"All in a Warthog's Day"
A short story by Joe McCauley

Copyright 1996 by Joe McCauley
Based on "The Lion King", copyright 1994 by The Walt Disney Company

        "Timon:   Pumbaa, are you nuts?  We're talking about a
                  lion!  Lions eat guys like us!
         Pumbaa:  But he's so little.
         Timon:   He's gonna get bigger.
         Pumbaa:  Maybe he'll be on our side."
                              -- The Lion King

              "But it's all in a mouse's night
               To take on all those who will fight.
         Cat:  There I was with my back to the wall.
               Then comes this monster mouse, he's ten feet tall
               With teeth and claws to match.
               It only took one blow."
                              -- Tony Banks, "All in a Mouse's Night"

     The sun was hot and shined brightly on the grasslands that bordered
the jungle.  Pumbaa was out browsing around for some leafy plants to
munch on.  The insects he and Timon feasted on the day before left him
with a case of indigestion, so for today he would content himself with a
diet of leaves and other plant matter that was easier on his stomach.
     Suddenly he thought he heard something.  Pumbaa stopped to listen
carefully to the sounds around him.  He lifted and turned his head
slowly, using his ears, eyes and nose to scan the area around him for
any sign of danger.  He resumed slowly chewing his mouthful of leaves
but kept his head up and alert.
     A sudden blur of movement, and Pumbaa knew right away he was the
target of a hunt.  He reacted quickly, bolting in the opposite
direction.  The chase was on!
     Pumbaa knew that his best strategy in this situation was to head
for the thick undergrowth of the jungle, where it would be much more
difficult for a predator to keep up with him.  Unfortunately, his
attacker had come from that direction so he was headed the wrong way.
Unless he could outrun his pursuer, he would either have to get turned
around or find a burrow.  But every time he attempted to turn in that
direction, he was cut off.
     In front of him he saw a rock with a smooth face on one side.
Pumbaa leapt toward that side of the rock, twisted his body a little,
and deftly pushed off with his back hooves, making a sudden turn.  His
pursuer couldn't corner as quickly and this opened up his lead a little
bit and had him on a better heading for the heavy jungle undergrowth.
     But it was still quite a ways ahead of him and his attacker was
closing tha gap again.  Pumbaa saw another rock ahead of him he could
use for the same maneuver.  As he approached it, he leapt and again
turned his body to push off the rock.  But he noticed out of the corner
of his eye that his attacker was already angling in that direction, so
at the last instant he righted himself and aborted the maneuver.  A
fake!
     Unfortunately he stumbled a little bit when he landed, and though
he regained his footing quickly it lost him any distance he might have
gained on his pursuer.  He was out of ideas for the moment, so all he
could do now was to run for all he was worth toward the jungle.  He was
panting heavily and his legs were getting tired, but he had no other
choice.  It was all in the nature of being a prey animal, all part of
the game.
     Finally, still well short of the jungle, the hunter was upon him.
He could see him beside him, and a moment later, he felt a massive paw
come over his body and a mouth on the back of his neck.  He had one more
trick up his sleeve, one last move of desperation.  Pumbaa dropped onto
one side and tried to roll out from under the animal on top of him.  If
he pulled it off right, he would roll over once and come up on his feet,
able to flee while his pursuer fell down and lost a lot of time.
     It worked!  Pumbaa rolled free and resumed his flight toward the
jungle.
     "No way!  I got you!"  a voice called out from behind him.
     Pumbaa stopped and turned around, panting.  "I got away, didn't I?"
     Simba stood up, also panting, and looked at him.  "Only because I
was trying not to hurt you."  He paused to catch his breath.  "You
wouldn't have gotten away if I'd been using my teeth and claws like I
do when I'm hunting for real."
     "Okay, I guess you're right," Pumbaa conceded, rubbing the back of
his neck against some bushes.
     "Nice fake you did back there," Simba observed.  "If you hadn't
stumbled I probably wouldn't have caught you."
     "Thanks," said Pumbaa gratefully.
     "You're getting tough to catch, and I even know most of your
tricks!"  Simba remarked.
     "Well you've got quite a few yourself, and you're tough to get away
from," Pumbaa countered.
     Pumbaa was proud of himself.  He had developed quite a bag of
tricks, any of which might be indispensible if he were attacked by a
real predator.  He and Timon hadn't been too sure about these hunting
exercises when Simba first suggested them.  One of the first was over
almost before it started when Simba dropped out of a tree and knocked
them over.  But a few days later they looked up, wondering if Simba was
waiting to strike again, and saw a leopard.  They didn't hang around to
find out whether he was hungry or just resting.  After that they never
questioned the value of these games.
     As for Simba, he knew he'd never go hungry as long as there was
anything to hunt.  He made good use of of the skills he'd developed
chasing Timon and Pumbaa when hunting real prey.
     Once they caught their breath, the two of them wandered back to the
jungle together, jibing and offering each other tips.
     "I wonder what Timon's up to," Pumbaa mused.
     "Hey, maybe I can catch him off guard..."

-- 
Joe McCauley <mccauley@databahn.net>