Lions and Tigers but not Bears, Oh My!

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Lions and Tigers but not Bears, Oh My!

Thurs 13/03 - 14/03/08

Today, I'm away from the Great Apes, and I get to play with the big guns - the kings and queens of the jungle. Tim is still unfit for work, so Tom is standing in for him today. We begin with the usual stuff - sweeping the road clear of leaves and cleaning out the main enclosure. Then, we step inside the night dens, beginning with the lions. This is a daunting experience. The keeper opens the iron door, and we walk down a long, dark corridor. On either side, the lions wait. Not all of them are so pleased to see me.

What strikes me most is the noise. The sheer size of these impressive beasts is enough to stop you dead in your tracks, but it's the noise that will send you running for the hills with fresh stains in your trousers. What begin as deep, low rumblings quickly erupt into shattering thunder cracks that rock you back on your heels. I feel my heart pump faster, and my skin breaks out in goosebumps.

I know that I'm safe, and that they can't get to me - it's knowing what they would do if they could that makes the mind play tricks, and forces me to obsessively double and triple check every time I open or close a door. They snarl and pull faces as I pass, and lung forward at the bars. I understand the nature of their frustration. They know I am a weak, feeble creature in comparison to themselves. They know that on a even playing field, I would be trampled and torn asunder. But they are stuck in cages and I am free to come and go as I please. I can control their movements, and dictate when they eat and drink. It must feel like the ultimate in dis-empowerment - a vicious kind of slavery.

There are around a dozen lions in total. As you walk into the dens, on the left side is a single female, whilst on the right a male. In the next set of cages down from them, the left side house's a mean, rough-looking male, and the right a lioness with her three cubs. These are all a good size, at least as big as a full grown Labrador. Next door to the cubs is a huge male. His cage is boarded up with plywood in several places, and he seems to be the most aggressive of the whole bunch, roaring and jumping up at the bars when anyone passes. Opposite him together in one den are a male/female couple. A small family unit has also been released outside.

Our job now is to hose down each cage in turn, along with the lions still in them. My hosing technique is pretty good now. You need to hold your finger over the the end to create a more powerful jet and then direct the spray through the holes in the bars, washing all the crap inside into the drains. I also have to give each lion a shower, and pay special attention to their nether regions.

This is pretty nerve-wracking stuff. Lions, unlike Tigers, do not like water, especially when you're directing it over their testicles. Every time I hit them with the spray, they throw back their heads and give it to me with both barrels. Some swat at the stream with huge paw and jump up on their hind legs, making a play for me. There's no sound quite like the roar of an adult lion. Nature programmes can't prepare you for it. Up close and personal, only a few inches away, your bones are rattled and your body rolled. Even when you know it's coming, you can't help but flinch.

After cleaning we prepare food. We walk around past the tigers to the keeper's shed. We take out large packets of frozen chicken, halal, like almost all the meat in Malaysia. We cut open the packaging using a large knife and place the meat outside in a deep container, like a chest freezer. We pour in some water and leave it to defrost.

After our morning break, we go through a similar routine with the tigers, cleaning them out one cage at a time. Again, there are a lot of big cats left inside the dens, and I wonder if so many need to be couped up indoors at one time. Zoos often swap animals, depending on levels of need, and I'm thinking maybe it would be better to offload a few tigers so that more can spend their days in the open air. One female, Bagheera, seems pretty receptive to human contact, and lets me stroke her under the chin through the bars without feeling the need to relieve me of my fingers. Others would not be so forgiving. A male, Maneater, is aptly named, having killed at least one man in his time.

At lunch time, Aida goes to meet one of her ex-boyfriends. Toby goes along, but I decide to keep out of the way. When she returns, she's upset. Her ex' informed her he's getting married, and this depresses Aida. We invite her round to the house for pancakes to try to cheer her up.

Back at the house, Tim is still not really communicating with us. We're not sure what the problem is, or when he plans to return to work, but we leave him to work it out his own way. Aida turns up for dinner, minus her Muslim headscarf, which she says she only wears to work. We have a few drinks, and after everyone else has gone to bed, I sit outside with Toby and Aida. Aida tells us about her previous groups, and we push her into ranking them all, including us, in order of preference. We come in at number three out of eight. Apparently, we have a chance of making it as far as two, but one is out of the question - they were just too damn good. At 11pm, Aida drives home to get her nightly fix of the internet and Facebook.

Friday 14th. No Tim again today. I work the lions alone. A small cage containing 7 or 8 live, feather-bare chickens has been sitting outside since yesterday. Today, I'm told I'll get to feed them to the tigers. I'm pretty excited about this. It's not that I enjoy watching other creatures suffer, or that I have the thirst for blood. Tigers are one of natures most impressive and deadly killers, and watching them chew on frozen meat behind iron bars, far, far from their natural home is a bit like looking at an eagle with clipped wings, grounded and unable to soar. They deserve to live a little - they deserve to let their hair down and have a bit of fun.

Before this, we're all given the chance to get in with the lion cubs. They're on the large side, so it's not petting zoo stuff, but with the keeper on hand, we're not really in any danger. Then, it's feeding time. The other come over to watch, and Jenny volunteers to help out. We open up the chicken's hutch. The smell is not pleasant, and flies swarm all around. The keeper shows us how to pick up the birds, holding the wings together in one hand so that two can be carried at once. Having sat outside, cramped together, it's not surprising that the birds are warm to touch. They're still alive, but the shadows of death and decay hang over them. Nobody has bothered to pay them any attention the last two days, or check for their welfare. They're just cannon fodder - lunch that still happens to be walking and squawking.

As I carry the chickens inside and place them in one's and two's inside the empty dens, I share their apprehension. The tigers have been herded along through the network of cages so that they are all one away from where their dinner waits, trembling. The roars ring out, and paws pad up and down and in circles. Once everything is in place, we step out, and slide open the doors one at a time. Some of the chickens go down straight away, too tired or afraid to move as the tigers bound towards them. Others put up some weak resistance, flapping about for a while before being dispatched. It's not quite as gory as I'd expected. The tigers generally go for the throat, killing the birds quickly. They then settle down to eat.

The exception is Maneater. He has two chickens in his cage, huddled together in the middle of the floor. He slowly paces up and down, ignoring them, eyes averted. Ten minutes pass, and still he hasn't touched them. It's a horrifying spectacle, much worse than watching the birds being killed. He's playing with them, lulling them into a false sense of security, giving them a faint glimmer of hope. It also seems like a message is being sent out to the rest of us - he's no dumb, hungry beast, unable to resist a meal when it's presented to him. He'll take his time, fill his nostrils with the scent of blood, and eat when he's ready. He wants us to know he's the boss. He won't be rushed, or told what to do. He won't accept our meager gifts readily, like the others.

We leave him to it, and go to feed some of the other animals. The zoo is always short staffed, and keepers usually have several different areas to look after. We visit the otters, wild pigs and finally bearded pigs, before returning. When we get back, the last two chickens are dead, and Maneater is having his lunch.

At the end of the shift, we find out that Tim has texted Aida, telling her he is going to KL for the weekend to have his back looked at. On Amy's insistence, she drives to the house to pick up the key from Tim. She returns to take Jenny and I into town, and tells us that when she got there, Tim had packed up all his stuff, and was about to leave, seemingly for good, without telling anyone. We ask if he'll be coming back - she says no. Immediately, I face a dilemma. In a week, the others will leave for Borneo and I'll be left alone in the house and in the zoo. This doesn't appeal to me much. Taiping is a quiet, empty town. The house is a good 45 minute walk away. Aside from the internet cafe, there will be nothing for me to do. We've all bonded well as a group, and I don't want to be left behind, in solitude.

I ask if it is possible to join the Orangutan project, and go with them to the jungle. Aida makes a few calls. It seems someone from the other zoo group has done the same thing. There may not be any more places available. After a tense stand off, I get a call, and am told I can go, though it will not be cheap. I'll have to pay over £300 for the upgrade in programme, and then book my own flights to and from Kuching, which will cost another £60 or £70. I think about it a while. There's no doubt that I cannot afford the extra money, and will be left in a financial hole. On the other hand, holes are made to be got out of, and I'd rather be broke and enjoying myself than depressed with cash in my pocket. I go for broke. Fuck it. Have a good time and worry about shit later. I book my flights, and seal the deal.

Friday night. The eve of our last free weekend in Malaysia. Tim has left and Tom decides he wants to stay in the house, watching DVDs and catching up on sleep. The rest of us decide to go away to Penang, an Island off the northwest coast of Peninsular Malaysia, about an hour and half journey from Taiping. We get our stuff together, and take a taxi to the bus station. I've been knee deep in shit, survived a vicious ape attack and put a serious dent in my bank account. I haven't been drunk for almost a week. As we settle into our luxury seats on the coach, the night drawing in, I crack open a beer, and close my eyes. I need drinking. I need dancing. If we can find karaoke, I'll go fucking ape shit.

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