Not the Three Little Pigs…
We all know the tale of the 3 little pigs…this is not that story.
“Shhh…listen…way off to the west…impala alarm-calling!”…and with that we turned the Landy away from the sun’s imminent breach of the horizon and embarked on our quest to locate the source of the impala’s concern.
Slowly driving in the general direction, occasionally switching off to listen, we excitedly noticed that we were closing in on the snorting…any second now the mystery will be revealed.
There!
A lithe solo lioness.
Bathed in a golden glow she stood proud of the landscape scanning for breakfast.
All the impala in the immediate vicinity were already alert to her presence, shifting them off the menu. She indifferently turned around, crossed right behind our vehicle and with ears pricked forward, headed straight for an old abandoned termite-mound with intent.
Peering down the large aperture of an old aardvark excavation, the lioness cocked her head in silence, this way…then that way…
Aardvark, warthog and porcupine (all great meals for lion) often while some time in these burrows which usually afford shelter from predators…and one of those were still home. This we surmised because the lioness started scraping away some of the soil laying at the entrance and wasteful or futile expenditure of any amount of energy without a reasonable chance of replenishment, just doesn’t happen.
Initially thrilled, we watched as she very intently kept digging and digging at the entrance. Puffs of dust drifting on the breeze marked her slow but steady progress. With each swipe more and more soil shifted, sometimes even fist-sized clods went rocketing through the sky in an arc high above.
Every so often she would cease her excavation to pantingly take a short break, all the while peering into the darkness of the burrow. This prompted speculation as to who might be the object of her attention. The likelihood of her going through this much trouble for a prickly porcupine who would be capable of defending itself was unlikely…leaving an aardvark which returned to hide out for the day or possibly warthog which haven’t gotten out of bed yet.
By now an hour had passed and other vehicles had come and gone, we had a choice to make. Do we head off to “make the most” of our last remaining drive before heading up to Makuleke or do we commit to seeing this through despite the chances of there not being an outcome at all…we opted for the latter.
With renewed fervour she engaged again and rotating around the entrance digging from all directions, both excited anticipation and morbid trepidation grew. On the one side we really hoped that the lioness succeeds in securing a meal for herself which would also assist her 3 growing cubs…but on the other hand we had empathy with whomever is trapped in the burrow…knowing that with every scoop, death is more imminent.
Between bouts of digging the lioness would crouch all the way down into the opening and sit attentively…listening and watching. A few times she would lightningly fast reach inside the burrow as if she managed to get hold of her quarry…only to retreat empty-handed.
Her continued insistence in expending energy of massive proportions indicated to us that she was convinced that it would be recouped.
Fast running out of time as we still had a few hours of driving to our next destination, we almost gave it up, when suddenly there was a thundering eruption from the burrow and in a volcano of dust and sand, two young warthogs appeared as if lightning bolts!
Things happened so fast that it wasn’t until reviewing the images at camp, that the full extent of reality was revealed. Looking at the image below, imagine the absolute terror of the piglet in the lioness’s jaws, now certain of the imminence of death, but also the equal terror in the piglet on the left bursting through the dust-cloud, unable to see what’s ahead…more lions in wait?!
As however can be seen in the sequence of images below, the second piggy was extremely lucky and managed to sprint away to live another day.
The first piggy had no chance, the lioness immediately dragged it out of the burrow, repositioned and clamped down on the trachea…it didn’t take long.
This is the way it has always been and is meant to be.
Macabre and morbid as it was, the experience of witnessing the tenacity and the skill, the terror of survival and death, also brought home the harsh reality of existence. Survival of the fittest does not necessarily apply to the individual, it pertains to the species as a collective. Sometimes fit individuals (healthy/alert) are just S.O.L.
We (humans) are not separate from this reality and a sober evaluation of our lives should prompt acceptance of the inevitable as well as grateful appreciation for the opportunities we are afforded along our path.
Yours in sober contemplation,