3. Protective Moment

“Anyone see one?” I ask.  I hear, “Nope,” from the second row of the Jeep.  “Me neither.  Nothing,” from the first row.  “Just a lot of tall grass.”  We continue driving in search of twelve lions that our guides said are in the area.  The pride was spotted nearby this morning.  We all know they could be anywhere by now.  I look out across the warm landscape to the sun that is sinking lower with every passing minute.  Each set of sixty seconds means our “golden hour” of light is melting away and it will soon be dark.  I double check the settings on my camera and take a test shot of the grass, which on my LCD screen, is mostly gold, copper and green.  The colors and textures are luscious, but a lion in the middle would complete the image.  We continue driving and head up an embankment to get a better look from a higher elevation.  “Anyone?  Anything?”  There is a collective “no,” and I can feel the disappointment as we head back down to the grass.  The thought crosses my mind that we might not find them.  It’s tough to think that we were so close and didn’t see the pride, which would be an extraordinary experience.  “Wait,” someone says.  “The other Jeep is stopping.”  I look forward to the other members of our group who are in the vehicle ahead of us and see that they all have their lenses pointed to the left.  “There!” Someone excitedly says.  “In the grass!  I think that’s a lion’s head peeking out!”  The sighting is confirmed by an announcement coming over our radio from the other Jeep.  As we inch forward, a cub comes into view, and I quickly take the shot before it lies down and disappears in the grass.  A few seconds go by and then another cub pops up.  Then another.  They curiously look around and then disappear, camouflaged by the terrain.  We sit waiting for another cub to pop up, but nothing is happening.  We wait…  and wait…  and wait.  The light is fading, but I’m trying not to let my hope do the same.  I’m waiting to see all twelve lions.  I pan the area with my lens…  They’ve got to be here …  To get a new perspective, our Jeep changes position.  We all intensely look because we’re running out of daylight.  “There!” someone says.  Our driver strategically moves to the area where some movement was spotted, and I can clearly see two lionesses and a cub through a small clearing.  We inch as close to them as possible, and I watch as the cub keeps nudging one of the lionesses.  She calms him by putting her paws around his shoulders and places her chin on the top of his head, then they all look in my direction as if they were posing for me.  I take their image, trying to contain my surprise.  I can’t believe that I’ve captured this protective, motherly instinct with my lens.