Notes On Wild UH-OH Moments

-- Part 2 --
Uh-Oh Happens.
Sometimes unexpected stuff happens that contradicts everything we've previously experienced, something so entirely different from what we expected that we're forced to re-examine our thinking and consider whether our previous beliefs and impressions were shortsighted and dangerously mistaken.

That's what I call having an Uh-Oh moment. Last year in Africa I had a handful.

On my first afternoon in Tanzania's Selous Game Reserve a young bull elephant standing a few dozen yards away suddenly turned, glanced back in our direction, raised his trunk and began staring at us as though trying to decide if it'd be worth his time to start bouncing our frail little bodies on the ground like rubber balls.

It was like watching a life-sized movie as the elephant threw back his ears, trumpeted a blast that shook the grass at my feet, and started pawing angrily at the ground ... like a gargantuan nitro-fueled dragster spinning its tires before leaving the starting line.

That's a good signal it might be time to say Uh-Oh.

(Here's two important way to tell elephants and dragsters apart: Elephants exit the starting line in a way that makes fuel dragsters look like they're standing still, and elephants reach the finish line carrying a trunk-full of nauseatingly effective and creative methods of finishing you off.)

I love elephants; along with dolphins they're probably the most magnificient and intelligent creatures God created. It's great fun standing behind a tank-proof iron fence at the zoo and tossing peanuts in their direction.

But replace that fence with a few clumps of dry grass as the only thing separating you from 10 tons of angry elephant zeroed in your direction, and you might start wishing the only elephant you'd ever seen was on display in a museum.

You might even momentarily hate elephants while you're wondering what that left tusk is gonna feel like as it twists out the other side of your shirt ... but after Jumbo Junior charged within 20 feet his trunk must've got a good whiff of my perspiration, which caused him to swerve off and disappear down the trail.

A few days later we were walking back to the truck when both our guide and game scout suddenly froze and held themselves in mid-stride, stiff as statues for what seemed like two minutes without indicating why (this kind of behavior from a Professional Game Scout in itself is a minor Uh-Oh moment).

I hadn't seen or heard anything unusual (it doesn't help that I'm practically deaf in one ear) but the vibe was distinctly scary and Bad. I mean, could something out there really be so close that it was already watching us ... and we didn't know it?

Things got more intense in another second when the guide hissed No move. I didn't bother with correcting his grammar; instead I scanned over the thornbrush only a few yards away and tried to figure out what was happening.

Then our guide whispered what sounded like Simba and motioned one finger for us to start moving slowly to the truck.

Simba, in case you missed The Lion King, is Swahili for Lion (I don't know what the Swahili word is for Uh-Oh).

As we climbed aboard the truck even us Americans heard what turned out to be the growling of three lionesses. We just needed the height of the truck bed to finally see them.

I've read several newpapers accounts of what Park Rangers found the morning after tourists on photo safaris got unintentionally left in the bush overnight by distracted drivers and tour guides. Let's say that lions do very thorough work when they want to, because the medical reports were colorfully descriptive in every detail.

I imagine that suddenly finding yourself alone and on foot with night approaching and having no weapon available more dangerous than a water bottle in the same place where you'd been merrily burning film on spectacular lion action-shots only a few minutes ago would create a severely gut-wrenching Uh-Oh moment.

I'm also pretty sure any noble impression you previously entertained about Lions being warm, cuddly and misunderstood big kitty cats would vaporize pretty quickly: without bars, cages and enclosed trucks to protect us, human beings fall straight to the bottom of the food chain ... in pieces.

But still some people will argue and deny what should be obvious: large predators see us as protein, and couldn't care less about friendship or posing for photos. They're yawning and relaxing for the cameras only long enough to see if anyone onboard's stupid enough to climb down and become a human filet.

Most of us have a tendency to consider animals as friends and attribute personalities to them consistent with what we already feel about ourselves. House cats are adorably amusing and cute while they're playing with yarn, but we overlook that Tabby's only practicing with thread till he can get his claws around something squishy and warm that might taste good.

As human beings we assume intelligence and technology assure our domination, and as individuals each of us feels pretty sure we've got a grip on perceiving the world around us ... that we'll never have a terminally unpleasant Uh-Oh moment ... so long as our guide makes sure we're on the truck when it's time to be carried off in safety and comfort to the hot meal waiting back at the lodge.

Start moving slowly to the truck ...

--next Part 3: Life's So Perfect Here In Wonderland! --