The sun ran high over the wheat-colored fields of the Serengheti plain. My khaki jeep ambled along, the wheels fitting easily into the ruts carved into the ground by thousands of others before me. I found an ideal spot and stopped the jeep, adjusting my classic safari pants and shirt, looking for the life of me like the Crocodile Hunter. My high-riding boots and thick socks protected my ankles from the scratchy grass. I couldn't say the same for my legs. White lines were etched across my calves from the weeds as I passed.I crouched behind a fallen tree and watched the pride of lions a few hundred feet in front of me. The adults sat lazily in the grass as their young cubs play-fighted, tugging at each other's ears and being knocked over.
A beautiful male with a dark, flowing mane slowly got up to move to a new patch of shade. One of the cubs, thinking his father wanted to play, leaped up and clapped his jaws around dear ole' dad's throat. It was a funny sight, one that I wanted to capture. I lifted my camera up and snapped the picture, but must have been too late. When I lowered the camera, the cub had been reprimanded, and was bounding off to join its brothers and sisters. Disappointed, I took a few more photos of the pride, then walked quietly back to the jeep and left the peaceful family scene.
When in the darkroom of my home near Zaire, I was developing the pictures of the lions. One photo made me take a second look as the colors emerged from the white paper. It was from when the male lion had been bitten by his cub. I thought I had missed the moment, but instead, had managed to capture a most unusual expression. The great lion's muzzle and, indeed, his whole face, was scrunched up in a look of disgust at his young son's foolish behavior, just before he pushed the cub away. As the photo became clearer, and the colors grew sharper, I laughed at this peculiar picture, and realized that although I may have missed one moment, I managed to catch another, one equally as valuable.
