TO WALK WITH LIONS

Let me say at the outset that I am not a thrill seeker.  Please note that I did NOT say, “nor have I ever been,” although I would contend that the latter statement is true.  Admittedly, some could cite meager evidence to the contrary in the distant past.   I have been known to jump off a bridge into the alligator gar infested Tres Palacios River.  I did scuba dive once in Jacob’s Well, a cave that has subsequently been closed due to a few deaths.  But I doubt that I would have parachuted out of a plane during my freshman year in college, even if my father had agreed to fund me the $100.  I think I would have chickened out at the last minute, gazing out the door of the plane.  And please note that I have never ridden on an oil well pump or walked across a river on a natural gas pipeline.  I do have some limits.

My point is, I am not addicted to adrenaline rush.  I just like to do interesting things, and sometimes my curiosity leads me to distort the risk/benefit ratio of an activity.

We were not seeking thrills when we decided to walk with lions.  My husband and I were visiting Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, a weekend break from our volunteer work in Tanzania.  A travel agent friend had booked us for four nights, and I wondered what we would find to do with all that time, once we had seen the falls.  It turns out, you cannot just “see the falls.”  They are located in a rather inaccessible spot  where the Zambezi River disappears into a massive crack in the earth.  We hiked for a mile along top of the other side of the cleft, looking down into the cataracts.  We were told the full extent of this wonder is best seen from the air, so, somewhat apprehensively, we booked a helicopter.  It was a good call.  We would never have appreciated the geology if we had not taken that ride.  The massive split in the earth is continuous with a zigzagging gorge that extends for miles, the results of multiple massive water falls throughout millennia.    From the air, one can see the beginnings of the next waterfall, a crack in the floor of the Zimbabwe river. In a few thousand years, this cleft will form the next waterfall, and Victoria Falls will become just another zig in the canyon.

We took a sunset cruise on the Zambezi, rode a train across the gorge into Zambia on the bridge that is famous for bungee jumping. 

That left us with one more day.  A plan to have a massage and pedicure seemed far too tame, but the bungee jump exceeded my risk tolerance.  Even going to Zambia side to sit in Devil’s pool seemed too hazardous.  Not the pool itself—thousands have bathed in that water without being washed over the edge.  It is the walk along the top of the falls to access Devil’s pool that is occasionally fatal.  Our guide said that when someone slips and topples off the edge, the body disappears for four or five days until it floats up.  The corpse cannot be directly extracted but can be dislodged from rocks and allowed to float downstream, where it can be retrieved. 

In contrast the Lion Encounter sounded pretty tame.  A walk in the park.  With young lions.  I imagined cavorting with kitty cats, scratching behind their ears.  Maybe they would purr?

An orientation video at the preserve explained the purpose of the conservation project: to address the decimation of the lion population.  Cats are bred in captivity for eventual release into the wild.  After weaning, they are taken on daily walks to teach them about life outside.  The fees we paid for this experience supports this project. 
We were assured that the lions would accept us as members of the pride.  But there were safety tips, such as “Don’t wear anything dangly, like a scarf.”  The lions might try to “play,” like a kitten batting a string.  You get the picture.  Also, don’t approach them head on.  (i.e., don’t get near the teeth)  We signed releases of responsibility for loss of life or limb and set off down a dusty path, escorted by two guides, a videographer, and an armed guard.  The size of the gun gave me pause.  They said the gun was not to protect us from the lions.  It was to ward off other animals, such as elephant or buffalo--big animals would jump at the opportunity to kill a young lion.  It was then that I realized that we were not in a “park.” 

We were instructed to select a stick from a pile of branches. “If the lion comes toward you, just point the stick and say ‘No.’” Hmm.  I thought about circus lions, hoped for these cats to be equally well trained. 

The lions were nestled together under a tree.  Looma, the male, and Pemba, the female were three-year-old cousins, billed as “cubs.”  At as they clambered to their feet, muscles rippling beneath tawny fur, they looked pretty big and powerful to me, their haunches as high as my hips.  Looma had massive paws—kind of like a puppy who will grow into his feet—and the beginnings of a mane.

We started walking and they ambled alongside.  Although they apparently “accepted us as part of the pride,” they weren’t particularly friendly.  A couple of times, Looma veered off to one side, shouldering me into some shrubs.  He raised up to sharpen his claws higher than my head on an acacia tree, peeling off large strips of bark.  He and Pemba left the trail a couple of times to play with each other, like kittens—tumbling, biting clawing.  In those moments, I was glad they did not want to play with me.   

Pemba would occasionally growl, and my heart rate would spike.  Once, Looma suddenly started trotting toward me.  I pointed my stick and said “No,” but he was not impressed by the gesture.  The guide stepped between us.  At his point I wondered,  What am I doing here.  These are lions!   

We did get to pat them.  It was very well orchestrated.  The lions lay down and we walked around behind them, giving their heads a wide berth.  Then we knelt down behind them and patted their butts as the videographer documented us and the handler took still shots.  The fur was very coarse—not like a porcupine, of course, but not as smooth and soft as a horse or a cow.  The lions glanced back to acknowledge us, but they certainly did not purr!

We have been in close proximity to lions before, on safaris, through the windows of Land Cruisers.  We also climbed a mountain in Rwanda to commune with gorillas, gentle vegan animals with soft fur.  But to be in the direct company of powerful carnivores who could easily have ripped us to shreds in an instant was surreal.  As Looma and Pemba scampered off into the forest to play with their siblings and cousins, I felt a mixture of sadness that the experience was over, and relief that we had gotten through it unscathed!  We did not make a big impression on the lions, but we will never forget them.