More Is Never Enough from bone. As we watched them snuff out any remaining signs of
life, the truck’s two-way radio started squawking. Another guide had
spotted a pride of lions settling down and shared the coordinates with
us. A few minutes later, we were within view of the pride. While the
younger cubs jostled with each other, the adults remained vigilant.
Moving in closer, our guide shut off the engine and coasted to a
stop. All afternoon he had followed the same routine. I estimated our
distance to the pride at two, maybe three adult lion bounds. Without
warning, one of the lions lying on her side suddenly rose up on her
front paws and stared our way, prompting other lions to follow suit. I
tensed up. The farm mechanic in me thought about the expected life
of the truck’s starter motor. Did the guide have a backup plan if the
solenoid failed and the engine did not start?
This was not my first venture into the African wild. Several years earl-
ier, in Tanzania’s Serengeti, three friends and I awoke well before day-
break and headed out on an early morning safari. Our guide, driving a
similarly outfitted truck, parked on a hill overlooking a large watering
hole. It was an ideal vantage point for watching wildebeests, impalas,
and zebras appear from different directions and approach the water to
drink. As the Sun’s light cracked over the horizon, our guide pointed
farther up the slope from where we were parked to a female lion lying
down. As we looked at her, she stood up and began walking our way.
Believing the lion would walk past us and descend closer to the
watering hole, the guide did not move the truck. But this lion had
other plans. She moved closer and then steered a direct course toward
us. As she approached, the guide slid one hand inside the scabbard
resting on the hood of the truck and onto the handle of his rifle. Two
of us were in the direct line of sight between him and the lion. The
hair on the back of our necks stood up—if the lion did not get us, the
gun would.
As she drew closer, we froze and remained absolutely still. Now
standing alongside the rear quarter-panel of the truck, she looked
in the direction of the watering hole and then lay down, her spine
abutting the sidewall of the rear tire, her head panning the animals
below. One wrong move on our part, and an effortless three-foot leap