Chuck Hears the Lion's Roar

And now for the rest of the story . . .

Unfortunately, the Chuckster’s encounter with the sleeping lions during our “picnic” did not satisfy my cat. He wanted more.

And wasn’t that just like my rascal Chuck?

First, he wanted to meet a lion face to face. Then he wanted to see a lion in action and hear the fellow “roar.”

I reminded him we were on safari and not part of some Disney movie. These were wild animals. We were traveling on the Serengeti Plain, the best game viewing spot in all of Africa. It cuts through Kenya and Tanzania. This is where the famous migration occurs every year. We were sure to see plenty of lions, but could I guarantee that we would hear a lion roar?

“Chuck, get serious, lions don’t just roar for the hell of it. They roar for a reason. And not a good reason.” The implication was clear. “Life as a lion is tough, Chuck. They don’t get their food from a cat can, like you do. What do you want to see? A life and death struggle for survival?”

Chuck blinked.

That’s exactly what he wanted to see.

And, of course, what Chuck wanted, he often got. Especially after he had spotted the leopard up the tree and practically saved Steven’s life. Steven now became committed to finding Chuck a roaring lion.

Steven had friends who roamed the plains, like he did. He communicated with other drivers using a high-tech walkie-talkie system. When the call came that a pride of lions had been spotted with a kill, Steven anticipated that Chuck was going to get what he asked for, so we raced across the plains to the spot.

“Just keep a hold of that cat,” Steven warned.

The picture in front of us was not a pretty one.

Five lions surrounded their kill, but they were being taunted by a family of hyenas, the scavengers of the plains, who were hungry and wanted a piece of the kill. The hyenas were faster than the lions and were attempting to lure the lions away from their prize.

Steven parked the safari vehicle as close as he could to the action. We watched as the lions paced back and forth, protecting their bounty. The hyenas darted in and out, making sneak attacks, trying to unnerve the lions. This went on for awhile.

I held Chuck tightly in my arms. He watched in fascination.

“It’s only a matter of time before something gives. Someone is going to make a more daring move.”

You could almost see the hyenas salivating. Life on the plains at this time of year was tough. There had been little rain. This kill was precious. The lions were not willing to share.

Finally, it happened. One of the hyenas, the one I would call the sacrificial hyena, ran straight into the kill and ripped a piece of meat off in his jaws.

The lion closest, the one standing guard, let our a terrific ROAR.
The air shook around us.

The hyena with the meat secured in his jaw stepped back.

The lion ROARED again.

The hyena began to run for his life. Literally.

The lion took off after him.

The meat fell from his jaws, and the hyena managed to escape.

I suspect the other hyenas were supposed to go for the meat in those precious seconds when the kill was left unattended, but they didn’t. Perhaps, the ROAR sounded so fierce, they lost their nerve. Instead all the hyenas slinked off, and the lions were finally left in peace.

“Well, what did you think, Chuck?”

He was purring softly. With Chuck, that is always a good sign.

He was happy.

A lion’s roar on the Serengeti Plain sounds magnificent.

I would have purred, too, if I were a cat.

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Chuck Picnics with the Lions

Lions, tigers, and bears.

Lions, tigers, and bears.

Lions . . .

My rascal cat Chuck has had a thing for getting in touch with his ancestors so while we were on safari in Africa he was on the look-out--at all times--for sightings of lions on the plains. He wanted to see one up close. Face to face. He wanted to look a lion in the eye.

And who knows what he thought would happen. Did he think they spoke the same language? Did he think that a lion would meow in greeting? Or did he just want to hear a lion roar?

But lions are difficult to spot.

For one thing, the grasses are tall on the plains in Kenya, and it is almost impossible to see a pride of lions slinking through the tall grasses. Their magnificent tan coats blend in well with the burnt out color on the plains, and unless the pride is camped out under a tree, in the shade, in a picnic spot, you can be within 100 feet of them and miss them completely.

We were shocked and dismayed at one point, while stopped in our safari vehicle observing a leopard, when we received an alert that a pride of lions was sauntering along--headed right towards us, in fact. Sure enough, within minutes, they walked on by, and we didn’t even see them until they appeared out of nowhere, strutting their stuff, cool and sophisticated past our vehicle.

One day in particular, on safari, we’d been riding around, and not having much luck spotting much of anything, when Steven, our driver announced it was time for lunch. He knew of a tree about twenty miles away that happened to be smack in the middle of the plains AND it happened to have a bunch of picnic tables underneath it. Yes, we would be having a picnic on the African plains.

So off we rode, chugging along on roads, riddled with potholes, that were not meant to be ridden on, getting hungrier by the minute.

I kept my eye on Chuckie, who sat in my lap, staring out, scanning for that tree.

We rode and rode, and I knew that the Chuckster was getting hungrier and hungrier.

“We’re getting closer,” Steven yelled back into the vehicle.

I heard Chuckie’s tummy grumble.

“I can see the tree now,” Steve called.

Chuckie straightened and leaned his head out the window. I knew what he was thinking. He’d be the first one out, the first one to the food. The kid had no manners when it came to chowing down.

Finally, Steven turned off the main path, and we slowed as we wound our way toward the tree. I could see that the grasses under the tree were greener because of the shade. I tightened my grasp on Chuck. He began to wrestle with me.

“Behave yourself,” I hissed.

After the incident with the leopard in the tree, I would have thought Chuck learned his lesson--never just jump out of the safari vehicle until you check what might be up the tree, until you check that it is SAFE.

The vehicle stopped. Chuck broke free and leapt onto the grass, obviously without looking.

Then I saw them.

An entire pride of lions were fast asleep underneath the tree--sprawled out everywhere--some on the grass, some on the benches, some near the fire pit. They were taking their afternoon siesta. And my Chuckie had jumped directly into the center of the action. My little Chuckie.

“What the hell is that cat doing there?” Steven whispered, a bit too loudly, I thought.

Chuckie stayed absolutely still. It took him two seconds to realize the danger. His ancestors were not about to provide him with any heartfelt welcome. In fact, I figured Chuck had about 30 seconds to get out of there before one of his ancestors woke up and devoured him alive.

But the poor kid was scared out of his wits and paralyzed.

It seemed as if the air stilled on the entire African plain.

I heard Steven open the door of the safari vehicle.

“C’mon, Chuck,” I heard myself praying, “Do something.”

Someone must have nudged him on the shoulder for it was as if he suddenly awoke. He began to moonwalk backwards so quietly you saw it but didn’t hear it. Then he swiveled and quicker than a jackrabbit, jumped back into the vehicle.

I pulled him close to me and didn’t say a word.

Oh, there were plenty of things I wanted to say, but why rub it in it. If the kid hadn’t learned his lesson this time around . . . no, the most important thing was the kid had made it back alive.

To read more about Chuck and his adventures, log onto to my website: www.katelutter.com.

Wild Point Island -- soon to be released 2012.