Hunt — Chapter 1

The heat was beginning to dwindle, and I was well hidden by the long strands of grass. The area was deserted with the exception of a crowd of impala, grazing silently ahead. I crouched low, sifting the herd for an individual, and spotted a calf beside its mother. Standing at full height, it barely reaching her belly. A newborn.

That would be the menu for tonight.

Without warning, I charged with all the ferocity a hunting cheetah could muster. The crowd dispersed as I sliced my way through, and as deadly as my teeth and claws were, I was careful to avoid their equally hazardous anthers. The mother and her calf were already on the run, but I was not far behind. They were no match for my speed, but I had to finish the hunt before the heat accumulated in my body reached a deadly level. For while I could easily outrun them, impalas had the stamina I lacked.

I was fast closing the gap between us. The mother’s hind legs loomed ahead, kicking up a cloud of dust in her escape. My target, the calf, was in front of her, and in that instant I switched my choice of prey. With my front paw I reached out and tripped one of her hind legs.

She fell, and another cloud of dust enveloped us as I braked and went for the neck. She bleated pathetically while I punctured her throat with my canines. I wasn’t strong enough to break her neck, but suffocating would suffice. Unlike hyenas, I preferred to dismantle my prey after it was well and truly dead, but suffocating was a slow process.

I released my grip on her throat after her heart was still, and then began to look for a well-sheltered spot. Scanning the horizon for a potential hideout so I could feast in peace, I allowed my body to cool down from the chase. I was glad for having to suffocate her, since during which I had a chance for my body temperature to return to normal.

My keen eyes spotted a clump of bushes, the only other form of vegetation in the grassland within a reasonable distance. It wasn’t a good hiding place, but there wasn’t a better one. I dragged the carcass over, and started devouring it at once. Mealtimes weren’t the safest, especially for a lone predator that had stronger enemies.

It was while I was tearing open her stomach that I spotted a faint disturbance in the grass, not far from where I was feasting. The presence of another animal disturbed me, and most likely meant the end of my feast. The scavengers had found the trail of the dead impala, and I had barely eaten my fill.

I tensed, alert. If it was a weak scavenger I could still scare it away. I couldn’t bear the thought of hyenas stealing the feast I had spent energy hunting. I was beginning to feel fear gripping my heart, because a hyena was the worst creature to come across, especially when you had food. I had food, and I was alone. I was no match for a lone hyena with its bone-crushing bite, let alone a group of hyenas. Because if there was a hyena lurking around, chances were a whole pack of them was nearby.

The sun was beginning to set. Quickly I had a few more mouthfuls, each one separated with a through scan of my surroundings. As a diurnal hunter, it was safer if I found a safe spot before nightfall. My eyes were my weapon, and unlike most predators, I did not rely much on my sense of smell.

The animal revealed itself from the cover of the bush. I growled, and then saw it retreat. I stood, ready to defend my prey, and the animal reemerged again.

It was the calf.

Surprise would be an understatement. I cocked my head, trying to understand what was going on. Here, standing right in front of me, was an impala calf, the prey I had intentionally stalked. Behind me was its mother, or what was left of her. It had to be my lucky day to have a meal walking up to me. The only thing ensuring its life was the fact that I was full from devouring its mother.

The calf sniffed the air and dipped its head. I regarded it with doubt, unsure of what I had to do. It wasn’t a situation I faced everyday. I debated between scaring it off, hoping it would survive for an easy meal when I needed it, and finishing it off with a quick bite. Killing it would have taken a short time, as compared to a full-grown adult.

While I was weighing the advantages of both, the calf trotted towards me. At that moment I truly wondered how terribly its mother had failed as a parent – to have raised an offspring suicidal enough to present itself to a predator.

I bent low and growled again. It took a reluctant step back, and then came forward. My growl turned to a grimace. I understood finally that it had been separated and left behind by the herd after the chase was over, and had followed the scent of its mother to me. Apparently it had chosen to ignore the bloodied ground on which its mother lay.

I left it standing and returned to have a last mouthful of its mother, and to my astonishment the calf followed, seemingly bent to ignore the gruesome sight and the danger I posed.

Well-fed and satisfied that my feast had gone uninterrupted by scavengers, I laid on my belly and started preening, licking my fur clean of blood. The calf, relaxed that I did not, after all, tear him apart, grew bolder and rested beside me. I found the thing shivering and gladly warmed him up with the knowledge that he would be an easy meal when I was hungry and too lazy to hunt.

Hunt — Chapter 2

The carcass had gone unnoticed throughout the night, and I was able to enjoy another quick bite the following morning. I did not intend to harm the calf as long as I wasn’t hungry. It was still cuddled by me when I woke, and I had the decency of licking the dew off its thin coat of fur.

At noon, I had trekked for almost a mile, taking short breaks along the way. The calf followed closely, as if I were the surrogate mother. I had no desire to eat as the impala could sustain me for at least a week, and in an ironic turn of events, was thus better adapted to care for the calf, kept full by the meat of its parent and therefore away from the need to hunt. There was no way a young impala that size could survive alone out in the wild, and who better to know that than myself.

It was before sunset that I noticed the calf struggling to keep pace. And then it occurred to me that it hadn’t fed since my hunt, and probably would never have a chance of feeding again, dependent on a mother’s milk it was. Without the much needed nourishment, it couldn’t go far, and already I could feel its strength draining by the minute. I glanced at its weak frame, and pondered about a crushing blow to the head, when I heard a faint roar in the distance.

Unlike the wild creatures in the area, the roar was constant, mechanical. It was the sound of engines, the deep purr of a vehicle. Sure enough, I was within sight of a green jeep, and the stink of human reached my nose. The jeep was occupied with them, creatures that came in various colours.

I picked the calf up in my jaw as I would do for my own cubs, and started towards the jeep.

Almost immediately, I could sense an excitement amongst the humans. I ought to have expected that. What predator would gently pick a prey up and carry it in search for help? For that was what I was seeking – help. I’ve heard stories about humans, some good and others bad. Whatever the truth was, they were intervenes. I was either saving the calf, or stepping onto death’s very own doorstep.

The irony of having the calf in my mouth already done that.

I stopped about a metre away from the jeep’s side, and gently released the calf. It stood on trembling legs, and started bleating in a way that set my predatory instincts on fire. Weak, young, alone, the calf was the ideal prey. But with possibly the strongest will any predator has ever seen, I sat on my haunches and pleaded silently for some form of intervention.

I was lucky. I watched on silently as one of the humans made his way slowly out of the jeep. He was cautious, and for good reason. Never letting his guard down, he made his way towards the calf, and took it in his arms. The calf, out of fatigue and trust, allowed itself to be carried into the vehicle. Still I sat, for the safety of myself and the calf. Humans were helpless creatures, but then you could never tell if they carried a gun. It was never good to make sudden movements.

When the calf was safely in the truck, I waited patiently, not knowing what to expect. Could they help it? What would they do? I watched as other humans pointed black, squarish objects at me.

I sat until the jeep drove off, and with it, the calf.