Grand Theft Safari (3 page)

Elea ran to me. She curled up next to me and nudged my hand to tell me to pet her.

“Mari, there's so much to explore out there. You're going to love it,” Dad said.

Mom joined us by the fire. “Who's going up in the hot air balloon with me and Nigel?”

“Hot air balloon?” Dad asked. His facial expression said No way. He didn't like boats or heights.

“Yes,” Mom said, “we're flying over Maasai Mara to get a bird's eye view. I want to track the watering habits of the big cats. I need to record their habits to see how they fit into the habits of the other animals in the ecosystem.”

“I thought you only wanted to study the flamingoes,” Tomas said.

“I need a better idea of how they all work together,” Mom said. “Besides, a hot air balloon ride sounds fun.”

“Count me in,” I said.

“Not me,” Tomas spoke up. He didn't like heights either.

Dad patted Tomas on the back. “We'll stay here on the ground.”

“Elea will stay at camp with you.” Nigel paused a moment and looked seriously at Dad. “Come with me, Mr. Perez. I want to make sure you know how to use a gun.”

Nigel led Dad away from the tents.

“What's that all about?” Tomas asked.

“Nigel needs to make sure that someone at camp can use a gun in case of emergencies,” Mom said. She looked serious.

“Lions?” I asked.

“Possibly. Or poachers,” Mom said. “This is the wilderness. It is best to be prepared.”

We heard five or six gunshots from a distance.

Tomas looked just as scared as I felt.

Dad and Nigel walked back into camp.

“He did fine,” Nigel said as he gave Dad a friendly slap on the shoulder. “I think he can scare off a lion if one wandered into camp.”

Mom, Nigel, and I hopped into the truck and met up with a hot air balloon crew about ten miles away.

Aziz, our pilot, gave us a quick safety lesson.

“Hop in the basket,” Aziz told us.

Before I knew it, we were floating just above the
grass, then we gently rose higher. Soon we were floating across the savannah. I saw our campsite below us. Dad and Tomas sat in camp chairs, reading. I shouted and waved to them as we drifted over their heads. They waved back. Tomas took a picture of us.

We floated over the plains until Mom saw a river.

“Let's land there to look for signs of flamingoes.” Mom pointed to the river bank.

Aziz lowered the balloon and the basket bounced to the ground.

“Follow me,” Mom said. Aziz stayed with the balloon. Nigel came along with me and Mom.

Mom walked slowly near the water's edge, looking for telltale signs of flamingoes.

“Do you think flamingoes were here?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “I don't think so. I bet they prefer Lake Bogoria and Lake Nakuru, northeast of us. The water chemistry is different in the lakes.”

As Mom bent over her notebook, recording her observations, a massive movement exploded behind us.

“Croc!” Nigel yelled.

A giant crocodile rushed the river bank. I stumbled backward, trying to get away from the water as fast as I could. My boots got stuck in the mud. Mom bumped into me, falling into the mud.

The crocodile was out of the water now, its sharp teeth sparkling in the sunlight. From the top of the riverbank, Nigel let out a low groan. Mom and I were paralyzed with the fear. The crocodile stared into our eyes. In a slow, calm voice, Nigel said, “There's four more in the water.”

I lifted my gaze from the crocodile and saw that Nigel wasn't joking. Four crocodiles were closing in on us. I knew they were ready to feast on us, too.

Mom whispered, “Mari, on the count of three, run as fast as you can up the riverbank.”

Mom stared at the croc. “One. Two. Three, go.”

As I turned to run up the bank, I felt Mom's hand on my back, giving me a hard shove up the bank. I scrambled up the bank, flinging mud as I went. Mom was right behind me. I heard the croc's jaws snapping. I could smell its hot, foul breath.

I almost made it to Nigel when Mom screamed in terror. The crocodile had grabbed the back of Mom's coat. In a split second, Nigel grabbed my arm and yanked me behind him. Nigel stepped forward and shouted at Mom, “Carolina! Stop! Wiggle out of your coat!”

The crocodile was huge and terrifyingly strong. With Mom's coat in its mouth, it shook her back and forth.

“Wiggle, Mom, wiggle!” I screamed.

She heard us. As the crocodile shook her one way, she wiggled one arm out of the coat. The other crocodiles climbed out of the water, edging closer to Mom.

“Now turn and run!” Nigel yelled. Nigel fired a shot at the crocodiles. Two dove back into the water.

Mom twisted her body around, wiggled her other arm out of the coat, and ran up the river bank. When she reached us, she was pale and shaking. The crocodile flung her coat around on the shore, tearing it with its teeth and claws. Nigel fired another shot at the crocodile, to scare the rest of them back into the water.

I tackled Mom and wrapped my arms around her. I thought she was going to die down there.
Tears ran down my face. Nigel grabbed our arms. “Get up. We need to get away from the water. We don't need the other crocs following us up here. Get back to the balloon.”

Nigel shouted to Aziz as we ran back toward him, “Fire up the balloon! Crocs!”

Aziz wasted no time. We jumped into the basket and it lifted us into the sky.

Mom reached over and hugged me tightly. I started crying again. She squeezed me. “That was a close call. But we're okay, sweetie. We're okay.” Even though she said everything was okay, I could feel Mom trembling as she hugged me tightly.

By the time we flew back to camp, I had stopped crying. Mom was more relaxed too.

Dad must have been able to tell that something bad had happened because he came running as soon as he saw Mom. “What happened? What's wrong?”

Nigel explained the close encounter with the crocodiles.

“Alberto, we're fine,” Mom said. “It didn't have me. It had my coat.”

“That is too close!” Dad shouted. “What if it had
grabbed Marisol?”

“Alberto, please, settle down. It didn't get Marisol. And I had a way to get out. We worked together as a team. We're all right.”

Nigel nodded to reassure Dad.

“I think we're in over our heads in Africa,” Dad grumbled as he stormed off to his tent.

I looked at Mom. Dad was usually mild mannered. This was not like him.

“Honey,” she said to me, “he's just worried, scared he could have lost us. Give him some time. He'll settle down.”

“Do you think we're in over our heads here? Should we pack it up and go home?” I asked her. We'd been on lots of research trips in the wild with Mom before. Never had we come this close to dying.

“No, I don't think we should pack it up. Or give up. We made a silly mistake by the water. Now we know. We'll be more careful in the future.”

Chapter Four

ZEBRAS!

Nigel suggested we hike through the grasslands, far away from the river, to photograph animals. He said this would be fun and take Dad's mind off of the crocodile attack.

We packed our water, loaded the rifles, and followed Nigel into the tall grass. Elea led the way, wagging her tail as we followed her along the foot path.

“Stay together. We don't need a lion pride getting between us,” Nigel advised.

Dad looked nervously at Nigel.

“Alberto,” Nigel said to Dad, “We're just being prepared. Where there's zebras there's always a chance of a lion.”

We hiked for about an hour before we found a herd of zebras, grazing on the savannah.

“Awesome,” I whispered so I wouldn't startle
the zebras.

“Take a picture,” Tomas whispered to me.

I snapped a few photos. Young zebras trotted around the center of the herd, biting and kicking at one another.

“Looks like the young ones are playing,” Nigel laughed.

One zebra gave a high-pitched cry. The others looked up, noses in the wind. The herd was still. The lone zebra gave the cry again, only this time louder and more urgent.

Nigel turned to us. “Something's out there. Be still.” He had his gun ready and passed his binoculars to me.

A tawny lion sprang from the grass, rushing the herd. The zebras galloped toward to the east. Another lion came up on the right, pursuing the herd. Then another sprang from the left. The lions were closing in on the herd.

“Run,” I screamed at the zebras, “run!”

“Shush,” Mom whispered, motioning toward me.

I didn't want the zebras to die.

“It's the law of nature. The lions will catch the
slowest or the weakest.” Mom said. I knew that but I didn't want to see it.

A female lion lunged at a slower zebra at the rear of the herd. Its claws dug into the zebra's flesh. The zebra screamed as the lion pulled the zebra to the ground. The rest of the herd continued to flee but the lions circled back to feast.

I turned away because I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn't watch anymore.

“Let's go in the opposite direction. We don't need to disturb the lions,” Nigel said.

“Marisol,” Nigel asked me as we walked away, “What is the matter?”

“I can't believe we just stood by and let that happen to the poor zebra,” I said.

“Everyone must eat,” he said. “The lions take the slowest, weakest, or oldest.”

I nodded my head because I understood but I still didn't like it.

“The lions only take what they need to survive and feed their cubs. By eating the weakest of the zebras, it also keeps the zebra herd stronger,” he explained.

“I know that. I learned about the food chain a
long time ago,” I said sharply. “I just didn't really want to see it in action.”

Dad put his arm around my shoulder as we headed back to camp. As we got closer, Elea began to bark excitedly.

“Go girl,” Nigel told her. Elea ran ahead.

“She smells something out of the ordinary,” Nigel told us. “Let's see what she finds.”

We walked quietly back to camp, only to find Elea lying by the fire pit, whining.

“What is it, girl?” I asked the dog. She stared at our group of tents. I didn't see anything.

“Let's go find out what's back there,” Tomas whispered to me.

We crept quietly to the tents. I heard what sounded like licking noises. We peeked around our tent. Just behind our tent, a mother zebra was licking her newborn foal.

“Mari, look at that! It looks brand new,” Tomas said.

The mother zebra saw us and flicked her ears at us.

“It's okay, girl,” I said calmly to the zebra. She was probably too exhausted to run. The baby
wasn't even standing yet.

Tomas and I backed away so as not to scare the pair. The mother continued licking the foal, cleaning it. Soon the newborn stretched its long legs and wobbled around, trying to walk.

“It is so beautiful,” I said quietly.