Proper Place

For three days we sought lions, riding through South Africa’s Kruger National Park in an open Land Rover, windshield down, the primary protection our faith in the habituation of wild things to the vehicle, a bolt-action rifle mounted to the dash should faith fail. When we did at last find lions—four females and two cubs—waiting out the heat of the day in the shade, I myself had become habituated to the perceived safety of the Landie. Water buffalo, hippos, elephants: From my perch in the front seat, they seemed no more harmful to me than a creature in a zoo. But we slowly rolled to a stop within fifteen feet of the cats and a big head lifted and swiveled our way. In a flash of understanding, I knew those amber eyes saw me as nothing more than an easy meal, soft on the outside, crunchy on the inside. Electricity surged from my belly to my groin, the atavistic fear response of prey.