Harvey the lonely hyaena and his best friend Griselda the leopard

Harvey the hyaena was always on the lookout for adventure. One day he wandered too far afield and got lost. You can imagine the distress of his mother, father and Aunt Bessie (who lived with them). They went right off their carcasses and loped for miles and miles through the arid Karoo shrubbery in search of their little spotted offspring. Night and day, for forty days and forty nights, they called out for him, listening out for his chattery, giggly voice. But the only sound that bounced back at them through the stillness was the occasional roar of a lion or the bark of a baboon. Eventually, they gave up and returned to the business of hunting and scavenging.

Meanwhile, Harvey was beginning to feel lonely and frightened. The chattering sounds he now made were coming from his teeth, and his moist snout was becoming even moister as tears dripped from his big brown eyes. Once, he narrowly avoided treading on a sleepy puff adder and on another occasion a herd of elephants kicked up the dust around him and narrowly avoided treading on him.

At last he found a donga where he could slake his thirst. And this was when his luck changed. He found himself sharing the space with a sprightly young leopardess, who introduced herself as Griselda. She, having long since learnt that she could not rely on her parents to look after her, had been treading a solitary path from early cubhood.

The two took an immediate liking to each other and formed an instant bond. “We are both spotted creatures”, observed Griselda astutely. “We must be meant for each other”. Over a breakfast of dried Springbok they talked and talked, until the sun set and the moon came up. Then they padded on together, ready for whatever life had in store for them.

They soon discovered, much to their chagrin, that most of the animals in the veld preferred to avoid them. “You’re nothing but predators”, taunted a cheeky chacma baboon from a safe distance. “Go away! We don’t want your sort here!” Even one of their fellow travellers, an ageing vulture named Vanessa, flapped her great big ugly wings at them and croaked in a hideous voice, “Predators! Predators! Go hunt some place else!” And from his secure perch in a baobab tree came the shrill squawk of a parrot, “Killers Out! Killers Out!”

Harvey and Griselda protested in vain that they were really environmentally friendly (“eco-friendly”, said Harvey, who was fond of using unusual words in order to impress) and that all they really wanted to do was to partake every now and then of dead flesh in order to stay alive. Was that being unreasonable? The birds and beasts amongst whom they moved evidently thought so, so Harvey and Griselda wandered on until they encountered a support group, called “Predators Anonymous”, which they promptly joined and where they learnt that they were not alone.

The main rule of PA was framed thus: “I understand that I am, have been and always will be a predator and that this is a state which is beyond my control”. Then followed a promise to adhere to several resolutions, the most important of these being, “I solemnly undertake to kill only in order to survive”. Other rules pertained to such measures as the spraying of tree trunks in order to mark out one’s territory, various techniques for obliterating one’s spoor in order to avoid detection, and guidance on how to move while seeming not to move when stalking prey.

As the months went by, Harvey and Griselda found plenty with which to occupy themselves. They lived together companionably, hunting, sharing their prey and conserving their energy during the long, hot days by dozing in the long grass. They forgot what it was like to be alone and only had eyes for each other. Happily, both lived to a ripe old age.

When nature finally took its course – and Harvey was the first to go, after a porcupine quill, having lodged in his front left paw, had resulted in sepsis – he and Griselda said their goodbyes with an extra long session of licking and nuzzling. A few weeks later, Griselda, her black spotted fur now tinged with flecks of grey, decided that she had had enough of a lonely existence in the harsh veld and she quietly settled down for the big sleep.