Grand Theft Safari

by Precious McKenzie

  As I drifted off to sleep, the brilliant stars twinkled in the dark sky. Mom, Dad, Tomas, and Nigel sat around the campfire. Nigel had a guitar. He strummed the guitar and sang under the stars. I was soon fast asleep.

  Chapter Three

  HOT AIR BALLOON

  The next morning, Nigel and Mom sat hunched over a table, studying some maps.

  “Good morning, sleepy head,” Mom said with a smile.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked. Tomas and Dad were nowhere to be found.

  “Tomi and Dad went for a walk. They didn’t want to wake you. You seemed worn out yesterday.”

  I rubbed my eyes. Mom was right. But I felt much better this morning.

  “All of the travel and excitement must have caught up with you yesterday,” Mom said. “Are you ready for fun today?”

  “After breakfast,” I said.

  “There’s a plate of Spam and eggs for you in the supply tent. It’s probably still warm,” Nigel said.

  I found the plate and sat near the campfire ring. Normally, I didn’t care for Spam. Out here, far away from grocery stores, I couldn’t be picky about what I wanted to eat. If you didn’t eat it, you’d go hungry. It was that simple.

  As I finished my breakfast, Tomas, Dad, and Elea came bouncing through the tall grass.

  “Mari!” Tomas yelled, “We saw a giraffe! It was so awesome!”

  Elea ran to me. She curled up next to me and nudged my hand to tell me to pet her.

  “Mari, there’s so much to explore out there. You’re going to love it,” Dad said.

  Mom joined us by the fire. “Who’s going up in the hot air balloon with me and Nigel?”

  “Hot air balloon?” Dad asked. His facial expression said No way. He didn’t like boats or heights.

  “Yes,” Mom said, “we’re flying over Maasai Mara to get a bird’s eye view. I want to track the watering habits of the big cats. I need to record their habits to see how they fit into the habits of the other animals in the ecosystem.”

  “I thought you only wanted to study the flamingoes,” Tomas said.

  “I need a better idea of how they all work together,” Mom said. “Besides, a hot air balloon ride sounds fun.”

  “Count me in,” I said.

  “Not me,” Tomas spoke up. He didn’t like heights either.

  Dad patted Tomas on the back. “We’ll stay here on the ground.”

  “Elea will stay at camp with you.” Nigel paused a moment and looked seriously at Dad. “Come with me, Mr. Perez. I want to make sure you know how to use a gun.”

  Nigel led Dad away from the tents.

  “What’s that all about?” Tomas asked.

  “Nigel needs to make sure that someone at camp can use a gun in case of emergencies,” Mom said. She looked serious.

  “Lions?” I asked.

  “Possibly. Or poachers,” Mom said. “This is the wilderness. It is best to be prepared.”

  We heard five or six gunshots from a distance.

  Tomas looked just as scared as I felt.

  Dad and Nigel walked back into camp.

  “He did fine,” Nigel said as he gave Dad a friendly slap on the shoulder. “I think he can scare off a lion if one wandered into camp.”

  Mom, Nigel, and I hopped into the truck and met up with a hot air balloon crew about ten miles away.

  Aziz, our pilot, gave us a quick safety lesson.

  “Hop in the basket,” Aziz told us.

  Before I knew it, we were floating just above the grass, then we gently rose higher. Soon we were floating across the savannah. I saw our campsite below us. Dad and Tomas sat in camp chairs, reading. I shouted and waved to them as we drifted over their heads. They waved back. Tomas took a picture of us.

  We floated over the plains until Mom saw a river.

  “Let’s land there to look for signs of flamingoes.” Mom pointed to the river bank.

  Aziz lowered the balloon and the basket bounced to the ground.

  “Follow me,” Mom said. Aziz stayed with the balloon. Nigel came along with me and Mom.

  Mom walked slowly near the water’s edge, looking for telltale signs of flamingoes.

  “Do you think flamingoes were here?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I bet they prefer Lake Bogoria and Lake Nakuru, northeast of us. The water chemistry is different in the lakes.”

  As Mom bent over her notebook, recording her observations, a massive movement exploded behind us.

  “Croc!” Nigel yelled.

  A giant crocodile rushed the river bank. I stumbled backward, trying to get away from the water as fast as I could. My boots got stuck in the mud. Mom bumped into me, falling into the mud.

  The crocodile was out of the water now, its sharp teeth sparkling in the sunlight. From the top of the riverbank, Nigel let out a low groan. Mom and I were paralyzed with the fear. The crocodile stared into our eyes. In a slow, calm voice, Nigel said, “There’s four more in the water.”

  I lifted my gaze from the crocodile and saw that Nigel wasn’t joking. Four crocodiles were closing in on us. I knew they were ready to feast on us, too.

  Mom whispered, “Mari, on the count of three, run as fast as you can up the riverbank.”

  Mom stared at the croc. “One. Two. Three, go.”

  As I turned to run up the bank, I felt Mom’s hand on my back, giving me a hard shove up the bank. I scrambled up the bank, flinging mud as I went. Mom was right behind me. I heard the croc’s jaws snapping. I could smell its hot, foul breath.

  I almost made it to Nigel when Mom screamed in terror. The crocodile had grabbed the back of Mom’s coat. In a split second, Nigel grabbed my arm and yanked me behind him. Nigel stepped forward and shouted at Mom, “Carolina! Stop! Wiggle out of your coat!”

  The crocodile was huge and terrifyingly strong. With Mom’s coat in its mouth, it shook her back and forth.

  “Wiggle, Mom, wiggle!” I screamed.

  She heard us. As the crocodile shook her one way, she wiggled one arm out of the coat. The other crocodiles climbed out of the water, edging closer to Mom.

  “Now turn and run!” Nigel yelled. Nigel fired a shot at the crocodiles. Two dove back into the water.

  Mom twisted her body around, wiggled her other arm out of the coat, and ran up the river bank. When she reached us, she was pale and shaking. The crocodile flung her coat around on the shore, tearing it with its teeth and claws. Nigel fired another shot at the crocodile, to scare the rest of them back into the water.

  I tackled Mom and wrapped my arms around her. I thought she was going to die down there. Tears ran down my face. Nigel grabbed our arms. “Get up. We need to get away from the water. We don’t need the other crocs following us up here. Get back to the balloon.”

  Nigel shouted to Aziz as we ran back toward him, “Fire up the balloon! Crocs!”

  Aziz wasted no time. We jumped into the basket and it lifted us into the sky.

  Mom reached over and hugged me tightly. I started crying again. She squeezed me. “That was a close call. But we’re okay, sweetie. We’re okay.” Even though she said everything was okay, I could feel Mom trembling as she hugged me tightly.

  By the time we flew back to camp, I had stopped crying. Mom was more relaxed too.

  Dad must have been able to tell that something bad had happened because he came running as soon as he saw Mom. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  Nigel explained the close encounter with the crocodiles.

  “Alberto, we’re fine,” Mom said. “It didn’t have me. It had my coat.”

  “That is too close!” Dad shouted. “What if it had grabbed Marisol?”

  “Alberto, please, settle down. It didn’t get Marisol. And I had a way to get out. We worked together as a team. We’re all right.”

  Nigel nodded to reassure Dad.

  “I think we’re in over our heads in Africa,” Dad grumbled as he stormed off to his tent.

  I looked at Mom. Dad was usually m
ild mannered. This was not like him.

  “Honey,” she said to me, “he’s just worried, scared he could have lost us. Give him some time. He’ll settle down.”

  “Do you think we’re in over our heads here? Should we pack it up and go home?” I asked her. We’d been on lots of research trips in the wild with Mom before. Never had we come this close to dying.

  “No, I don’t think we should pack it up. Or give up. We made a silly mistake by the water. Now we know. We’ll be more careful in the future.”

  Chapter Four

  ZEBRAS!

  Nigel suggested we hike through the grasslands, far away from the river, to photograph animals. He said this would be fun and take Dad’s mind off of the crocodile attack.

  We packed our water, loaded the rifles, and followed Nigel into the tall grass. Elea led the way, wagging her tail as we followed her along the foot path.

  “Stay together. We don’t need a lion pride getting between us,” Nigel advised.

  Dad looked nervously at Nigel.

  “Alberto,” Nigel said to Dad, “We’re just being prepared. Where there’s zebras there’s always a chance of a lion.”

  We hiked for about an hour before we found a herd of zebras, grazing on the savannah.

  “Awesome,” I whispered so I wouldn’t startle the zebras.

  “Take a picture,” Tomas whispered to me.

  I snapped a few photos. Young zebras trotted around the center of the herd, biting and kicking at one another.

  “Looks like the young ones are playing,” Nigel laughed.

  One zebra gave a high-pitched cry. The others looked up, noses in the wind. The herd was still. The lone zebra gave the cry again, only this time louder and more urgent.

  Nigel turned to us. “Something’s out there. Be still.” He had his gun ready and passed his binoculars to me.

  A tawny lion sprang from the grass, rushing the herd. The zebras galloped toward to the east. Another lion came up on the right, pursuing the herd. Then another sprang from the left. The lions were closing in on the herd.

  “Run,” I screamed at the zebras, “run!”

  “Shush,” Mom whispered, motioning toward me.

  I didn’t want the zebras to die.

  “It’s the law of nature. The lions will catch the slowest or the weakest.” Mom said. I knew that but I didn’t want to see it.

  A female lion lunged at a slower zebra at the rear of the herd. Its claws dug into the zebra’s flesh. The zebra screamed as the lion pulled the zebra to the ground. The rest of the herd continued to flee but the lions circled back to feast.

  I turned away because I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn’t watch anymore.

  “Let’s go in the opposite direction. We don’t need to disturb the lions,” Nigel said.

  “Marisol,” Nigel asked me as we walked away, “What is the matter?”

  “I can’t believe we just stood by and let that happen to the poor zebra,” I said.

  “Everyone must eat,” he said. “The lions take the slowest, weakest, or oldest.”

  I nodded my head because I understood but I still didn’t like it.

  “The lions only take what they need to survive and feed their cubs. By eating the weakest of the zebras, it also keeps the zebra herd stronger,” he explained.

  “I know that. I learned about the food chain a long time ago,” I said sharply. “I just didn’t really want to see it in action.”

  Dad put his arm around my shoulder as we headed back to camp. As we got closer, Elea began to bark excitedly.

  “Go girl,” Nigel told her. Elea ran ahead.

  “She smells something out of the ordinary,” Nigel told us. “Let’s see what she finds.”

  We walked quietly back to camp, only to find Elea lying by the fire pit, whining.

  “What is it, girl?” I asked the dog. She stared at our group of tents. I didn’t see anything.

  “Let’s go find out what’s back there,” Tomas whispered to me.

  We crept quietly to the tents. I heard what sounded like licking noises. We peeked around our tent. Just behind our tent, a mother zebra was licking her newborn foal.

  “Mari, look at that! It looks brand new,” Tomas said.

  The mother zebra saw us and flicked her ears at us.

  “It’s okay, girl,” I said calmly to the zebra. She was probably too exhausted to run. The baby wasn’t even standing yet.

  Tomas and I backed away so as not to scare the pair. The mother continued licking the foal, cleaning it. Soon the newborn stretched its long legs and wobbled around, trying to walk.

  “It is so beautiful,” I said quietly.

  Mom walked up behind us, admiring the beautiful newborn zebra and doting mother.

  “Just think,” Mom whispered, “those lions could have gotten this one.”

  I knew what she meant. Because the lions caught an old, slow zebra, the lions would not be hungry for a while, giving this mother zebra and baby zebra a chance to grow strong and survive.

  Chapter Five

  GIRAFFE ENCOUNTER

  Mom spent the next few days recording field data. After the lion attack, Tomas and I thought it best to stay close to camp. Nigel needed to drive to the field station to pick up supplies and food. My brother and I thought it would be fun to tag along with him.

  The truck bounced across the grassland, narrowly missing ruts and rocks. Nearing a patch of trees, Nigel stopped the truck. He looked through his binoculars.

  “A-ha!” He smiled. “You children are in luck.” He passed the binoculars to me.

  I looked through the lenses. “Giraffes!”

  “I want to see! I want to see!” Tomas shouted, grabbing the binoculars from my hands.

  “Let’s see if we can get closer,” Nigel suggested as he hopped down from the truck.

  Tomas and I followed behind him.

  “Be quiet and calm. You might get very close,” Nigel whispered.

  The giraffes plucked the leaves from the tree branches with their tongues. Three smaller giraffes trailed behind three larger adults. “Probably mamas with their babies,” Tomas said.

  “What a funny walk,” I remarked.

  Tomas gave me an amused look. “If you had legs a mile long and a neck like that, you’d walk funny too.” We giggled. The giraffes did have an unusual, almost swinging walk. But it was graceful in its own way.

  Nigel let us watch the giraffes graze a little longer until we needed to get back to the truck. Nigel wanted to make it to the field station and be back to camp before night fall.

  When we got to the field station, the park ranger helped us load dry goods and water canisters onto our truck.

  “I hear the elephants are on the move,” the ranger told Nigel. “Watch out for the lone bulls.”

  Nigel nodded his head.

  “How is your ammo supply?” he asked Nigel.

  “Fine. I haven’t had to use too much.”

  “Good, good,” the ranger said. “Keep the children close to you, just in case.”

  “Will do,” Nigel assured the park ranger.

  Tomas got closer to me. He whispered in my ear, “Is Nigel going to shoot an elephant?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. Isn’t that illegal? Aren’t elephants endangered?”

  “Why did that ranger want to sell you more ammo? To shoot elephants?” Tomas asked Nigel as we headed back to camp.

  “Oh no, Tomas.” Nigel chuckled. “To shoot poachers.”

  “Poachers?”

  “Yes, sir. When the rangers notice the elephants on a strange move, they know something is going on out there. But poachers are sneaky and hard to catch,” Nigel answered.

  I read the newspapers. I know how horrible poachers are. Men with large machine guns stalk elephants. The men destroy entire herds. They take only the ivory tusks, leaving dead elephants scattered on the savannah. The ivory is then sold illegally all over the world. Scientists think that if the poaching doesn�
�t end, elephants will be extinct in some parts of Africa in fifty years.

  “Are you going out to shoot the poachers?” Tomas asked.

  “No,” Nigel said. “That is not my job. I am not law enforcement. But, we must be prepared. If we come across poachers, they may shoot us. We might have to defend ourselves.”

  “Why would they shoot us? We’re not elephants?” asked Tomas.

  “True. But we could easily report them to law enforcement,” Nigel said.

  “Dead men tell no tales,” I said.

  Nigel nodded. “Yes, that’s the poachers’ philosophy.” Nigel looked at the horizon. “We’d better hurry. It will be dark soon.”

  We saw the giraffes on our way back to camp. They were moving in another direction. But I knew it was the same group we saw earlier. The three long-legged babies trailed behind the group.

  Mom, Dad, and Elea were happy when we made it back to camp.

  “We had visitors at camp today,” Dad told Nigel.

  Nigel looked surprised. “Who? There’s not another research team around for a hundred miles.”

  “A rough-looking bunch. Had machine guns. Tried to push us around a little bit. I tried to tell them we’re just doing bird research,” Dad said.

  “They nosed around the tents. They didn’t take anything, at least that I know of,” Mom said.

  “Did you have your guns?” Nigel asked.

  “You bet. I let them see it strapped to my belt,” Dad answered. “Carolina offered them tea and biscuits, so as to seem nonthreatening and friendly. They were edgy. Nervous.”

  Nigel nodded thoughtfully. “Did they have trucks?”

  “Not that we saw,” Mom said. “But how else could they have gotten out here?”

  “I think you met the poachers,” Nigel said.

  “That’s what I suspected,” Mom said.

  “I’m going to radio the field station and let the rangers know what happened. They’ll send a squad out. Until then, nobody leaves camp,” Nigel said.

  Tomas spoke up. “We’ve got guns. Let’s go get those poachers before they can get the elephants.”

  Nigel shook his head. “No, young man, these poachers form groups like small armies. Let the authorities fight them. Law enforcement has much more training than you do.” Nigel patted Tomas on the back.