Special Projects: How you can help us save lions!

(Ecozone, Oxygen Magazine Spring 2005)

By Johan Liebenberg

In a way, fighting the powerful canned hunting industry is like lighting a candle in a great darkness.

I heard a man next to me mumbling, "This is crazy".

Everyone else thinks it's crazy too, but nobody spoke. They just watched. They watched as the man stepped into the encampment in a kind of breathless trance of fear and breathless disbelief

Then I heard a woman next to me, say. "Oh, God, here it comes".

The lions, a male and three females, who were lying under the tree, had been following the man's movements with a kind of lazy interest. Yet the moment the man was inside, one of the lionesses rose to her feet. Her tail was twitching. It was a bad sign. She started off. She came bounding towards the man fifty meters away and we all held our breath.

A fully grown lion weighs in the region of 250kg, and is about 2.4m tall, from close-up a lion, even if loping towards you, is an awesome sight.

The man stood his ground. Less than a meter from him, the lioness unexpectedly reared up on her hind legs. She placed a pair of massive paws on the man's shoulders. The man steadied himself and began to stroke the lioness's mane the way you would fondly stroke a house cat. But this was not a house cat. Then the man smiled and we began to relax. It was clear the man felt no fear whatsoever!

Paul Hart, who is 36, established the Drakenstein Lion Park in 1998. A lion park in the heart of the Cape winelands strikes one as slightly unusual. But, of course, centuries ago the Cape lion roamed here freely but has now become all but extinct. Today the Drakenstein Lion Park houses 15 lions, its maximum capacity. The lions are separated by prides, with each pride designated its own camp. These lions are rescued from zoos or circuses. What they have in common is that they find themselves in distressing circumstances. Such circumstances could include lions who have been bred and earmarked for hunting or, as it it notoriously known, canned hunting.

Paul, who was born and raised at the Cape, grew up with pets from an early age. These included cats, bullterriers and German shepherds. Because of his passion for animals, he went to work at a Zoo and, as he put it, discovered here not only his true love of the Big Cats- but how lions should not be kept.

Eight years ago he married a radiotherapist who treats cancer patients and today she helps with raising the babies (lions). Their one son, Shane, is aged seven. He adores lions, just like his father, and has had the cubs sleeping in his bed with him.

Paul comes across as an even-tempered man, with a reserve bordering on shyness; whilst not ill at easy in the company of people, one gets the feeling he'd rather be spending his time with the lions.

What is clear is that the issue of canned hunting profoundly affects him. By his own admission he feels outrage and anger about the treatment and exploitation of our wildlife. The whole lion issue is just horrifying, he told me. Lions are majestic, noble animals and should not have to endure the cruelty mankind inflict on them. The way a nation treats its national heritage (especially its wildlife) is a reflection of society as a whole, he said, adding: Canned hunting shows a complete absence of any moral compunction on the part of the hunters and breeders.

I asked Paul what price a lion fetches as a trophy today.

A lion's price depends on its physical characteristics. A white lion recently hunted cost R1.6 million, he said and told me that the average price is about 15 000 US$.

As I listened I was reminded of an incident a few years ago. I was returning from Windhoek and staying over in a hotel close to Vioolsdrif, the border with the Cape. Before dinner I had a drink in the bar where I got talking to two fellows who said they owned game farms in both in Namibia and South Africa. We made small talk and it was pleasant enough with only the three of us in bar, apart from the barman. Then the one fellow's cell phone rang and I was surprised to see their demeanor change. They were no longer two affable guys in the pub, ready to buy drinks; they had changed, suddenly. They had become, quite suddenly, very businesslike.

The conversation went something like this:

Has the American arrived? & Good. Okay, don't open the lion's cage yet. Wait another two hours or so. By ten o' clock tonight he'll be really thirsty. Tell the American to be ready. The lion will go down to the water. He can shoot him there. Yes & let me know if there's any problem.

This conversation, overheard in a bar, brought home to me the horror of canned hunting. I will not forget it, not as long as I live.

The reason why people like Paul Hart will always face an uphill battle against canned hunting and breeding is because they are up against a very powerful lobby with lots of money. This money is made from hunters from abroad who pay in powerful currencies.

Six months after overhearing the conversation of the two game farm owners in the bar, I was waiting for my flight at Windhoek airport. Next to me was another queue. In it stood fifteen German tourists, all with their very expensive rifles in their cases. The cases were sleek and looked brand new. The hunting tourists were returning to Stuttgart. They did not speak; they did not smile and in fact looked glum. It occurred that if trophy hunting gave them any pleasure, it was of a fleeting kind. I calculated that at roughly R1 million per lion, the chances were that R15 million had been spent on lion hunting alone. That's not counting other big game, or the money spent on accommodation etc. With this kind of money being spent on hunting, it is not surprising Paul Hart faces an uphill battle from especially the hunting fraternity. What he does reminds me rather of someone lighting a candle in the dark. Even though the darkness is overwhelming, its tiny illumination seems to momentarily outstrip the darkness that lies beyond its penumbra. It is a brave act, a lifetime commitment in fact. But its fragile light is threatened to be overwhelmed by the darkness at any instant. When I heard about the rescue of Bai, I was reminded at once of how wonderful a deed it is, but how small, compared to the worldwide occurrence of canned hunting.

Bai's Story

Bai and her two siblings were born in a zoo in the town of Yaounde, Cameroon, on the 22nd November 2004. Conditions in the zoo were atrocious. The small barred cage severely restricted movement and was rarely cleaned. Feeding was erratic because there was not enough money. Bai's future looked bleak. She would have to spend the rest of her life these hellish conditions. Bai's siblings had died soon after birth. It was felt Bai would not survive for long. Fortunately the British-based Cameroon Wildlife Aid Fund (CWAF) stepped in to remove her from the zoo. They contacted Paul Hart to see if he could assists because caring for lions is not their field of expertise. On top of all else, Bai was suffering from a broken leg, Paul was in daily contact with the CWAF to give them advice on diets, veterinary treatment and all other facets of Bai's rearing.

When Paul Hart finally got a flight to Cameroon, there was a two-day delay. Then the flight was cancelled altogether. Next followed a scramble for tickets on another carrier. When he finally arrived in Douala it was minus his luggage, the litter box that was taken for Bai, and the special milk formula and veterinary medication that she required. (He only got back his luggage on the day he was scheduled to leave Cameroon.)

What happened next reads like a Disney movie, for Paul Hart was met by the military that remained with him throughout his stay. He was given clothes by the CWAF. Now he had to get the necessary documentation required to get Bai out of Cameroon and into South Africa as a matter of urgency.

Bai and Paul left for Douala on a Saturday and spent whole day meeting with officials to secure the necessary stamps. Bai had to be dragged along to all of these meetings as the officials wanted to be sure that she did not pose a danger to other passengers. Bai was being flown back as a passenger with her own seat. This was crucial as she would have never made the journey without regular feeds, especially considering what actually happened.

Finally the odd couple left the hotel where they were staying and were hustled off to the airport. The military escort ensured they were whisked through all of the formalities and taken to a VIP waiting area. When they finally boarded, they discovered that the aircraft had no air-conditioning. There followed a delay of 6 hours during which temperatures soared to a sweltering 45 deg C causing some passengers to get violent. Paul and Bai were allowed to get off the plane but spent uncomfortable 8 hours waiting for another plane with no food or water. Paul Hart's last meal was breakfast the day before. Bai was kept in a box. He tried to sneak her out of her box every once in a while, but every time he did this, the little cub drew a curious and sometimes hostile crowd. When they finally boarded the aircraft, they were installed in two first class seats and miracle of all miracles, the plane actually took off.

Once in Johannesburg there were problems with the papers. Bai's status had now changed from first class passenger to cargo. British Airways arranged a conference room at the airport so that Bai could get out of her box and stretch her legs while they waited for their flight to Cape Town. At check in time they were whisked to the British Airways VIP lounge and utterly spoilt. They were allowed to board the plane first and the pilot and cabin crew all had a chance to meet Bai before the other passengers boarded. Bai, as she had with all her flights, slept most of the time, only waking for her bottle.

Paul and Bai finally arrived at the Park on Monday It was the end of an arduous but sometimes fantastic journey, but the beginning of a new life for Bai. If nothing unforeseen happened, she would live not in a cramped cage but in a spacious camp. But most importantly, she would not become another statistic in the history of canned hunting. Bai is one of the lucky ones.