THE FRIGHT ISSUE SPECIAL FEATURE
The Lion in the Bushes by JON TURK
My newest book, Tracking Lions, Myth, and Wilderness in Samburu, is set on the Kenyan savannah. On the third day of that expedition one of the men in camp handed me a wooden club, and asked me to accompany Dipa, the village headman, tracking a lion that had eaten a village cow. We followed the tracks to the carcass of a recently killed warthog. Clearly the lion was close, and because it was noon and its belly was full, it was almost certainly sleeping nearby.
I swung my club tentatively, feeling its balance, and realizing how inadequate it would be to defend myself, should the lion wake up and charge. I stopped, peered into the bushes, senses alert, feeling a deep fear. And then, quickly, out of my control, the fear morphed into anger. Why was I sent on this mission with only a club? And why was Dipa unarmed? There were many sharp, steel machetes in camp. Why didn’t someone give me a machete, at least? Or better yet, a solid, battle-worn Russian AK-47. Those jerks. What kind of
a Gong Show is this, anyway? This is my life on the line. Then. Whoa. Stop. Recalibrate. Fear can be a friend to warn you of danger. But fear is not your friend in the heat of the action. I’ve been there: Storms at sea, in the maw of an avalanche, on a dicey lead on vertical rock. At critical times when you must perform at the highest level, fear is a useless, dangerous, unwelcome distraction. So, in this moment, I take control of myself and peer into the bushes with all my senses.
