Journey to Freedom (2 page)

Away from his enclosure with its concrete-filled trench and chicken-wire shield, the honey badger was able to tunnel
his way to freedom during the night. The surrounding countryside, which was well wooded, swallowed him up. No search was mounted. The chances of finding the animal were considered to be minimal and the badger was officially regarded as lost. The lionesses called for him in vain.

‘Whatever will happen to us?’ Ellen asked her sister morosely. ‘We’re on our own here now.’

Lorna slumped against the base of the tree and stared out across the empty zoo. ‘I have a feeling,’ she said, ‘we’re going to find out very soon.’

Two days later the uneasy silence at Lingmere was abruptly broken. Joel’s strategy had worked and a journalist and photographer from a national newspaper arrived to interview the keeper and the zoo owners. The lionesses were photographed looking forlorn and abandoned and their story was published the next day. It told of the plight of the lonely lions, condemned to an early death because no other zoo would offer them refuge. There was tremendous public interest. Television crews visited Lingmere and Ellen and Lorna were filmed for the evening news bulletins.
The sisters were unsettled by the sudden appearance of these eager people after so long a period of quiet. They roared nervously and their distress was there for all to see and hear on the TV screen. They became a national concern and the newspaper grabbed the opportunity and rode to their rescue, promising to undertake the transfer of the lionesses to a suitable sanctuary in Africa. No expense would be spared and, effectively, Ellen and Lorna were adopted by the paper. Joel would be retained to oversee their welfare during their journey and resettlement. It was hoped that eventually the lionesses could be prepared to fend for themselves. The ultimate goal was to release them into one of the great African game parks where they could roam free. Meanwhile their diet improved. The newspaper wanted them to look in the peak of condition whilst they were in its care.

Joel was delighted with the turn of events. He knew he couldn’t have planned things better: he had saved the Lingmere lions and he was rightly proud of himself. He spent more time with Ellen and Lorna, talking to them about their future as he watched them eating or resting.

The lionesses noticed their keeper’s brighter mood and they appreciated the extra rations. They felt more confident themselves.

‘I don’t think we have anything more to worry about,’ Lorna said as she watched Joel cautiously clearing up bones and other debris from their enclosure. ‘We may be alone here but we’ve never fed better.’

Ellen licked a paw and rubbed it over her face and whiskers. Lorna’s words had reminded her of the honey badger’s disappearance. ‘I do wonder what happened to Ratel,’ she said. ‘I miss him.’

‘So do I,’ said Lorna. ‘He was a chirpy little creature and always ready to chat.’

‘Do you think we’ll ever see him again?’

‘How can we?’ Lorna returned. ‘
He’s
gone for good but we’re not going anywhere.’

She couldn’t have been more wrong, of course. Arrangements were in hand with carriers for the collection of the lions and their flight to the African continent. A sanctuary for orphaned and injured game in East Africa had given its support to the scheme. Its staff were well qualified to care for big cats and had the necessary experience for the difficult task of training them to catch and kill their own prey. The place was called Kamenza. A countdown to the day of departure began in the newspaper.

Lorna and Ellen continued innocently to enjoy the new regime. Joel, always kindly and calm, had earned their trust. He understood the sisters: how close they were, how they relied on each other’s company, showing affection in so many small ways. He loved to see them lying together in the sun, one often with a paw draped over the other’s back for reassurance. He really cared about their welfare and he was keen for their transfer to be carried out smoothly.

The all-important day dawned. A truck arrived containing two large crates. The lionesses first had to be immobilised with darts bearing a muscle relaxant. Then they would be tranquillised and loaded into the crates. The operation was simple enough and Joel was confident there would be no hitch. He advised the specialist vet that Ellen should be darted first as she was the more likely of the two to fret if she saw her sister disabled. The man took aim and scored a direct hit at once. Ellen yelped and leapt away, but the drug soon took effect and she fell on her side. Lorna was immediately
suspicious and roared defiance. The vet reloaded his air rifle, and Lorna bounded off. The vet tried to keep her in his sights.

‘Quickly,’ Joel called to the carriers’ men. ‘While she’s over there we can get Ellen outside.’ With great care the limp body of Ellen was lifted and carried out of the enclosure, and she was soon safely inside one of the crates.

Lorna became frantic. With her sister removed, she was terrified of being left entirely alone. Roaring continually, she leapt around the paddock. The vet tried another shot but it was wasted. There was now a real problem, for the noise of the gun had frightened her further, and she was now in such a panic that she would be extremely difficult to hit. She leapt blindly for the branches of the single tree, which seemed to her dazed mind to be a sort of escape route, and climbed upwards.

Joel held his head in his hands. ‘It won’t bear her weight!’ he shouted anxiously.

The vet tried desperately to load a third dart and take aim. His hands shook slightly. The branches of the tree bowed beneath Lorna’s heavy body. She nearly lost her grip and tried to scramble higher still. The vet fired again and missed. The branches cracked.

‘She’s falling!’ Joel bellowed. The men jumped clear.

From her high point, Lorna lost her balance and made one final leap to save herself as the tree’s topmost branches bent and shattered. She crashed to the ground beyond the enclosure fence, landing like a domestic cat on all fours. She raced away at once, instinctively heading for the open gate of the zoo compound where the truck had entered.

For a moment or two Joel, the vet and the other men stood still, frozen to the spot by the horror of the situation. The vet broke the silence. ‘Come on, Joel.
The Land-Rover! We’ve got to get after her before it’s too late! We may be able to get close enough for one last shot.’ They dashed for the vehicle, while the other men milled about uncertainly.

Lorna headed for cover, still frightened and running at full stretch. She saw a clump of trees which marked the edge of the forest. To reach them she had to cross the access road, and then a field, bordered by a low fence, in which sheep were grazing placidly in the sunshine. Lorna crossed the empty road and vaulted the fence with ease. The sheep scattered to all corners of the field as the huge beast plunged through their midst. The Land-Rover entered the field through a gate and hurtled after her. The vet leant out of one side of the vehicle, his rifle poised.

‘Try to keep steady,’ he shouted tensely to Joel. The Land-Rover bounced and bucked over the uneven ground as Joel wrestled with the steering-wheel. But the men were gaining on the lioness.

Lorna was tiring. She wasn’t used to any kind of vigorous exercise, and fear alone kept her aching limbs moving. The noise of the car and the men’s voices seemed to be right on her tail. The tree-line was so close now. Her legs toiled over the turf. If she could just . . .

‘Hold tight!’ the vet called, leaning far out of the side of the Land-Rover. ‘I think I can get her now!’ Then there was a sudden cry of warning, followed by a thud as the vehicle hit a grass tussock at thirty miles an hour and rolled over. The vet was thrown out of the side and Joel was left hanging in mid-air, still clutching the wheel. He managed to pull himself clear. Luckily his companion was merely shaken; he had only just missed being crushed by the vehicle as it rolled. The last they saw of Lorna was her tail vanishing between the trees.

Neither man was badly hurt. They sat on the grass for a while to recover themselves, then they righted the car. There was little damage done; it had had a soft landing.

‘We’re in real trouble now,’ Joel muttered. ‘Lorna could go anywhere. There’s no vehicle access to the forest. It’s very dense – impassable in places – and a lot of it’s on rocky ground.’

The vet looked grim. ‘The newspaper people are going to be delighted about this,’ he said.

‘What do we do with Ellen?’ Joel asked himself aloud. ‘Does she go on her own?’

‘We’d better get back,’ was all the vet said. ‘We need to warn the police.’

Joel drove the Land-Rover back across the field a lot more hesitantly than before. They reached the zoo and were bombarded with questions by the men from the carriers. Joel and the vet explained what had happened, and the men went into the office building together to report and ask for instructions. There were long conversations on the telephone. The police arrived on the scene.

Later, a distraught Ellen, confined to her crate, roared for her sister. But Lorna couldn’t hear her. She was lying exhausted on a bed of dead leaves in the thickest part of the woodland.

It was decided that Ellen would make the trip to Africa without Lorna. The transport arrangements had been made and paid for. The flight was booked. Ellen had to go. She couldn’t be put back into the lions’ old
enclosure at Lingmere, for the zoo had closed for good. Joel was booked on the same flight, so he had to leave the hunt and attempted recapture of Lorna to others; he could play no part in that. He had to look after the handover of Ellen at Kamenza, and expected to stay in Africa for a week.

Lorna awoke in darkness with an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. For a while she lay still. She didn’t remember at first where she was. But she knew she was completely alone. ‘Sister! Sister!’ she bellowed in her misery. Her alien roars echoed through the forest, baffling the night creatures.

There was one creature, however, who recognised the sound immediately. He had been familiar with those cries most of his life. The honey badger heard the lioness and knew that he was not the only stranger in the woodland. He stood by the entrance to the underground den he had dug for himself following his escape.

‘The lions must have escaped too,’ he murmured. ‘But that was a cry of distress. I wonder what is wrong.’

The roaring continued but became more distant. The badger decided to search for his friends. ‘I may be of some comfort,’ he thought. ‘Company’s difficult to come by when everyone’s a stranger.’

There was no answering call to Lorna’s cries. Ellen was far away. Lorna’s last memory of her sister was seeing her carried lifeless from the only home they had ever known. The lioness was frightened, sad and thirsty. The chase across the field had tired her dreadfully and she longed for a drink. She padded through the gloomy forest, fearing every moment that the men would suddenly pounce on her and shoot her down as they had her sister. There didn’t seem to be any water anywhere. She had no real idea how to look for it, but her discomfort made her keep moving. There was almost no sound in the woods. Layers of pine needles under the trees deadened her steps and seemed also to muffle the slightest noise. An occasional bird call from a high branch was all that could be heard. There was no breeze.

Lorna reached a clearing in the forest. On the other side of it she at last caught the tinkling sound of running water. She wasn’t familiar with the sound, but the scent of the water made her bound forward. A narrow stream ran between grassy banks. Lorna splashed eagerly into it and lapped greedily. Then she lay on the bank in a patch of moonlight, wondering what to do next. She fell into slumber again and was only woken by the early morning bird chorus. She got up, recalling at once that she was no longer in her usual surroundings, that she was horribly alone and
that she hadn’t been fed. Nor would she be fed. Lorna had the intelligence to realise that she had run away from her only source of food. Hunger and a feeling of isolation made her roar again. The birds were silenced briefly; then a medley of alarm calls rang out from a dozen different perches in the trees.

Lorna was deaf to them. She paced along the stream bank, her great head held low. The muscles of her neck and shoulders rippled with each step as her tan body passed in and out of the shadows. Scores of eyes hidden in the foliage watched the huge animal move along. Lorna stopped at a point where the stream entered a narrow cave mouth. She saw that it continued to run on into the darkness inside. The cave entrance was well hidden by growths of bramble and fern which trailed down across it. Lorna put her head through the opening, blinking curiously, but ventured no further into the interior. Then she wandered on, her stomach rumbling constantly.

She had a dim feeling that she was taking herself farther and farther away from the one place where there had always been food. ‘Perhaps I should go back,’ she said to herself. ‘Maybe there
is
meat there still.’ She hesitated, remembering the events of yesterday. ‘No,’ she growled. ‘I won’t. Not in daylight. But when it’s dark again . . .’