PDA

View Full Version : The Struggle for life



Kudu
11-10-2009, 11:43 PM
As I drank my tea, the sun rose like a red ball, streaking the gurgling eddies of the Zambezi with delicate shades of pink. Three-hundred meters away, Buffalo were spilling onto the grassy dambo which bordered my camp. I felt a warm glow; now at last the herd had accepted my presence in their favourite grazing ground. I collected my fishing gear and rifle and headed for the river, where a dugout lay tied to a pole.


Across the first 60 meters stretch of water was a sandbank overgrown with drooping reeds festooned with old weaver bird nests. The small bay facing the camp contained large bream. I poled across quietly, secoured the dugout and cast in. In an hour I had a dozen three-pounders. Then the sudden bob of a knobbly croc head sent me scrambling back up the bank. The eyes studied me, then the head turned and submerged, leaving only the ”V”of its bow wave as it swam away.


The buffalo appeared as dark smudges against the green on the high edge of the opposite bank as they grazed their way towards the little path I had just used. The big bull lumbered to the edge, stepped over and, squatting, slid down the steep drop, raising a black cloud of dust. He thumped his way through a belt of grass and emerged from the crackling reeds, trailing wisps of grass on his horns. From above the two young bulls watched, jaws masticating in a circular movement. Like a launched ship, the big bull moved through the shallow pool and splashed knee-deep into the river, sending droplets sparkling in the sunlight. A brief look around and he began sucking up the water.


Suddenly I saw a bow wave veering for his submerged nose. Up on the bank one of the bulls snorted his warning. As the big bull lifted his dripping muzzle a yellow blur exploded under it. The bull stumbled to his knees, rump in the air. His head went under and a plume of spray shot skyward as the serrated tail of a huge croc lashed the air. The tail thudded down and, like a ”C”, arched itself against the bull, churning up mud. The bull jerked back, brining the croc’s snout to the surface. Half open, the jaws seemed to grin, the massive teeth buried. As the snout submerged, the bulls head dipped under to eye level. Reddened foam floated away in blobs.

The bull swayed. With a heave, he got one foreleg up. Another heave and he got the other up. Then, one by one, he gathered his his hind leg under him, muscles bulging, and pulled. Bubbles streamed from his nose, his trembling muscles cracked. Already his belly was swelling into a ball. He had to have air. Water around his head boiled. A quick jerk back and he gulped some air with a hiss. The lashing tail churned more mud as the croc fought to keep the nose submerged. The bull’s next heave lifted the whole eighteen foot croc to the surface, and then it disappeared in red spray.

With his belly now nearly twice its normal size; the bull lunged with his horns. This fateful step brought water up to his neck. As he fought to recover, his single red eye, rimmed with white, stared at the croc. Slowly he gathered his back legs again, and half squatting in an attempt to keep his nose up, took the strain. The foam dispersed and the croc’s snout was just visible. Suddenly water exploded as the bulls head jerked fee into the air. He thumped one leg out sideways, just in time to prevent himself from rolling over. At that moment, an eight foot fan of cascading water beside him hid him from view.


His breath screaming, the bull gulped air. His body rocked with each suck; blood sprayed the water as he blew with a “woof”. Below his left eye and lower neck a fold of red and white skin hung down, baring his jaw and teeth. With all four legs hammering away like piston he slewed away from the water. Body heaving, he laid his head flat, ears dropping. The loss of blood was beginning to tell, making me think the jugular had been ruptured. Tiny wavelets lapped at the bull’s side; this seemed to revive him and up went his head. Mechanically he brought up his legs, swayed and after a brief struggle rose with a groan. Trembling legs spread wide, his head dropped, dripping more blood into the growing stain on the sand.


The young bull was still watching, but the other was shepherding the herd away. Now the big bull tried to turn sideways with the sway of his body, pushing out one leg he lumbered round, having to break into quick, short steps to avoid losing his balance. His snort gushed out more blood, partly blinding him. With the next step, his legs folded and he thudded down with a loud groan, nose buried in the sand. Laboriously he straightened his back legs, which brought up his rump. By heaving backwards he got his front legs straight. Weaving, he staggered into the reeds, smearing dark blotches on to the green. But now his swaying had become erratic, his next step veered him off the path. As I boarded the dugout, he crashed with a plaintive groan. His struggles to free his legs rolled him onto his side. I saw the back legs twitch with jerks, and he was gurgling throatily.

Two heaves on the pole sent the dugout hissing onto the sand. I leaped out, rifle ready. Slowly I walked up. The bull raised his shaking head, eyes glazed with blue film. Stretching his neck, his nose pointing to the sky, he snorted, spraying me with blood. A muscle twitched on the ribs. Drawing in deep breath, he sounded his mournful ‘Eh-eh-eh-orr-rr death bellow. The twitching ceased. A shudder and his head dropped with a muffled thud.

The Hermit
11-10-2009, 11:50 PM
Wow now there is an eye for detail... almost an artistic death! Did you write that?

David Heitsman
11-11-2009, 12:24 AM
Had me spell bound.

d6dan
11-11-2009, 09:31 AM
I was left in Awe!, Felt like I was right there. Great story:) thanks for posting.

Blacktail
11-11-2009, 03:46 PM
WOW!!!!:cool:

That's all I can say:wink: