There were two other tourists in the vehicle, an elderly couple from England.
“It is one thing to know about the wild; quite another to see it,” the English woman said.
“They are a well-evolved animal,” Bernard said. “Known for their thievery; known to be very thorough with their kill; known to prey upon themselves. And they are the boldest of thieves, even to steal from lions, even to take meat from an animal still breathing.”
“That’s nice to know,” Sam said.
“He is a hungry one,” Bernard said to his driver, chuckling, and he pointed at one of the hyenas whose head was completely buried in the body cavity of the gazelle. When the head came out, it had a long line of intestines attached to its mouth. The others hyenas tried to take it from him and he snarled back at them. Bernard took something from the dashboard, opened his window, and threw it at the animal, hitting it in its hind quarters. The hyena turned sharply, snapping wildly into the air. Finally it locked its eyes on Bernard and snarled at him. Sam watched as Bernard’s hand reach for the shotgun he kept clamped on the inside door panel. Bernard’s hand remained on the shotgun, as if ready to pull it free, until the animal turned its attention back to the other hyenas who were trying to steal the meat from his mouth.
“Yeah, that one, he’s a hungry one,” Kikanae said.
“Do you know how Maasai rid themselves of hyenas?” Bernard asked the group. “They shoot one with a barbed-tipped arrow, not to kill but to lame, lame enough to make it bleed and take off running and yelping, with enough blood trailing behind for his pals to get a whiff. What happens next is comical. A frenzied chase follows, his blood-thirsty pals eager to sink their teeth into what now, for them, is only a wounded piece of meat… an easy kill.
“Once I shot an antelope and a pack of hyenas came out of the bush for it. Even though I stood there with a rifle on them, they were determined to take it from me. They were not afraid, even after I fired a warning shot. And it’s not as if these animals don’t know what a rifle can do. They do know. Trust me, they do.”
“What did you do?” asked the English woman.
Bernard paused. He looked over at Kikanae. There was a moment of silence. “I let them keep the antelope,” he said, letting out a chuckle. He returned his attention to the feeding hyenas. “They did not kill this animal,” he said, referring to the butchered gazelle carcass. “I am sure of it. They stole it from a lion.”
They all remained in the Land Cruiser, witnessing the way of Africa. After ten more minutes, there was little left of the gazelle, and little left to see. Nature’s work had been complete. What was left for the buzzards was merely a bloodstain on the African earth.