A guttural roar jarred me out of sleep, reminding me I was thousands of miles away from home. I threw on the cargo jacket I’d bought for this trip and clumsily laced up my new hiking shoes. A Mississippi Gulf Coast girl at heart, I had to leave my low-heeled, jewel-studded flip-flops behind, at least for a few hours, on this day trip out in the South Africa bush.
I grabbed my handy video camera and sticks (tripod) and rushed out of the safari hut, hoping to catch the majesty of the sun rising, lighting up the glorious mane of the male lion who continued to bellow out his bone-jarring roars, letting everyone within a five-mile radius know not only was he awake, but still king of the wild.
Fortunately, I found the perfect place to set up – thankful for the thin wire fence that separated us on this safari and wildlife rescue reserve for unwanted, neglected, abandoned and abused wildlife, including this lion and his pride.
With somewhat steady hands, barely breathing and just feet away from this four-legged beast, I set up my camera and hit “record.” So far, so good, but I decided not to try to press my luck, and left the camera to do its work and catch video of the time lapse of this morning’s sunrise.
In an incredible stroke of “luck,” which I prefer to call Divine Providence, I had landed the opportunity of a lifetime to work as the “B” utility camera operator (and ultimately to work as a producer and writer) for a national TV wildlife series being filmed in South Africa.
All the research in the world could not have adequately prepared me for the splendor – and very real danger – I would encounter during this once-in-a-lifetime trip, where I would experience memories that would last a lifetime, but, perhaps more importantly, equip me with lessons from the wild that I still carry with me to this day.
Once my time-lapse video of the breath-taking sunrise had wrapped, I hopped onto the back of an open truck trailer and rode with the rescue sanctuary crew members who were heading out – behind the lions’ fences – to feed the hungry pride.
Perhaps after more than twenty-five years of working in journalism, including decades in TV news where I survived (and covered) Hurricane Katrina on the Mississippi Gulf Coast in 2005, outwitted a group of beauty school students whose instructor had sicked them on me while filming the scene of a drive-by shooting at a gas station next door to their cosmetology school in Jackson, Mississippi, and numerous other close calls while working in the industry, I figured the lions shouldn’t pose much of a threat.
As we wound deeper into the lions’ territory and I got a clearer, up-close-and-personal look at these salivating beasts, I started to rethink my calculated decision to venture out on this feeding frenzy.
Trying to multitask – shouldering my trusty video camera in the proper frame and lighting – while silently making yet another plea bargain and promises to God in exchange for saving my life once again – I miraculously managed to get solid video as the crew threw carcasses of cattle that had died of natural causes at a nearby ranch – to the blood-thirsty group.
Witnessing first-hand how the animal kingdom operates by the “Rules of the Wild,” the alpha and top-ranking lions fed first, followed later by the lower-ranking ones. Knowing where I stood as a human on the feeding chain, I was just glad I wasn’t on the menu, and that they hadn’t taken much notice of me.
I breathed a sigh of relief, or maybe I just actually breathed, for the first time since this outdoor adventure began, as we finally rolled away from the wild feast of the beast - but it wasn’t over yet.
There were more lions to feed. This time around, we’d have the “safety” of a wire fence as the workers fed the group of lions on the other side.
With a little more confidence, I cautiously approached the fence and tried to gently maneuver the lens of my camera inside the small, square holes formed by the wire fence, so I could get a “clean shot” of the feeding free-for-all.
BIG MISTAKE. Thank God, my face was shielded behind my camera and my eyes focused on the viewfinder as I started to roll (record), because, had there not been that barrier, I darn sure might have fallen out of a heart attack, when the alpha male of the pride decided I had dared to trespass on his territory.
I was at a loss for words to adequately describe how utterly terrifying it is, and how your blood literally runs cold, when faced with life-threatening terror, as I was when Alpha Leo decided to give me a good run for my money, or at the very least tried to scare me to death, considering my vulnerable position and the very thin wire fence that separated us from each other.
Yes, I fell backward, but I did not let go of the camera (twenty-plus years of training is hard to break)! So much for the shot. Despite my apparent despair and a need to change my cargo pants, the feeding crew burst out in laughter. Fortunately, at least one person there had a heart. Maddy, who our crew dubbed “The Lion Whisperer,” calmly approached me, extended her hand and shared some very valuable advice, at least after the fact.
“You can’t show fear,” she told me. “Stand your ground.”
I dusted myself off, made more bargains with God, pride bruised but determined to get “the shot.” I approached the fence and set up the shot once again and rolled. At least I would get my death on video. Maybe it wasn’t all in vain. If it bleeds, it leads, right?
Once again, the King of the South African Bush charged me, more agitated this time, grunting and showing his long, sharp incisors, salivating, so close I could smell his rancid breath and definitely feel his extreme displeasure. When I refused to move and stood my ground, he decided to turn and walk around, only to charge me again. Still, I stood. After one more charge, he finally decided he was wasting his time and needed to eat – the chickens, and not me.
And I got my shot.
Little did I know less than twenty-four hours later, I’d face a similar situation while shooting on location in the mountainous and hilly terrain of the African bush, this time around as the show talent, experienced military veterans, “stalked” some warthogs. As the lone cameraman, I trailed behind them and our guide to get some nice low-angle shots. That’s when I heard the snorting.
Slowly, I turned my head to discover a filthy, battle-scarred two-hundred-pound warthog zoned in on me, ready to attack. I quickly did the math and figured I was on my own this time; there was no way the guys dozens of yards ahead of me could help.
Remembering the valuable lesson from my lion encounter just hours earlier, and, once again, making yet more bargains and pleas silently with my Maker, I looked the hairy, angry beast right in the eye and sent a mental message, “You may get me, but you will know you’ve been in a fight.”
It was time to stand my ground, and I did, successfully. Just a few minutes after that standoff, I caught up with the crew - only for all of us to be vastly outnumbered by a massive group of warthogs that surrounded us at that point. Once again, I prayed – and stood my ground, as did the rest of the crew.
Disaster averted, once again.
Upon return to the States, I offered up thanks for my good fortune and life intact, able to venture in the new territory of writing a season of TV episodes for a wildlife show, which turned out to be a success, but, even more importantly, a very valuable lesson in life.
“Stand Your Ground,” turned out to be the title I used for one of the seven episodes. It’s something I’d learned about first-hand, and something that’s parlayed over into my daily life since.
If we live long enough, all of us will, at some point, find ourselves facing times in our lives where we must decide whether we will stand our ground.
We’ll all face predators of all forms - corrupt people, organizations, politicians and other decision-makers who abuse their positions of authority to rob, crush or slander those they are tasked to care for or govern; bullies who threaten our children in the school yard or, worse yet, inside our schools and classrooms; people hellbent on the moral decay of our society, beliefs, families and rights.
Yes, taking a stand can be costly; but, deciding not to do so can be disastrous, deadly and adversely affect not only our lives and generation, but the future of generations to come.
In the wise words of eighteenth-century Irish philosopher and statesman Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
I hope you decide to take the road less traveled and “stand your ground.” I know I am.
