“On The Hunt”
“In order to survive in a world of instinct,
its' alternative is to hunt or being hunted.
Reject this, then be prepared to be hunted.” - Toba Beta
The hunt is on.
They look across the arid grey savannah plains,
A barren wasteland with hunter-gatherers wading through its scant remains.
Tall grasses sway in silent synchronicity as golden grains are stood
facing up at the fateful summer gaze of the Eurasian sun.
Yet patience comes with age amongst our early hominid hunters
with one of the youngest all too eager to ease his consummate hunger.
The primitive prospect then lunges from his position —
but opportunity’s gone in an instant, much like the one that he missed is.
There’s no time to offer forgiveness. Looking down through furrowed brow
the elder doesn’t growl, his look of dour disappointment becomes a scowl.
Enough is mouthed to signify this shouldn’t have happened
before a guttural grunt then establishes the hunt is still active!
As sunset is gathering all remaining daylight from the skies
the tribe are reminded their hopes are fading with night on the rise.
The climate declines, their matte of black fur bristles tight at their sides,
as the bipedal giants subsistence strategy becomes a fight to survive.
They eye the horizon with suspicion and caution a must
each step as small and flat-footed as the prey they sought to ambush.
They stalk through the undergrowth of this desolate land
with only the remnants of past encounters and weapons in hand.
The elder neanderthal gestures erratically to an opening near him
stroking his bearded mane to indicate the young foal must be feeding.
This older experienced male knows that patience is key
with a greater degree of success than those acting instantaneously.
He raises his spear, fingers coiled as he studies the challenge,
his movements as wooden and jagged as the assegai our hunter has brandished.
The crunch of a snapping twig suddenly panics their prey —
standing up straight, its ears point toward the noise the Neanderthal made.
The leaders hand is now waving to encourage more natives to join
his directive keen as their weaponry; simple and straight to the point.
They take aim of their hoisted arsenal, appearing to startle it,
before striking both fear in its heart and spears in its cartilage.
They weaken their target with consecutive blows to the horses physique
until it’s legs no longer support it’s resilience and it falls to its knees.
Their stalk is complete.
Yet sure as they feast upon the reward of its meat,
unfortunately for our victorious Neanderthals, not all’s as it seems…
You’re talking to me now - The Mammoth - A true titan of industry -
One of the most feared giants in history, and I am a different breed.
While they were busied beating a dead horse to the stake
I was cautiously waiting to close the distance and corner my prey.
I saw their mistakes before they had made them;
Every misstep they had took
bore the imprint left by my footprints on ground I’ve already been stood.
I know every inch of this woodland, from its grassy greens to its heights,
equipping me for survival against the scavengers bleeding us dry.
I can smell their fear from a mile away as they see me and run
but there’s no reason to come from behind when you lead from the front.
While their spears are no longer in reach and they’re preoccupied
I leap up on hind legs to take the stampede off their minds.
My feet stomp their spinal columns with cold sickening thuds
turning the slow trickling substance into their own rivers of blood.
With a lone flick of my tusks, I attack the loudest first —
and stab the cowards sternum before bringing him crashing down to earth.
I stamp the ground asserting my dominance over those stood in my wake
each thunderous quake disrupting the status quo as the sleeping jungle awakes.
Suddenly swathes of prying eyes peer from the woodlands periphery
and I raise my trunk to implicitly sound the call that trumpets our victory.
Blood nourishes indigenous soil to quench the grounds insatiable thirst
giving way to rebirth as nature and nurture promote our vegetations return.
The remains are dispersed among all who occupy the habitat that we live in
— the death of the Neanderthals giving new life to the entire animal kingdom…
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