Lying in Wait

We couldn’t justify going to Northern Tanzania without scheduling a two-day safari following our Kili climb. And so, less than 24 hours after coming off the mountain, our twin engine airplane landed on a dirt airstrip smack dab in the middle of the Serengeti. Binoculars in hand, we began our mental tally of animals seen: giraffes, hippos, gazelles, zebras, lions, leopards, elephants, impalas, wart hogs, crocodiles, cape buffalo, hyrax, mongeese, monkeys, baboons, hyenas, wildebeests, a black rhino, and many types of antelopes, reptiles and birds. It was very neat and we especially appreciated our knowledgeable guide who not only kept us informed on each species, but also had a certain sense that frequently put us in the right place at the right time. Such was the case with the video posted with this blog entry.

We had just arrived at a site where about twenty other safari vehicles were clustered. Sure enough, there was a pride of lions shamelessly posing for pictures. While most of the lions just sat in the shade panting, one particular lioness was on her feet, slowing walking through the traffic jam of vehicles. With one look, our guide said, “She is hunting, let’s follow her.” Sure enough, quite a ways down the road, we saw what she had seen, a lone zebra grazing in the afternoon sun. Our guide passed the slowly moving lion and quietly parked about 100 feet short of the unsuspecting zebra. Over the next 10-15 minutes, we watched the lioness sneak and crouch, sneak and crouch, strategically positioning herself for attack, yet carefully remaining unseen by the zebra. Finally, the lioness laid down motionless less than one car length from my camera lens. Unfortunately, the zebra was still a good stone’s throw in front of us. Our guide gave a bit of commentary “The lioness realizes that she made a mistake. She should have gone around the back side and attacked from there so that the zebra would run toward all the other lions in her pride. Her position now would not allow her to catch the zebra because she cannot get close enough before she will be seen.” However, even as he was saying this, the zebra did something unexpected – he started walking toward us.

With our cameras rolling, we silently watched the beautifully striped horse walk approached our truck. Should we have alerted her to the danger that lie in wait just off our rear wheel? No way, we were cheering for the hungry killer! However, we knew that, if at any point, the zebra saw the lioness before she launched from her spot, he would still have a good chance of escape. The lioness obviously knew this as well, and so she lied motionless, waiting for the perfect moment of attack. As the seconds ticked away, I became more and more impressed by the lioness’ patience. And finally, her patience was rewarded as the zebra briefly turned his head away. The rest of the story…well, you can see what happened for yourselves. It was like National Geographic right before our very eyes! Incredible!

A week later, I found myself in an Executive Council meeting for our organization. As usual, I sat quietly, following the discussions and debates; piecing together my own opinion on the topic at hand. In many ways, I felt like that lioness. I had strong opinions about the subject being discussed and there were many responses that wanted to find their way out of my mouth, but I knew I couldn’t pounce prematurely. Like the lion, I knew that I had one shot at making it count. An unclear statement or weak conclusion would result in my words contributing nothing to the discussion, but a well-timed and well-organized strike could push the whole discussion the direction I preferred. I was once told some good advice, “It is best to be known as a person who says very little, but when (s)he speaks, people listen” or “You communicate more by saying one really good word, than a whole smattering of mediocre ones.” Applying these theories in my participation style, I waited for the perfect bridge into my line of thinking, then I silently raised my hand to catch the eye of the chairman. Like the lioness, I had been patient. Like the lioness, I carefully planned my strike. And like the lioness, I caught my zebra. I gave my viewpoint and let discussion pass on to the next member, then a few minutes, the director of our organization called attention back to my thought, “Travis, can you restate what you said, I want to be sure that we got not only that thought down in the minutes, but how you said it, because it resonated with me and others.”

Is it only me, or do you also dislike the feeling that nobody is listening when you talk? Our nature is to talk more, restating the same point multiple ways, but maybe we can learn from the lioness. She had one shot at her prey, and after a great demonstration of patience, she made it count. If we use our words as carefully as the lioness uses her hunting energy, I don’t think we will have a problem finding a listening audience. Just a thought.