Realpolitik in the Serengeti
Let’s say for a moment that you just became a mother in some 10th
century European village and that you spend an inordinate amount of time feeding
your child, not including the time you carried it. That is your reason for
being. The father may or may not be around. More than likely, he's out hunting
somewhere.
Next, let’s say you live in a village that is about to be attacked by the
Vikings. You have no illusions about the Vikings. They will raze your village
and take liberties you could have never dreamed of, including killing you and
your kid. You can’t stop a Viking attack any more than you can stop a rainfall.
So this is where people might be convinced to compromise, shall we say. You
show the Viking that knocks down your door a little skin, which in turn should
convince him to not look in that little room where he just heard a baby cry. For
further references, see also England blissfully ignoring the annexation of
Czechoslovakia shortly before the outbreak of World War II or Obama putting
such time valued treasures such as Medicare or Social Security as bargaining
chips on the table in front of a ravenous Republican Congress. There is what
you want (your baby to live) versus what they want (to overpower you, kill you
and your kid, and burn down your house) versus what is attainable, a compromise
that leaves neither side happy but allows them to lie to themselves that they
have earned their fat paychecks. In the end, the house will be burned down, but
maybe the baby can be miraculously saved? Realpolitik, if you will.
What does this have to do with the Serengeti? Well, let’s talk about the episode that defined the Serengeti for us this time around.
With few cars to help us in our quest for the best animal sightings, we need to brace ourselves for one reality. When in Rome, do as the Romans. This means stalking a lone female lion we spot walking through the tall grass. When she finally crosses the road ahead of us, we see this is a full grown female lion, one who would rip your throat out without thinking about it too hard. She hardly peers over at the wildebeest or the impala grazing off to one side of the plains. It becomes increasingly clear that this lion is on a mission, that she has someplace to go—we’re thinking a cub hidden somewhere.
We follow her for a few miles, slowly advancing in the Landcruiser while the lion crosses through the tallgrass of the plains at will. She finally comes to a halt near a water source, a river that has luscious green tall grass teeming on its shores. While this might appear inviting to grazing herds, it would be just as deadly if they were to accept the invitation. This is where the lion starts drinking before a small, emaciated cub comes jumping out of the grass following a call by its mother. The cub is in sad shape. The mother obviously hasn’t eaten herself, meaning her cub will go hungry as well. For a while the cub prances around its mother, oblivious to any hidden danger.
It doesn’t take long until the mother lion is on the move again…and, uncharacteristically, on the alert. We backtrack a mile with the mother lion in our sights, all the while wondering what caught her attention. At a crossroad, MT discovers why. Resting in the tall grass are five—count ‘em—five male lions. It is simply amazing to see how quickly these large animals can duck in and out of the tall grass without being seen. I have excellent eyesight, but even I lose track of the lions. This is not a place where you might want to take an unannounced restroom break.
Spotting the male lions is the female, who is walking toward them, as if to greet them...or, more likely, to ward them off. The mother knows that if the males find her cub, then the offspring will be killed. In return, this will activate another process that will enable the mother to go back into heat…thus leaving her at the charms of the male lions who just killed her cub. If everything fails, then the mother will get to copulate with the male who has a cub’s smell that might still be lingering on his breath.
Instead, there’s the realpolitik of dealing with the lions herself. She immediately approaches the alpha of the pack and lures him miles away from her cub, the alpha’s companions trailing them at a safe distance. Finally, at a large rock, they mate. Is this what the mother originally wanted? Probably not. What happens in the end is hard to say. Ideally, the cub will be safe and she will be able to make a kill that night that will enable the mother and her cub to survive. The truth is, nobody knows. That cub might even be dead already, for all we know. Realpolitik.
We run into numerous herds of elephants. The elephants move slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, which they do, of course, with their high average life expectancy. The elephants cross the road in front of us…or remain in the road, depending on their preference. A Landcruiser certainly isn’t going to move an elephant, let alone a herd of them.
It is great day for animal gazing, and I am still mesmerized by the endless plains stretching out in front of us, and the fact I don’t see another Landcruiser anywhere. A strong wind sweeps through the plains while we eat a late lunch. We need to secure the top to keep the pesky tse tse’s out. This time around in the Serengeti, it’s more about observation, since the novelty of seeing these animals in the wild is no longer there. It’s about reflection and more and more appreciating what might not be there much longer. The animals, the plants, the gorgeous birds, the endless plains that make you think you will live forever.
And as much as you love the place, you can't help but think that you'd rather be you than that poor lion mother who has to make deals all of her life. That goes double for any animal further down the food chain. So would you rather be the cheetah who will probably lose most of her cubs or the antelope who is always on the lookout? All a question of perspective.
What does this have to do with the Serengeti? Well, let’s talk about the episode that defined the Serengeti for us this time around.
With few cars to help us in our quest for the best animal sightings, we need to brace ourselves for one reality. When in Rome, do as the Romans. This means stalking a lone female lion we spot walking through the tall grass. When she finally crosses the road ahead of us, we see this is a full grown female lion, one who would rip your throat out without thinking about it too hard. She hardly peers over at the wildebeest or the impala grazing off to one side of the plains. It becomes increasingly clear that this lion is on a mission, that she has someplace to go—we’re thinking a cub hidden somewhere.
We follow her for a few miles, slowly advancing in the Landcruiser while the lion crosses through the tallgrass of the plains at will. She finally comes to a halt near a water source, a river that has luscious green tall grass teeming on its shores. While this might appear inviting to grazing herds, it would be just as deadly if they were to accept the invitation. This is where the lion starts drinking before a small, emaciated cub comes jumping out of the grass following a call by its mother. The cub is in sad shape. The mother obviously hasn’t eaten herself, meaning her cub will go hungry as well. For a while the cub prances around its mother, oblivious to any hidden danger.
It doesn’t take long until the mother lion is on the move again…and, uncharacteristically, on the alert. We backtrack a mile with the mother lion in our sights, all the while wondering what caught her attention. At a crossroad, MT discovers why. Resting in the tall grass are five—count ‘em—five male lions. It is simply amazing to see how quickly these large animals can duck in and out of the tall grass without being seen. I have excellent eyesight, but even I lose track of the lions. This is not a place where you might want to take an unannounced restroom break.
Spotting the male lions is the female, who is walking toward them, as if to greet them...or, more likely, to ward them off. The mother knows that if the males find her cub, then the offspring will be killed. In return, this will activate another process that will enable the mother to go back into heat…thus leaving her at the charms of the male lions who just killed her cub. If everything fails, then the mother will get to copulate with the male who has a cub’s smell that might still be lingering on his breath.
Instead, there’s the realpolitik of dealing with the lions herself. She immediately approaches the alpha of the pack and lures him miles away from her cub, the alpha’s companions trailing them at a safe distance. Finally, at a large rock, they mate. Is this what the mother originally wanted? Probably not. What happens in the end is hard to say. Ideally, the cub will be safe and she will be able to make a kill that night that will enable the mother and her cub to survive. The truth is, nobody knows. That cub might even be dead already, for all we know. Realpolitik.
We run into numerous herds of elephants. The elephants move slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, which they do, of course, with their high average life expectancy. The elephants cross the road in front of us…or remain in the road, depending on their preference. A Landcruiser certainly isn’t going to move an elephant, let alone a herd of them.
It is great day for animal gazing, and I am still mesmerized by the endless plains stretching out in front of us, and the fact I don’t see another Landcruiser anywhere. A strong wind sweeps through the plains while we eat a late lunch. We need to secure the top to keep the pesky tse tse’s out. This time around in the Serengeti, it’s more about observation, since the novelty of seeing these animals in the wild is no longer there. It’s about reflection and more and more appreciating what might not be there much longer. The animals, the plants, the gorgeous birds, the endless plains that make you think you will live forever.
And as much as you love the place, you can't help but think that you'd rather be you than that poor lion mother who has to make deals all of her life. That goes double for any animal further down the food chain. So would you rather be the cheetah who will probably lose most of her cubs or the antelope who is always on the lookout? All a question of perspective.
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