Barotseland Mission, South Africa
By R. C. Porter
Watching the Lion by Night From a Tree
THINKING this a good opportunity to study the nature and tactics of this most wary king of beasts, we decided to camp by the river about a mile farther on. Leaving Sister Anderson in charge of the camp, with our native attendants to keep the camp-fires burning, Elder Anderson and I decided to return, take our position in the tree, and remain there during the night. Accordingly about four in the afternoon, taking our repeating rifles, and the ax to clear the limbs that would obstruct our view, we returned and took our position in the tree. On our return, we found that the lion had been there and taken another meal during the day. There the carcass of the eland lay directly in front of us about fifty or sixty feet from our location. It was our hope that the lion might return before dark, as, under the conditions in which we were placing ourselves, we were treed for the night unless he should appear before nightfall. He did not return, however, until about two hours after dark. His coming was as noiseless as that of the approaching darkness save for an occasional grunt or purr as he advanced. He approached against the wind, and evidently scented us in the tree. He turned aside into the tall grass, and lay there for about two and one-half hours before he returned to eat. He was so near that we could hear his deep breathing. We were so safely located out of danger that we felt no fear, and it was very interesting to study his wary proceedings. At last as noiselessly as he came at first, he crept up and began to feast upon his prey. It was now so dark that we could not see him; and as we did not wish to drive him away to our camp, where Sister Anderson had bravely volunteered to remain in charge, we did not disturb him. He would crush the ribs of the eland more readily than they could be chopped by a meat-ax wielded by a strong man. After eating for about fifteen minutes, he retired through the tall grass, taking another route than the one by which he came. Although near enough to hear him breathe, we could not hear a rustle of the grass as he departed. His deep bass grunts indicated his movements, however, so that we could follow him until beyond hearing distance. After about three hours of waiting we began to grow sleepy, when again we heard his purr and grunt approaching. It was still dark. This time he approached cautiously, but advanced at once and began to eat. After about the same length of time he departed as before. We drew our rifles to see if there were any possibility of an aim at him, but it was too dark to see even along the rifle barrels, so we concluded to risk his returning again after the moon should have arisen. After waiting another three hours, the moon had risen, and again he approached so noiselessly as not even to give warning by a sound of purr or grunt, so that we did not observe his approach. The light of the moon evidently caused him to be more fearful of detection. Not knowing of his approach, I made a slight noise, and like a shot he was off with a bound into the tall grass, and as far as we could hear, he was still galloping toward a place of safety. Another sound in the rear indicated that there were probably a pair of them, although but one came near enough to eat. Following his example of caution, we waited in our safe quarters in the tree top until daybreak, when after firing two shots to frighten any lingering lion from the vicinity, we returned to camp. We were glad to find that Sister Anderson had slept well, and that there had been no disturbance during the night. The night's experience taught us some valuable lessons. We learned that there is no such thing as hearing the lion's noiseless approach, but that he is afraid of the light. He is not afraid of the coals or embers of a camp-fire, but of a light that will reveal his approach. A short time since, near Pemba, a native attendant, sleeping under the wagon in which his white master lay, allowed his camp-fire to die down to embers, and the lion stole into the camp and snatched him suddenly from his slumbers to his death. Three lanterns will make any camp practically safe from lions or leopards. It is poor economy, and presumption rather than courage, for any of our missionaries to expose themselves to unnecessary danger when protection is possible and costs so little. I felt uneasy about the safety of our missionaries in these lion-infested districts until that night's experience taught me the value of light. Two lanterns while on trek, one in the lead and one in the cart, and three lanterns about the camp at night, will generally insure safety from attack by any wild animal except the rhinoceros. Lions and leopards will rarely attack a team when it is in motion. Missionaries should not be presumptuous when traveling in these dangerous places, but walk as children of light as well as when bearing the torch of truth to those who sit in darkness.