THE NATURALIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 2809, 15 January 1908, Page 76

THE NATURALIST.

Catching Lion Cubs.

To steal a litter of iion cube is not so difficult a feat as might be supposed. In the heart of the deepest, darkest tangle of cane, thorn, and bushrope the lion mother bas worked a clearing and scratched and' gathered a nest of leaves and' -grass upon which to bed her young. -Here the yellow babies lie, huddled and mewing, or sprawling over one another in. kitten play, while the anxious mother, fawning close beside her magnificent lord am? master lies, chin on forepaws, eyes closed, and ears alert and twitching. Not in the wide world, it would seem, was family -ever so protected.

And yet, safely hidden in a thicket to leeward, where no wind can carry the strong human scent, recognisable to almost every warm-blooded creature except man himself, the trapper is hard at work. Beside him is a pair of Kaffir hunters with his guns and repeating rifles, and hour after hour the men " sit silently x until the lion parents, unsuspicious of impending danger, depart to hunt for their meal. Often, as a preliminary, the male lion lowers his nose toward the ground and emits that terrifying reverberating bass roar that strikes panic to i!he hearts of all living things within earshot and startles them to a betraying flight — the very object of the roar, it is supposed. The crack of a dried twigr sounds sharply ; scarcely more than as if waftod by a sudden breeze the brush and bushes rustle and part_, and with kingly head uplifted and nostrils scenting; the magnificent monarch steps, soft-padded and noiseless, through the thicket, followed by his regal spouse. One hour, two, and even three may pass before the lions have struck down their buck; and the kidnappers, making sure only that the formidable beasts have gone, move to their robbery.

On hands and knees, creeping and orawiing as only experienced hunters can, noiseless and ever ready for sudden attack, the men progress through the maze of cane and vine and bush until they come to the thicket where the young ones Tie asleep. They may be kittens, with eyes scarcely more than open, and may be picked up and bagged before they can stagger away on t»'ny legs : or they may be four-week -old whelps, lively and frisky, showing their inborn hatred of man by spitting and trying to scratch when picked up in arms. Four, five, even six young lions may be gathered up in this way, to be borne _ to ■the nearest station and raised in captivity, while out of the depths of the jungle deep into the night roll the rumbling challenges of the bereaved parents. — From the Strand Magazine.