Alphabet Soup

Predator

Predator

        A lioness crouches down in the savannah’s long grass. Every step she makes is calm and calculated; even a single misstep could ruin the hunt. Despite the blazing heat of the Serengeti sun beating down mercilessly on her back, she bares the discomfort with no complaint. Nor does she twitch as flies buzz persistently around a sore on her leg. The life of a huntress was full of little annoyances like that. She wouldn’t be completely free of such nuisances until the day she died.

        The lioness creeps into her designated position with stealth and precision. Not a single blade of grass is out of place when she reaches her destination. She is downwind of a herd of zebras. The herbivores continue grazing, blissfully unaware of the huntress who is determined to take one of them down. Despite this seemingly ideal opportunity to strike, the lioness continues to wait. She mustn't strike until the plan is set in motion. Once one of the other lionesses reveals herself to the zebras, the sea of stripes will part in her wake and flee in terror. Then it would be a simple matter to spring out of hiding onto the unintelligent beasts as they ran straight towards her.

        As the lioness patiently awaits the ambush, she scans the oblivious herd before her. Not all of the zebras are suitable targets: the healthy adults could easily break a lioness’s jaw with one well timed kick from its hooves. That wouldn’t kill her per se; however, she would need to rely on the other lionesses to hunt for her. A lioness who couldn’t hunt was like a hyena who couldn’t laugh; it was a fate far worse than death. Fully intending to spend as much of her life as she could contributing to her pride’s survival, the lioness knows she will need to select one of the weaker individuals as her target.

        There are four categories of weaklings in every herd: the old, the young, the sick, and the injured. Old prey usually have very little stamina. Life on the savannah had worn them down until they might as well just present their necks to the predators and get the rest of their suffering over with. Old animals are almost always easy to kill. Still, their meat tends to be tough and stringy. Young animals are a much better option. They do not yet know the best strategies to avoid predators. Their meat is succulent and juicy, practically falling off of the bone with even the slightest lick. They are the delicacies of the lion world. Unfortunately, the youngsters were too small to feed the pride very well. 

        That leaves the lioness with only two options to choose from: the sick and the injured. With sick animals, luck is the most important factor. If an animal is just dealing with a couple of parasites, it won’t be weak enough to reduce the threat of its hooves shattering bone; if it is too severely ill, its meat might spread a horrible disease to the lions. This made hunting ill animals one massive gamble. Injured animals clearly have the most potential. Not only do they provide a sizable quantity of firm and juicy flesh for the lions to devour, but they also have a greatly reduced chance of causing any harm to the huntresses. 

        With this in mind, the lioness located a few potential targets. Multiple zebras had scars from past encounters with predators. They had escaped in the past thanks to little more than sheer luck. On closer inspection, these specimens seemed to be more cautious, often lifting their heads from their grazing to keep a sharp eye out for lions and other carnivores. They were too paranoid to fall for a trick like this easily. Others had a few open sores and blisters that oozed yellow pus. These injuries were too small to slow down the herbivores significantly.

        Finally, the lioness’s gaze rests upon an individual near the outermost layer of the herd’s protective formation. One of its hind legs appears to be causing it a great deal of pain. It can’t even put much weight on the limb; it walks around with a heavy limp as it searches for the most tender young blades of grass to graze on. It’s a miracle the creature had even managed to survive for this long considering it would be a prime candidate for a meal for any predator worth their fangs and its herd could easily leave it behind. This would be the perfect prey.

        Without any warning, an older lioness with a long scar running down her muzzle like a sandy brown bolt of lightning springs out of her hiding place. She let out a roar as she did so, frighting the zebras until muss hysteria took hold. The lioness who was still in waiting tenses her muscles. Her saliva dribbles out of her mouth as she envisions the feast that awaited her. She stays in place despite her lust for zebra flesh until the individual she had singled out became close enough for her to strike. She pounces forward and sinks her claws into its shoulders, making it scream in pain. As the other lioness springs onto the zebra’s hindquarters and bites into it, the lioness lunges at the zebra’s vulnerable throat. Once she gets a firm hold on it, she clamps her jaws down to cut off the air flow, suffocating the zebra.

        The two lionesses then begin the arduous task of dragging the carcass to the clearing where the rest of the pride waits. Between the blistering heat and the tempting scent wafting from the zebra’s still warm flesh, it takes an enormous amount of will power for the duo not to stop under the shade of an acacia tree and begin tearing away chunks of flesh for themselves. The reason for their extraordinary patience is revealed soon after they deposit the kill in the clearing for the entire pride to feast on. Besides three more lionesses and a bulky male with a thick black mane encircling his throat, six cubs scurry out to the kill. They crouch down next to their hardworking mothers as they eagerly rip small pieces of meat away for themselves.