King of the Jungle

King of the Jungle

a parable by Maxwell Sebastian Burchett

Being king of the jungle is not an easy life. Yes, I know it probably sounds glamorous to be a king. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, I really don’t.

But let me tell you, when you’re at the top, a lot of folks are gunning for you. Take yesterday for example. It being summer here in the Serengeti, I usually do a little hunting with my pride in the morning, and then nap during the heat of the afternoon under the best Acacia shade tree I can find. But no, not yesterday. A group of hyenas came sneaking in, apparently to try to steal my kill from the morning. There actually wasn’t much left of the wildebeest that I had brought down while the herd was migrating across the plains. But I have an image to maintain as King Cyrus so I had to take out a few of the hyenas and chase the rest away. A waste of energy, but occasionally everyone needs to be reminded who’s in charge around here. A little message to the hyenas and any leopards lurking in the area, but also good for the rest of my pride to see who’s still the boss. King of the jungle, and all that.

And the problems a king must deal with; my god, there’s no end to it! Like last year. We had some poachers who were hunting us. We’re the hunters, the lions, the top of the food chain. But then suddenly, we became the hunted. This is supposed to be our land, protected from encroachment and definitely off-limits for these poachers with their high-power rifles. But laws don’t stop those criminals. And for what; to sell my head to be mounted on some trophy? Cyrus the lion king’s head mounted on a trophy – that’s not going to happen. If they didn’t have guns, I would show them a lion’s head up close. The last thing they’d ever see. But I had to think of the pride; I had to do the smart thing. So, I took us into the next range which has more thickets and thorn forests. Much more difficult terrain for poachers, and much easier for us to hide. Sounds simple, right? But no. We got into the territory of another lion’s pride. It got ugly, to say the least. Kings have their territories and don’t take kindly to intruders. Obviously, I get that. After a few weeks, I decided to head back home and hope for the best that the poachers had gone.

It was nice to be back on the plains, less brush. And plenty of food on the hoof in the massive herds of antelopes, zebras and wildebeests crossing the plains. Fortunately, the poachers had moved on, but that whole episode with the poachers and then the competing pride of lions gave the appearance that the king might have some weakness and one of the up-and-coming lions started challenging my authority. It didn’t take long for me to sort that out and put him in his place. A big hassle frankly, but it’s one of those things that just comes with the turf. As I said before, when you are king, there is always someone gunning for you.

And it’s not just direct attacks either. I have to keep the four males in my pride away from my lionesses. Believe me, it’s easy to lose control on that front. That became such a problem that I had to boot some males from the pride last year. We could have used them for hunting, but there are tradeoffs that have to be made. And those two guys had to go. If they would dare to try to get romantic with my lionesses, next thing you know one of them will start thinking he should be the primary lion here. Not going to let that happen!

Sorry if I'm rambling, but I get a bit worked up when talking about folks challenging me. Me, the king. King of all beasts. I just don’t take kindly to that. If someone is thinking that they should try to overthrow the ruler, they best kill not just injure. They should remember that a wounded king will seek total destruction of adversaries.

And when there is drought, the food supply, and even worse the water supply, can dry up. You want to talk about problems, it doesn’t get much worse than that. That’s when the lion saying that “only the strong survive” becomes real. It’s been years since the last drought, but it’s as fresh on my mind as if it were yesterday. I can tell you with certainty, starving is not the way to go. The only choices become to move to a new hunting ground and water source or get more aggressive on hunting. And other prides are on the move during these droughts and famines. I had to deal with that.

We have a saying in the jungle, “Desperate lions will do desperate things.” It’s true. And that can make for a very dangerous situation to deal with. I had to take out a rather famous lion, who the park rangers called Vlad, from another part of the Serengeti. It was him or me. I’m still here telling you all this, so you can figure out how that turned out. You probably noticed the massive scar on my back, well, that’s thanks to Vlad. A little parting shot he left me with to remember him by.

In those desperate times, a king has to protect his kingdom. I protected my territory for myself and my pride. And I also had to take the territory of other lion kings. Unfortunate, I know. Not the way I prefer to operate. But it’s the law of the jungle. Survival by any means. And here I am. Wasn’t easy, but I survived.

Here’s the thing. Some lions are born to be kings. Some kings are made. Look at me; over 600 pounds and 8 feet long. It’s not part of the typical measurement, but I like to include my impressive three feet tail, so I’ll say over 11 feet. At ten years old, a few of those pounds are a little fatty. OK, more than a little. But still, a lion of lions. I think most lions would at a glance conclude that I was born to be king. I’m not trying to brag, well, maybe a little, but when those tourists on safaris are brought in by park rangers, I’m the lion they always want to get a photo of. One idiot got out of the sight-seeing tourist van and actually thought he would take a selfie with me. A real fool. I sent him running for his life. That was actually sort of fun. I hope someone will try that again. But I digress.

When you’re at the top, there’s nowhere left to go. There usually aren’t any retirement plans for kings. At least not for kings of the jungle. You just get taken out. By a poacher’s sniper bullet, by some ambitious lion, or by adversaries that gang up on you. Clans of hyenas are good at that. That’s why it’s difficult to trust anyone. Kings have few true friends. Like I said, it can be a tough life. As a great lion once said, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” Still, I had rather be king. It’s my destiny. To be King of the Jungle. Well, here in the Serengeti is not really a jungle in the classic sense. But you get my drift, right? In all realms, pretty much these same laws of nature prevail. If you are king, you forget that at your peril.

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