"A Stab
in the Dark"
Oil on panel, 18x36"
SOLD
The hunter is perched precariously in
a tree ,and as he peers into the night, his eyes are adjusting
to the eerie light cast by the moon. The year is 1903, the place
Sabi Sands, South Africa. Hes shaking from a combination
of cold and fear. Whats left of his clothes are soaked
with blood, not all of it his own. His shoulder is bleeding badly
but hes not feeling pain. Hes worried that he might
faint and fall from his roost. He looks down at the ground and
in horror at the head of a male lion looking back up at him.
Its upward turned eyes are now catching the moonlight. He knows
the lion would probably climb up to his perch; after all hed
managed to climb it in his injured state. He was now cramping
up and could hardly move; resolved that his time on this earth
would soon be at an end, he returns the lions stare, shivers
and reflects on the horror which had brought him to this place.
In search of water, he had been riding,
accompanied by one of his dogs, along a trail he knew well. The
light was fading, and the night was coming fast. He could hear
rustling in the grass ahead of him but was unable to make anything
out. Perhaps it was the sudden moonlight on the scene, but he
could then distinguish the all too familiar shapes of male lions,
and they were heading straight for him in a purposeful manner.
They were then only three or four yards distant, and although
the hunter had a rifle there was no time to raise it to his shoulder.
He turned his horse and gave spur, but he knew the lions would
be on them. His horse was bucking and prancing with fear as one
of the lions tried to dig its claws into its haunches. The other
lion was overtaking the horse which then threw its rider out
of the saddle and on top of the lion. The lion grabbed the fallen
rider by the right shoulder and started to drag him away. The
other lion was in hot pursuit of the runaway horse which in turn
was being chased by his dog. The hunter was on his back and the
lion was dragging him in true fashion, straddling the mans
body with all four legs. Unfortunately the hunters spurs
were occasionally acting as brakes and the lion would give a
swift jerk to the mans shoulder to free its prey. The mans
pain was almost unbearable but he did not pass out. He felt as
though he was being dragged for many miles. After a while he
remembered his sheath knife attached to his belt on the right
side. Hoping it had not been dislodged in the fall, he reached
down with his left arm which he managed to put round his back
to get to the knife. The man could hardly move, his face was
pressed tightly against the lions mane. Unable to see,
he had to do everything by feel. He got the knife and gradually
and with great difficulty, located the beasts heart. All
the time the cat was purring very loudly, obviously very happy
with his prize. Fearful that he might miss the right spot, or
worse, drop the knife, he grabbed it as tightly as possible and
with a backward movement stabbed twice. The lion dropped the
man and let out a mighty roar. Still lying under the lion the
hunter plunged his knife into the lions throat which severed
its jugular, showering the man with blood. Having released its
hold, the lion then slinked off into the night.
The man staggered to his feet and remembering
the second lion and that it would probably return and follow
his blood spore, he sought refuge in a tree to await the inevitable
or a miraculous rescue.
Now he was perched facing what he had
feared. The second lion had arrived. Thankfully it was not attempting
to climb the tree, instead it would wander off, lie down in the
bush, then return to the tree. And so the hours passed by. Then
before daybreak and the bush coming back to life, he hears in
the stillness the welcome sound of his boys coming towards the
tree. They light a fire to keep off the lion and attend to the
hunters horrible wounds.
For Harry Wolhuter, the hunter in our
story, who was also one of the first rangers in Kruger National
Park, his ordeal wasnt over. He was in desperate need of
water and his boys had arrived without any, and he feared he
would die without it. Amazingly, with the help of his native
boys, he walked some six miles to a water hole where they patched
him up.
He sent some of his boys back to skin
the dead lion and find his horse. Although skeptical that Wolhuter
had in fact killed a lion with a knife, they achieved their mission,
bringing back the skull, the skin and its heart to show him where
his knife had pierced. The horse had minor injuries to its haunches
but was permanently spooked by the ordeal and therefore of little
use to the ranger and was gracefully retired.
By then his injuries were turning septic,
and he had to be carried in relays. It took an amazing four days
of arduous travel before he could get professional help in Komatipoort.
His story remains one of the most incredible and remarkable to
be told.
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