Cheetah walking cubs in tow, over dunes very slow.
Makes a kill one in eight, then half of these has to vacate.
Burning heat across the land, scorched feet upon the sand.
Now she's scenting head held high, has some movement caught her eye?
Three cubs gather in her shade, keen interest in the coming raid.
Signal given cubs lay down, she's moving forward close to ground.
Crouch behind a clump of grass, steadying for the killing task.
Panting deeply fills her lungs, just before the forward plunge.
Springbok in the shade does lie, shakes it's head to chase the fly.
Too late detects the charging cat, instinct makes it pronk this way then that.
Swipes the hind legs from under it, first a stumble then a trip.
Onto the falling buck in one leap, it's teeth into the neck go deep.
Dust is rising all around, with the short struggle on the ground.
On and on she holds her pray, till it deadly still does lay.
Then she moves to shade to rest, panting madly from the quest.
Some strange signal calls the cubs, each one on her gently rubs.
When she's rested they'll have the meal, if no other comes it to steal.
Little tummy's gorged with meat, make the most of what's to eat.
Many days before there's more, hunger keeps knocking at the door.
Never for fun will they kill, only with deep hunger have the will.
Written by Pete Barlow 20/01/2001
Email : Pete Barlow