WILDERNESS FOLK loi 



at them, often kicking out with a vengeance and no 

 little accuracy. 



One scrawny little fellow used to come down near 

 otu blind day after day. As he was too yoimg to be 

 alone, I concluded that his mother must have been 

 killed by a lion or leopard. Zebras, you know, are 

 the lion's favorite food. This particular youngster 

 was frail and terrified. Once for three days straight 

 he came near the waterhole, but was too frightened 

 to drink. I suppose he may have seen his mother 

 killed. Finally he could stand it no longer. 

 Trembling in every limb, he walked right into the 

 water and drank until it seemed he would burst. 



Like the zebra, the giraffe is also an appetizing dish 

 for the lion. This is distressing when one sees how 

 kind and gentle this creature is. I look on the giraffe 

 as the true aristocrat of the jungle. His manners 

 are always impeccable; his bearing is dignified, and 

 his bearing towards other beasts is full of the utmost 

 good-natured tolerance. 



The great trouble in the giraffe's life is his grotesque 

 figure. His legs are long and stiff, and his neck is 

 limber. He has no way to make a single sound of 

 warning or complaint and nature has endowed him 

 with no practicable means of defense. I have heard 

 it said that a giraffe can put up quite a fight with his 

 forelegs, but I seriously doubt it. He just isn't built 

 for fighting. 



