A week or so ago I had an opportunity to visit a local zoo. Now, I love animals. One of the blessings of my current residence is that it is populated with a large variety of native wild animals. I wake up and go to sleep with five or more deer staring in my window. Several times I have seen this herd tear off in terror as a coyote approaches. Skunks and raccoons are common visitors. Unfortunately, they devour my garden and eat all the fruit I grow, but nevertheless I enjoy their presence. I love the wide variety of birds who visit, and I swear regularly at the gophers and moles that travel my property under ground. A fox lives next door, and I see him slinking about. Why all this preamble? To set the stage for my most precious of all animal sightings – in Africa.
The Masai Mara Game Reserve in Kenya is composed of a huge flat plain which covers an area from horizon to horizon. It also goes by the name Serengeti – depends on if you approach it from Kenya or from Tanzania. Higher hills surround it, and it serves as a home for an untold number of animals – both in quantity and in species. It is named for the native inhabitants whose warriors are legendary – the Masaai.
Here in Kenya’s wildlife reserve there is a role reversal. Instead of us homo-sapiens watching animals in a fenced and restricted area on the Masai Mara, we human bipeds are enclosed in vehicles. Our freedom is limited to the mobile cages we travel in. The enclosures may be busses or more often trucks, with rows of seats conveniently spaced on their beds. But nevertheless, these vehicles restrict us. Outside the area of our confines is as dangerous to us as it is for an animal in the zoo to escape into our environs.
(A little sidebar on this restriction. When one of the vehicles breaks down or has a flat tire, the other vehicles in the area are called in and a circle is formed around the inoperable van. This situation always reminds me of the western movies where the covered wagons “circled” when the Indians appeared. I wonder which defense came first – here or there?)
At any rate, on our visits to this magical place, we traveled about, watching giraffes at water holes – a great sight. Their legs were spread wide so they could reach the water with their long necks. Elephants moved from one feeding ground to the next, with the younger, weaker ones in the center, surrounded by the majestic bulls. Wildebeests grazed on the short vegetation, their tails in constant movement swishing the flies away.
At one point during a game drive, our driver became quite excited. He had just heard from another guide who had discovered a most unusual find. We hurried the twenty or so kilometers between us and came upon a wonderful sight.
Lying still on the grass in the shade of an acacia tree, there was a mother cheetah. Near her scampered four of the cuddliest little cubs you could imagine. The babies resembled medium-sized house cats and were playing and rolling about. They clawed away at one another – absorbed in a game of “bash your brother,” which was interrupted periodically by a visit to the local deli where they enjoyed a quick repast. Mom looked on with an expression of pure joy – a smile on her face. She seemed unfazed by the audience she had collected and contentedly licked the playing foursome. Her loud “purring” was the only sound in this magical setting.
I would love to have gotten out of my cage and hold one of these little tykes, but believe me it would have been a disaster. Mom was no pussycat!
We are all proud parents, watching our children grow and play, and we are protective of them. I felt a strong kinship to this relaxing cat. A different species of course, but certainly a shared inner feeling of joy watching over our own breed. Alas, all tiny offspring grow up and become adults, but they still reside in our memory as playful cubs.
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