Fast Food

Our propeller plane pulled up to avoid landing on the elephant sauntering down the dirt runway. This was my first indication that humans may not be in control in Kruger National Park. “Welcome to South Africa,” I thought.

For two days, I watched leopards hunt springbok, cheetahs mark their territory, lions torment a tree full of baboons and water buffalo drink at an ever-shrinking river. Late one afternoon, a male leopard walked so close to our open Land Rover that he could have turned his head and licked my leg. Fortunately, past experience had taught him that people in cars were neither a food source nor a threat.

For two intense days, I observed animals as I sat in the Rover without moving, sometimes without breathing. I needed to run. I mentioned it to my ranger, forgetting I was not in a petting zoo. “You’re fast food here, so no running without a gun following you” he ordered. Being trailed by a guy with a gun was not my usual running custom.

Peter, the well-versed and lanky head ranger, decided to join me. I wanted his knowledge, but feared his long strides. You don’t want to be the slowest runner with lions and leopards in proximity.
Peter started off fast and I struggled to keep up. I was breathing hard and cursing under my breath. This was going to be a brutal run. The winter tundra was dry under the bright sun and crackled in the breeze. Yellow grass brushed our knees and reddish-brown earth bounced as we ran down the path.

Peter stopped and pointed. A big circle was imprinted in the dirt ahead of us. “Elephant tracks,” he said. In front of the footprint, another swirling trail marked the elephant’s trunk dragging in the dust. With renewed energy, we started off again.

Down the path, we came upon a group of zebras grazing on grass. We stopped running. They stopped eating. A staring contest ensued as they looked at me with their dark, skittish eyes. I had gone from the observer to the observed.

Heading back to camp, fast moving hooves crashed through brush and made the ground vibrate. A herd of springbok passed off to our left. They casually turned their heads, as if to see what animal ran so slowly. I worried about what was chasing them and checked for my friend with the gun.

I had come to South Africa to see the animals in their natural environment. Often, I was so close to them that I could see their eyelashes or hear bones cracking as they ate their kill. In the vehicle, the animals ignored me completely. Stepping out of my perceived safety in the Land Rover to run down the road showed me my true vulnerability in their world. There was a new order to the food chain and I was not at the top.