I have no time to waste. The lion and hyena will soon smell the kill and come looking for blood. I am no match for their strength and cannot afford to lose my kill. Quickly, I drag the listless body of the impala into the cover of the bush. I move as swiftly as possible while clutching my prey in my teeth and jaws, toward my cubs and the safety of the small outcropping of rock and tall grass where I left them. They sense my arrival and chirp noisily at the sight of the kill. I drag the meat to them, deep in the cover of grasses and we feed. There is no squabbling or hierarchy. There is enough meat for all.
Satiated, my cubs lift their heads from deep inside the impala’s cavity, and are covered with the sticky blood. I lick their tiny faces, washing away all signs of the kill and once again revealing their black tear-stain marks that gently run from their golden eyes to the corners of their mouths. They purr so loudly, I fear they might be heard. I lift my neck to see above the cover of grass, but I detect nothing. Now finished and full, I must lead my young to safer confines for the night. We cannot stay here, the area is now matted down with blood and littered with bone and skin. Later, scavengers will come and finish what is left of the kill. I saunter off into the softly swaying grasses, my cubs following, then stopping, wrestling, playing tug, following again. Already, the vultures have detected the remains and begin to circle above in the brilliant blue of the sky, their high pitched screams breaking the silence of the waning afternoon. They will finish what they can, cleanly, leaving behind but teeth and bones, white and gleaming in the fading sunlight. If the hyena is near, he will find what is left, crunching and digesting the teeth and bone. Otherwise, left to the sun and wind, they will bleach and dry and whiten, becoming one with the earth, part of the landscape, ever changing.
* * * * * * *
I am sure that life could not be much better than this. I think all animals should spend more time playing and rolling in mud. Not only can I play whenever I choose, but I am always surrounded by my family – mother, older sister and brother, my aunts and their young, too. They take good care of me and indulge me even when I stray a bit or need to rest after playing too hard. Sometimes, though, if I wander too far, they get nervous and come after me. But mostly, though, I just like to run fast, bob my head, and roll in mud. I like to suckle, too, which I do often, and sometimes take naps while the rest of my herd is feeding. They eat way too much. They spend all their time eating. I wish they’d play more, but at least my cousins and siblings will trunk wrestle with me and play shove. I like that. I am the littlest in the herd so I get the most attention. I like that, too.
It has been very hot and I cannot play as hard because the sun makes me tired. My mother will push me under her to protect me from the sun if it gets too hot. Earlier in the day, she shaded me for quite some time. Everyone else had the blazing sun on their backs and I could tell they weren’t comfortable, but I had all shade and could suckle as well. It was a good day.
After my mother shaded me and it started to cool down a bit, she led everyone to the waterhole. For me, it was a very long way. I got tired often, but they would stop when I needed to. I like to flap my ears and it keeps me cool. The waterhole was crowded. Lots of other animals drinking and splashing and many babies, like me. I couldn’t wait to run to the water and play. But, my mother went first, making sure all was safe, then she let me run ahead. I ran fast and bobbed my head up and down and side to side, all the way to the waterhole! Most of the animals were on the other side, which made my family more comfortable with letting me play and roll in some mud. My mother joined me and sprayed lots of the cool water on my back and head. She rubbed my back with her trunk, giving me a little bath. It felt good but I’d much rather roll. I wish she’d hurry up because I’m getting impatient as there’s lots of thick mud just waiting for me.
After everyone drank and splashed and rolled in mud, sometimes they like to play too, we headed off in a different direction. My mother always leads, my small cousins, brother and I stay close and in the middle, my aunts and bigger sister behind and alongside. Though my mother washed the mud off me, they are still covered. Today, they go a different way. Mother is looking for good scratch trees. They like to scratch the dried mud off after a mud bath. I guess it feels good. I don’t know how to do that yet. I just follow, but the ground is scratchier, full of dried bushes that they like to stop and eat, but they just scratch me and get in my eyes. They make so much noise eating. I am very quiet suckling. They munch and snap and break limbs and twigs. Sometimes, they even break the whole tree. It’s all very noisy.
I slowed down to look at something tiny crawling on the ground, but I guess they wanted to keep moving so they gave me little pushes with their trunks. So, I kept in time. Then, I saw something else tiny scurrying across the ground and just had to see what it was. But, before I could get real close, my sister nudged my bottom and made my little legs move much faster than they would have liked.
We find a good spot with many trees. Mother chooses one for herself and starts to rub her backside along the bark. I can tell this makes her happy. She rubs and rubs. Dried mud falls to the ground in big, loose clumps. I run over to see what might be in the clumps. Nothing. Everybody else, too, finds good rub trees. My littlest cousin, though, is also too young to rub so we just stand around and look for things crawling on the ground, then investigate everyone’s mud clumps. Then, we look into the treetops for birds and monkeys because they are fun to watch.
I try to hold my trunk high to show off for my cousin, but it doesn’t want to go up very high. I keep trying but it just won’t mind and only wiggles up halfway. I guess I have to be bigger to get my trunks full cooperation. Sometimes I get mad that my trunk and little legs won’t do what I tell them, but I do like being small and getting lots of attention. I like my family’s gentle pets and pats, and trunk caresses. I like being shaded. I like to suckle. I guess being a baby elephant is probably as good as it gets. And rolling in mud.
* * * * * * *
One more miracle. The night came swiftly, a rush of sounds and scents, colors swirling above and behind clouds, light shafts of gold and peach dissolving into brilliant scarlet and purple. Then every star ever known to man plus a million more broke open the night sky, then parted slightly to make room for a waning moon. Everything fit. The symbiosis of animal and man, earth and sky was almost complete. Never had a moment in time felt more perfect.
All things connected. All things connected.
“The baobab is a most wonderful tree,” he had chuckled. “They call it the benevolent giant of the bushveld. All knuckles and knots and twisted limbs reaching to the heavens.” He smiled, “…and that is why myth says that man came to earth by sliding down the baobab’s trunk.” Giants, beautiful giants.
* * * * * * *
She closed her eyes and stood quite still, her feet firmly planted atop the sandy soil. She felt a pull at her feet, not unpleasant, but firm. She felt foot become root, arms and legs spread into massive limbs before her, her hair swirled and swept into the shape of dried leaves, her eyes and mouth became knots and hollows, her breath the lifeforce that ran up and through the tree. She looked up into the sky and was all the closer to stars and moon and the heavens he had promised her.
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