Part of the Pride (15 page)

I kept calling and swimming and, one tentative step at time, Meg started to enter the water. She looked left and right and then walked in until her front legs were wet. She lunged away from the bank and swam out to me. Once she reached me she was relieved, but maybe a little nervous, too, as she clung to me like I was a human raft, with her big front paws up on my shoulders. I had some meat in the pocket of my cargo pants, so I fished some out and fed her from my hand while we swam. She loved it, and afterwards we
sat on the grassy earthen wall of the dam together in the sunshine and dried ourselves off before continuing on with the walk.

I've also been told that lions hate water and that it's virtually impossible to teach one to swim. I didn't even try to teach my lioness to swim—she saw me doing it and decided she would try it, as well. Someone called out to me to be careful in the dam; they thought Meg would claw me to death when she swam over to me, with her paws slapping the surface of the water. We played and she climbed on my back, but she didn't hurt me. Meg and Ami are a joy to work with because they don't automatically bring their claws out when they paw you. In my experience maybe one in forty lions can play like that.

All we did on the day Meg went swimming was to explore an opportunity. With captive lions there are only so many opportunities to explore, so I believe Meg was enjoying trying something different.

I think of my lions as tame, but not trained. However, just because they are tame for me does not mean they won't try and kill a stranger, and just because they're not trained does not mean they won't do what I ask them to do.

My lions respond to me the same way as my dog Valentino (named after my hero) does. If I call him, he comes for one of two reasons—because he wants food or attention. My lions respond to me for the same reasons, and because we have an established relationship.

Sometimes it doesn't work out as planned. I received a request for two male lions to be filmed for a short sunset shot that was needed for a television commercial. It sounded simple, but if there is one thing I've learned in the world of film and television, it is that there is no such thing as simple. While the crew set up, I went to check on my boys. They had clearly been fighting the night before the shoot because as soon as I walked in, I saw Tau was limping. He had received a gash in his paw from his placid, chilled brother. Napoleon almost couldn't wait to get up in the truck which was going to transport them to the more open, savannah-like area of the park
for the filming. A cage was being erected around the film crew and everything was progressing except for the second lion. Tau was not keen on getting into the truck and for a while I thought I might have to call off the shoot.

In the end I took Napoleon out of the truck and Tau seemed a little more relaxed about going up to the back of it on his own. I fed him some meat and took my time with him. Another wrangler might have bullied him into getting into the truck, using a shock stick or cattle prod, but there was no way I would do something like that. The shoot was delayed for a couple of hours as a summer storm was brewing over Johannesburg. Ominous black clouds were rising like towers in the sky, obscuring the setting sun so the crew had to set up artificial lighting.

Tau got up into the truck and I gently closed the door on him. He'd done it of his own accord. Napoleon, of course, leapt in eagerly with his brother and we trundled off to the other side of the park. My boys behaved impeccably and the film crew got the thirty seconds they needed of two majestic, maned male lions looking out into the distance while the (artificial) golden light bathed their faces. At the end of the shoot, Napoleon obediently hopped back into the truck, but Tau decided he was going nowhere.

Tau is stubborn, but that's one of the reasons I like him. He's like me. We do things at our own pace, and of our own choosing. While the crew packed up their gear and Napoleon was driven home, I sat beside Tau, resting against him, as the light faded to darkness. His paw was probably still a bit sore and once he decided it was rested enough—when he was good and ready—we called it a night.

I am not advocating my way of working with lions to anyone else—it's simply what works for me. I don't think there is anything special about me. As I've already said, if I have a “gift” it is simply my ability to follow my sixth sense. My wife doesn't think I'm anything special—she knows I am just an ordinary guy. I think it's arrogant to say, as some people do, that they have a special way of
working with animals or a special talent, and that no one can do what they do.

When I started interacting with Tau and Napoleon, it wasn't because I hoped that one day they'd be able to star in television commercials or films, or that one day I would get the opportunity to make documentaries about wildlife and a feature film. I'm just pleased that people took an interest in my animals and the way I've worked with them. We've certainly all received a good deal of publicity. I'm pleased if people see one of my documentaries and it changes the way they perceive hyenas, not as scavenging vermin, but as intelligent, sociable animals. I'm pleased if someone sees me on television with Tau and Napoleon, and they learn that lions are sociable animals that can show love to each other—and me—and that they're not the mindless, man-eating killers they're sometimes made out to be.

The positive things about documentaries, film, and television is that it allows me to get out important messages about animals and conservation to many more people than I could if I was showing groups of tourists and South African schoolchildren through the Lion Park. I'm not the first person to say this, but as human beings we need a wake-up call to start getting serious about conservation and the environment. The number of lions in Africa has dropped from about 350,000 to between 23,000 and 25,000 in less than twenty years, so anything I can do to educate people about the importance of conserving these animals is worthwhile. In fifty years time there might be no lions.

I think the Australian conservationist and documentary-maker Steve Irwin was a great guy. He brought simple messages about conservation to a huge number of people around the world. What I particularly admired about Steve was that he put his money where his mouth was. Some other wildlife presenters are just TV personalities who don't give a damn about the beaver or polar bear they're talking about. Steve was different. He bought up large tracts of
land to be set aside as wildlife areas. If I could buy up some land and convert it to a national park, I would do it, but I can't. So I keep making the films and the documentaries. If all the filmmaking and television and publicity went away tomorrow, though, I wouldn't shed a single tear for myself because it would give me more time to spend with my animal friends and my wife. I would shed a lot of tears, however, for the animals and the environment. They would be the ones losing out if the message of conservation couldn't be spread any longer.

Often, when people ask me how I work with the animals, they usually want to know why I do what I do. It's not for money. I didn't start spending half my days at the Lion Park, or take a full-time job there, because the money was good or I thought that we might make a movie one day. I formed relationships with those animals and sometimes those relationships have allowed me to get my friends to work with me. In the early days I did what I did out of a sense of obligation. My job as the animal enrichment, or animal welfare officer, at the Lion Park was to make sure the lions and hyenas and other predators at the park had the best possible quality of life for enclosed animals. Part of my job was to provide them with stimulation, but what I quickly found was that this was a two-way street. I got as much, if not more, enjoyment from the burgeoning relationships I was forming with the animals as they did.

One day I approached the enclosure of another lion, Siam. I was surprised to see him by the fence and calling me. “
Wuh-ooow
,
wuh-ooow
,” he said to me.

“Hello, my boy. This is a surprise.” What was surprising for me about this little encounter was that Siam was sharing his area with a female and was mating. I'd always been told to stay away from mating lions, and that they would not want me near them. I went in and
spent some time with Siam, rubbing his head against mine, grooming him, scratching him, and generally hanging out while his female companion lazed nearby. At the end of our time together, I said, “Thanks, Siam.” For what ever reason, he had invited me in. I got a huge kick out of that.

I've found that Napoleon is happy to have me around him when he's mating, but other people who work with lions don't believe me when I tell them about Siam and Napoleon. The funny thing is that even though he doesn't mind me being there, Napoleon won't let Tau near him when he's mating. Tau won't have any other male around him when he's mating.

So where do I fit in—what's my place in the lives of these animals, and how do they perceive me? The short answer is that I don't know. Napoleon and I have a better relationship than Tau and I do when it comes to women. Don't get me wrong, Tau and I have a good relationship, but he doesn't trust me with his chicks. The human world's the same; there are some of my friends I trust around my wife, and others I wouldn't. Could the relationship between Tau and me sour one day to the point where he sinks his teeth into me and kills me? I don't think so, but you can never say never. What drives one human to kill another? Women, possibly. Even if one of my lions killed me, I'm sure that, given the chance to live my life over again, I wouldn't do a thing differently. I've learned so much from the various relationships in my life, including my animal relationships. I was defiant to the point of insolence earlier in my life, but in that respect I was probably like a two-or three-year-old lion, finding my way in the world and relishing any opportunity to challenge authority.

My relationships with lions and other animals have put me in very good stead for my relationships with people. When working with predators, you have to be more aware of behavior and behavioral patterns. I've found I've become more attuned to human body
language, as well, able to determine if people are agitated, paying attention, or cross. With people, sometimes you don't want to accept the behavior they're exhibiting and so you might push some buttons to get a different response. You don't do that with lions as you will get a response you really don't want.

I've changed in the ten years I've known Tau and Napoleon. We've grown together and our relationship has changed. I don't go in with them now because I feel sorry for them, because they live in an enclosure instead of the wild, and I think it's my job to enrich their lives. If the truth be told, Tau and Napoleon have flipping good lives, for lions, and even for people, considering the conditions some humans have to endure in Africa. I spend time with my brothers Tau and Napoleon now because I want to, and because I get something out of it. I am part of their lives now and they are part of mine.

I miss them when I have to go away. In a way, it limits me, but not more than any other relationship with a close family member or a pet. I couldn't leave them for six months, and even after three weeks away from them Mandy says I am like a bear with a sore head. I worry about what will happen to them if they outlive me, but I suppose that is a normal element of a family relationship. Who is to say what's normal in any family?

So, will there be a Kevin Richardson text book on how to keep lions in captivity? The answer is a definite no.

I'm happy to share my rules for working around lions with people, but they're mostly common sense. Rule one is don't wake me when I'm sleeping. Rule two is don't come near me when I'm eating (unless I'm feeding a lion from my hand, and I'm not advocating anyone try that, simply because it works for me). Rule three is don't surprise me (make sure I know you're coming closer), and rule four is when I tell you I've had enough of you, I mean it. Any lion keeper
would say pretty much the same thing, but could I teach someone else to do what I do in the way that I do it?

I could teach someone how to ride a motorcycle, but I couldn't teach them to do a lap of Kyalami in one minute, forty-nine seconds. You have to learn that for yourself, and the only way to learn how to go fast is to take it slow.

SEVEN
 
Managing the Lives of Others

 

 

 

When I visited the zoo as a kid I worked out that I didn't like zoos. Today, some people would say that the Lion Park, and the facility where my lions now live, the Kingdom of the White Lion, are little more than zoos with large enclosures. I would disagree with that analysis.

There are some people who think that no wild animal should ever be enclosed, anywhere, no matter what the conditions, and that all animals should live in the wild. That's a nice theory, but it becomes unworkable if you challenge the definitions of “enclosure,” “conditions,” and “the wild.”