Put simply, this was a classic cat fight. One with big cats.
Out there on the Serengeti, the old male lion has held his pride together for years. Probably longer than he had reason to believe he could.
Young male lions, some of which he had actually helped raise as cubs, would come to challenge him. It’s the way it works. They’d show up, he would growl mightily, and they would back away.
The few who were foolish enough to make a real challenge would get a taste of the fight left in him. And they would leave battered and bruised.
Still, the inevitable is always just around the next whistling thorn. The big cat gets older. The young cats get stronger. And the challengers keep coming.
And then one year, a young challenger shows up with more vigor, more moxie, maybe a nicer suit.
The old lion recognizes the difference right away. This cat looks tough. He has uovas. It forced the old lion to quickly go through his options. This time for real.
Fight or flight?
His brain was telling him to make a graceful exit. Flight is not such a bad thing. He had a great run. His followers respected him. He had done well by them.
So walk away, his brain tells him. Go out on top. Have the pride give you a nod of appreciation as you walk away. After all, it had to happen sometime. It happens to everyone.
Still, his heart was telling him otherwise. Fight.
“I can take this young lion,” his heart was saying. “I’ve got one more battle in me.
“I’ll kick his ass.”
So he chose the option he had always chosen before.
Fight.
And the battle raged.
The old lion knew it wouldn’t be easy. Not this time. All of the signs pointed to his defeat. Back and forth it went. Back and forth.
To an outside observer, it might have looked like the old lion was holding his own. The young lion would deliver a vicious swipe with his powerful paw. And the old lion would swipe back.
But the young lion’s swipes were deeper, harder. They hit home in places that were more vulnerable.
The old lion made contact, but barely had an impact. The old lion was losing. And he knew it.
Still, he fought on.
His heart kept pushing him forward. Telling him he was in it to win it. “Never surrender. Never concede.”
And the battle raged.
It was all but over now, but the old lion still fought on. There simply was no way out.
The old lion’s family looked on. They would have preferred the old lion to win, but they already were making plans to accept the new, young lion. It is the way life is on the Serengeti.
Bruised and battered, the old lion was finally finished. It’s not how he wanted to go out. Not at all. In retrospect, he wishes he had simply walked away on his terms. He felt like he had earned an exit like that, and — truth is — he had.
But lions are built to fight. It’s in their DNA. So fight he did. And lose he did.
The old lion was out as the leader, but he likely will search for ways to make the Serengeti better in different ways. His knowledge is invaluable. His passion unparalleled.
The young, new lion now is king. And he will rule. But he will rule with the knowledge that some day, he, too, will face the same decision the old lion just faced.
Fight or flight.
Until then, long live the king.
Lou Brancaccio is The Columbian’s editor. Reach him at 360-735-4505 or lou.brancaccio@columbian.com.
