by Joy Adamson
Soon after dark I felt something brush against my car – it was Jespah. Silently he went straight to the crates, apparently unperturbed by finding a second car on the scene. He ate two of the titbits containing terramycin and then walked over to George, who was standing outside his car holding out a pie dish of cod-liver oil. The cub licked it clean and then returned to his dinner. He showed no surprise at seeing me, and when I called ‘Cucucoo’ very softly, only cocked his ears for a moment and then went on with his meal. He had grown enormously and filled out, though he remained, like Elsa, a lion of slender build. The arrow was clearly visible under the skin of his rump, and the open wound was discharging a little, but it was not swollen and looked clean. From time to time he sat down and licked it. I was glad that it did not seem to hinder his movements.
Suddenly I heard a rustling in a bush behind my car and, flashing my torch, caught a glimpse of Gopa, some twenty yards away. For a quarter of an hour he remained there in hiding, then he was joined by Little Elsa. I called ‘Cucucoo’ to them, but so far from encouraging them, this caused Gopa to bolt twice, but in the end he could not resist the smell of the meat and cautiously sneaked up to the crates. He ate the lumps of meat and cleared out both pie dishes of cod-liver oil before he started on the carcase. Little Elsa was extremely shy, and it was long after midnight before she ventured to approach the crates. By then all the terramycin and the cod-liver oil had been eaten by her brothers.
All the cubs were in good condition. Having seen the photographs George had taken of them when he had first found them on the Tana, which showed them as pathetic skeletons, I realized what an incredible job he had done. That they were now in splendid health and that their trust in us had been restored was entirely due to his patience and ingenuity. We watched them eating until 4 a.m. when they departed with heavy bellies.
Next morning we were obliged to send Ibrahim to Isiolo with urgent mail; the weather looked forbidding and we could only hope that he would not be too long delayed by his 400-mile journey over slippery tracks.
That evening the cubs did not appear. We tried not to worry by reminding ourselves that after last night’s large dinner they did not need one this evening. During the night I heard a lion roar. We could not go out spooring next morning because heavy rain had washed away all pugmarks. I was relieved when Jespah arrived at dark; but he paid us only a fleeting visit and about an hour later I heard him calling from far away. Meanwhile Gopa had put in a short appearance and hearing the call – trotted off. Eventually all three cubs arrived. Soon afterwards a lion roared, but they paid no attention to him. Jespah and Little Elsa were inside separate crates busy with their dinner. Gopa visited them in turn, but finding himself unwelcome, sat down sulkily at the entrance to the third crate. Would he enter it? Should we be able to release the trap-doors and capture the cubs? The suspense was nerve-racking and increased by our fear that the lion we had recently heard might in time induce the cubs to follow him. If they did we should be unable to protect them from the death warrant or from the tribesmen’s arrows.
The following night we again had cause to worry for at the first roar the cubs stopped eating, listened intently, dropped the meat and rushed off in the direction from which the calls came. They all returned later to finish their meal; but we could not help wondering whether they would always come back.
Ibrahim returned with the news that the new Bedford would not be ready for ten days. Another new worry was that whenever heavy rains fell – and they fell frequently – the roads were now to be officially closed to traffic.
Meanwhile our trackers had come in and reported that the cubs’ spoor led in the direction of the wild lion. If we waited for the weather to improve and for the Bedford to arrive when the roads were reopened, the cubs might well by then have wandered off with the local lion and run into disaster.
That night they did not appear. I could imagine them having fun with their new friend, but I could also visualize the period of their reprieve running out. The one good factor was that in our area it had not rained for two days. The official closing of the roads operated on the basis of local conditions so that, if the rain held off and if the cubs did enter the crates, the weather at least would not prevent us from moving them from this area.
We spent the day improving the trapping device, rehearsing our parts in the capture and sharpening the scalpel with which George hoped to extract the arrowhead. In spite of these occupations the hours seemed to drag until it was time to sit up for the cubs.
I had barely finished putting the terramycin into the meat lumps when Jespah appeared. He ate two of them and then came and sat in front of our cars and watched us. Meanwhile his brother and sister entered separate crates. A little later they came out and lay near Jespah. They looked very lovely in the bright moonlight and I longed to remove them from the dangers which were increasing. But as if to mock me, the lion chose this moment to roar, and the cubs went off like a flash. I heard a hearty curse from George’s car; another of the few remaining nights was lost. Resigned, I went to lie on my bed, asking George to call me when it was my turn to keep watch, or before that, if anything should happen. I felt very depressed but was so tired that I dozed off.
Suddenly I was woken by the crashing of the crate doors. A deathly silence followed; it was as if all life had suddenly stopped. After a short time the struggle inside the crates began. Simultaneously George and I ran to them, quickly removed the wooden blocks we had placed below the doors to prevent any damage to protruding tails, and closed the narrow slits so as to remove any opportunity for leverage and make an attempt to escape impossible.
Although it was an immense relief to know that the cubs were now safe, both George and I felt disgusted at the deception we had practised on them. Very grateful for the way in which George, single-handed, had effected the difficult capture, I kissed him, but he only gave a sad smile.
33. The Journey to the Serengeti
Now there was no time to lose if we wished to reduce the cubs’ time of discomfort and bewilderment to a minimum. George remained on guard and I went back to camp, woke the men, told them the news, then, together, we hurriedly packed up, so as to be ready to hoist the cubs on to the truck at first light.
Dawn crept across the still moonlit sky and a new day began which was to mark a great change in all our lives.
When all was ready we drove the five-ton Bedford to the crates. George told me that after Jespah had recovered from the shock of finding himself trapped, he had calmed down and spent most of the night sitting quietly in his box. Little Elsa had followed his example, but Gopa had gone on fighting for a long time. Now he was growling savagely at our boys, who had come to help in hoisting the crates on to the truck.
Although we had told the tribesmen not to come near the lions, a chattering crowd soon collected. This terrified Gopa, who in his struggles broke one of the ceiling planks of his cage and split two others. We immediately covered the gap with a groundsheet, fixed iron bars across it and tied them on with thick ropes. Then we hoisted the crates, each of which weighed well over 800 lb. During this operation the Africans to induce the necessary impetus shouted in rhythm, which terrified the excited cubs. As the heavy boxes, lifted by block and tackle, dangled in the air, the horrified lions paced to and fro, causing the crates to sway alarmingly. We hoisted Little Elsa first; her crate placed lengthwise to the side of the truck filled half its breadth. Gopa we placed alongside her, and his crate filled the other half. Both their wooden doors faced the back of the driver’s cab. Jespah’s crate we placed broadside across the end of the lorry. In this way the cubs had the fullest view of each other, only separated by the bars of the cages. It also had the advantage of making it possible to get at Jespah easily from the rear of the truck, so that we could try to extract his arrowhead as soon as an opportunity arose. For the moment there was no question of operating on him, as he was far too excited, but we hoped that later on either we or a vet might be able to remove it.
In their present state the cubs would not touch any food, so there was no chance of giving them tranquillizers. Luckily we knew that they had all had a good meal, and we had secured meat in each crate, as well as a water container which we refilled before covering the lorry with a groundsheet to protect the cubs from any low branches which might hit the truck during the journey.
We were ready to move; I took a last look to make sure that everything was in order: Jespah’s expression of despair was almost unendurable. Leaving the jabbering crowd behind, we proceeded in convoy.
The first fourteen miles were very rough, the trucks bumping over boulders as they wound their way through dense shrub along the newly cut track. In spite of the shaking the cubs lay down and took the drive well.
We found the river still in flood, but just fordable. My Land Rover and the lion lorry crossed safely, but messed up the banks so badly that the other cars couldn’t make the gradient and had to be towed by the lion truck.
Heavy rain clouds were gathering on every side; we were surrounded by a threatening black wall. Skidding through mud, we raced this colossal storm for sixty miles and won only by a hair’s breadth. At dusk we reached the District HQ, left a message for the District Commissioner telling him our good news, and then pressed on.
When we passed the boundary of the district I took a very deep breath: the cubs were now outside the jurisdiction of the death sentence. Looking back at the deluge which was following close behind us, I realized how narrowly we had escaped being imprisoned by floods.
Altogether we had about 700 miles to travel. From now on most of the way lay through highlands which rose to 7,500 feet. We had started at an elevation of 1,200 feet, and had now reached an altitude of 7,000 feet. Although we were actually crossing the Equator, it was bitterly cold. Above us, Mount Kenya’s ragged, ice-covered peaks rose to 17,000 feet; they were covered with heavy cloud and drizzling rain fell upon us as we went along its base.
Up to now our little convoy had kept close together, and if one vehicle lagged behind we waited for it. It was nine in the evening before we reached a little township where there was the vet who might be able to operate on Jespah.
Even though the hour was so late, John Berger very kindly offered to try to extract the arrowhead there and then; but he was unable to do so because Jespah, when he saw the stranger, got into a rage and would not allow him to come near enough to administer the anaesthetic. The vet comforted me by saying that he thought if we waited for two or three weeks the arrow might well slough out by itself. In any case, the wound was only skin-deep, looked perfectly healthy and was not interfering with any vital function. In case the arrow did not come out of itself, he lent me some extra long bullet forceps, gave me some antiseptic, and suggested that we might be able to pull it out later on, if Jespah allowed us to perform the operation. We gratefully accepted the vet’s offer of coffee, as we had had nothing to eat or drink since breakfast.
Warmed up, we pushed on. The weather got worse, the drizzling rain turned to a real downpour and it became icy cold. We stopped often to fasten the flapping tarpaulins to the cubs’ lorry, and I felt very sorry for them when I saw them crouching in the farthest corners trying to avoid the drenching rain. All through the night we were at an altitude of 5,000 feet, and I feared they might develop pneumonia. Twice we were held up by Askaris (African police) who were searching for a criminal, and it took us some time to convince them that there was no one concealed in our lorries – only three lions who had never harmed a human being.
We reached Nairobi at 3 a.m. and filled up the tanks. When the sleepy staff at the petrol station saw our lions they seemed to think they must be dreaming, and I didn’t like to imagine what our passage through towns during daylight was going to be like.
The hours between 3 a.m. and daylight were a great strain on all of us. As we crossed the Kajiado Plain there were gusts of icy wind and several cloudbursts. Our drivers were worn out by their efforts to keep their vehicles on the slippery road. I took over from George, who couldn’t keep his eyes open. This part of the journey must have been torture to the cubs.
Dawn found us a few miles short of Namanga, close to the Tanganyika border. Here we allowed ourselves a brief rest and warmed ourselves with hot tea. The cubs were completely exhausted and lay apathetically in their cages, their faces chafed by the constant friction against the bars. The meat inside the crates was very high and covered with maggots, so we tried to remove it with iron scrapers which we had equipped ourselves with for the purpose, but the carcases had been so securely fastened to the bars that we could not move them. All we could do was to give the cubs fresh meat and water, in which they showed no interest.
To reduce the length of their misery as much as we could we decided that I should drive full speed ahead to Arusha, a hundred miles distant, announce our arrival to the Director of the National Parks, and find out the location of the release point in the Serengeti. (Because our move was taking place over a weekend, we had had no chance of sending a warning telegram.) George would follow with the cubs at a slower pace and we would meet at a short distance outside the town, where we should avoid a crowd of curious spectators.
It was a lovely morning, and I watched last night’s clouds disperse, to disclose Mount Kilimanjaro rising above the early mist. Its cap of newly fallen snow looked so ethereal in the soft morning light that it was difficult to believe that it was a glacier-crowned volcano. I have often admired Kilimanjaro from a distance, and I have climbed to its summit, but today more than ever it seemed a manifestation of glory, remote from the troubled world of man; part of the grandeur of an unspoiled creation of which animals were an integral part. With this thought in my mind, I was sorry to see only three giraffe and a few impala antelope on plains where a few years ago wild life abounded. The increasing traffic along the new tarmac road had driven the animals away, and I reflected that at the moment I myself was one of these destructive motorists; but at least my presence was justified by the hope of providing the cubs with a natural life, unthreatened by man. I thought too that the length of time during which sanctuaries such as the national parks will be able to give refuge to wild animals will depend not only on the sympathy and active help of a few dedicated people, but on the support of all who live in Africa, whatever their race may be. This made me all the more determined to use the money coming to me from the sale of books about Elsa and her cubs to subsidize preservation schemes.
At Arusha, I saw the Director of the National Parks and we discussed the locality of the release point. I was surprised when he suggested Seronera as it is the HQ of the park and where all the park staff live and is also a centre for tourists. I pleaded for a more remote location, and the director agreed that we might take them farther afield to an area near a river which never went dry. He very kindly promised to send a radio message to one of the park wardens asking him to meet us on our way and guide us to this spot. He also offered us any further help we might need.
After leaving the director it took me five hours to find George who had driven the lorry sixty miles beyond Arusha. This meant that we should not be able to reach the Serengeti by nightfall; so we camped at Mtu-Ya-Umbu at the foot of the Manyara escarpment.
The cubs were in a pitiful state. Their faces were bruised and battered and the bony parts of their bodies were chafed; the decomposing meat inside the crates attracted a swarm of bluebottles which buzzed over their sores. They tried unsuccessfully to protect themselves by putting their paws over their faces; I could not bear to watch their suffering.
As the men were as tired as the rest of us, we decided not to pitch camp, and slept in the open. George and I put our beds close to the crates, and all through the night I heard the cubs moving about restlessly. At first light I roused the camp, which did not make me popular, but I was determined that the cubs should be released from their misery as soon as possible.
Soon, as we began to climb up the escarpment which towered above us, we saw Lake Manyara, until now hidd
en from our view by miles of virgin forest. This lake is one of the great attractions of Tanganyika. Its shallows are covered with flamingos and other water fowl, while out of the lush forest elephant, buffalo and lion come to drink its waters.
We had no time to enjoy these sights for the sky was overcast and small showers warned us of more rain to come. Concentrating on speed, we climbed steadily into the ‘Highlands of the Giant Volcanoes’. Unfortunately, drizzling rain soon reduced visibility to a few yards, so we were unable to see the volcanoes and Ngorongoro, the world’s largest crater, which has a diameter of ten miles. We could only guess at the steep gradient of the slopes into which the road was cut by seeing, level with its verge, the tops of giant lobelias, a plant which grows to a height of nine feet.
The higher we climbed, the thicker the fog grew and it began to penetrate icily through our clothes. The men, who had never been at such a high altitude, looked blue under their dark African skins. Many droppings told us that this was not only a highway of tourists but also for buffalo, elephant and other wild beasts, and once an elephant stepped out of the thick bush and we had to stop abruptly.
At last we reached the rim of the Ngorongoro crater. On an earlier visit, I had looked down it and seen a multitude of game grazing some 1,500 feet below, but today nothing was visible but billowing clouds. For a few miles we crawled cautiously along the slippery road round the rim, then, all of a sudden, the mist lifted; it was as though a curtain had suddenly been raised on a new scene and we saw, far below us, the Serengeti Plain bathed in warm sunlight.
Ahead of us lay undulating slopes, so profusely covered with bright yellow senecios that they might have been made of gold. Among this mass of flowers grazed great herds of zebra, wildebeest, Thomson’s gazelle and cattle herded by Masai tribesmen. It was strange to see wild and domestic animals feeding side by side, a circumstance only made possible by the fact that the Masai do not poach ungulates.