else from drinking at the waterhole. Early the next morning we were treated to a very uncomfortable amble away from the water’s edge to the treeline. To say that their bellies nearly dragged along the ground would be an understatement.

But more about the ladies.

These two are quite senior in years. The younger, but only by a whisker, is already sixteen, the older, seventeen. Lions have been known to live up to twenty years, in captivity. Out in the wild places of Africa, they tend not to become more than fifteen years old. Hunting your own prey, and surviving attempts on your own cubs at a hostile takeover of territory, are but two of the dangers to wild lions.

Like us (well, ok. Some of us, yours truly implied), they suffer the consequences of a life filled with danger and adventure. Scars abound, telling a story of a failed attempt at prey, maybe a success in defending the family. A closer look at the ladies will show exactly that.

The wrinkles on their noses speak not of age, but of experience. The folds on their skins of the vitality of life. Tattered ears of desperate hunts or headlong flight. With open mouths to cool the worst of the days heat to the brain, they rest.

Maybe, a bit later with the setting of the sun, they will move to another sleeping spot. Playfully bat each other about the head and rub their necks against each other, like good friends do. And then, sleep.

For tomorrow is a new day.

BUSHVELD GREETINGS