One’s first hunt is not something one forgets. I sensed it was serious by the way my mother and my three aunts moved about as soon as the emerald spotted wood doves called the sun to rise. It was still dark and cold and the dew-covered grass was not inviting, but my brother and sister and I were soon overcome with excitement as we followed our mother to the wide riverbed where the small stream of the river made its way between sand banks. My three aunts went off in a different direction.
My brother and sister and I lay down as our mother did and watched the riverbed from the reeds. By then the sun was a full diameter of blood-red sitting on the river on our left. With one glare from our mother my sister, Leonora, stopped playing with a frog and pretended to study the river. I was starting to get bored after 20 minutes and had started thinking about a sleep in the shade of a thorn tree, once the grass had dried out, when a buffalo’s head appeared from the reeds on the far side of the river. It sniffed the air and for one moment looked directly at us. We didn’t even blink. Then it took a few steps forward and looked up and down the river before slowly walking to the water’s edge in the middle of the riverbed. My mother raised her ears slightly as if to feel the direction of the air and then flattened them close to her head and crept closer to the sandbank. My brother and sister and I watched our mother’s body hanging between her shoulder blades as she moved low over the sand.
The buffalo stopped drinking and looked towards the sun and my motionless mother as she balanced on three legs with her one paw held perfectly still a few inches off the ground. The buffalo returned to drinking and my mother seemed to get taller as she streaked across the riverbed. The buffalo charged towards the reeds, but my mother had already crossed the river, forcing the buffalo to run along the riverbed. I was surprised to see my mother slow down to a stop, sit down and have a good scratch as the buffalo ran away, but then I saw one of my aunts burst onto the riverbed at an amazing speed from further along the river just as the buffalo passed. The buffalo accelerated and my aunt seemed to give up the chase after a few seconds. The buffalo carried on running and another of my aunts exploded onto the riverbed at full speed and the buffalo, which had slowed down, put on a spurt to out-run her. I watched in disbelief as that aunt stopped and rolled over in the sand and stretched. The buffalo looked exhausted and slowed to a trot before turning towards my mother and two aunts, who appeared to have lost interest in the hunt and were a long way from the buffalo but casually strolling towards it. It was then that I saw my third aunt spring from the reeds and onto the buffalo before it had a chance to move. She held on tight as it kicked and jumped, but it soon fell with my aunt’s jaws firmly clamped over its throat. My two sisters and I lollopped along the riverbed to watch my aunt as she lay down and used her weight to hold the buffalo’s head firmly against the sand.
My mother and my other aunts kept a look out for a possible revengeful buffalo herd, or crocodiles, or any other animal that might steal our buffalo, but it all looked strangely peaceful as we waited for the buffalo to die.
HE Roffey