His arm hung off of the tree branch. The breeze ruffled his coat. Big Red yawned and smacked his lips. With great care he partially stood, then turned to put his weight on his other hip and lay down again. He sighed. Now the sun was in his eyes. This time he sat up and surveyed his land. 

Big Red was disappointed to see the crowd gathered below his tree. 

The zebras were there. And the wildebeest. Young meerkats dashed around the base of his tree, being chased by warthog piglets. One of the zebras jumped and kicked. “He’s awake!” Everyone joined in the clamor, and even more of the garden animals gathered.

On a lower branch what his lioness, Mommy, a paw to her face. Every morning was like this. The moment he woke, the herds went crazy. 

“Oh look. The flamingos,” she muttered as the pink flock settled in among the wildebeest. 

“What shall we do today?” cried the eldest wildebeest. “What do you instruct?”

“The people are here!” called a younger zebra. 

Big Red waved a paw to silence the crowd. “We will do as they expect. Go zebras, wildebeest, and flamingos to your water hole and frolic. Perhaps invite a croc to a game of tag, just for the enjoyment of the people. Warthogs and meerkats, go dig your holes and hide. Squeal and play. Invite the snakes to dance. Give the people what they want. We will eat well tonight.”

Big Red continued with his instructions for the hippos and giraffes, and the elephants and gazelles. All the animals here lived to entertain the people and he and Mommy were the only big predators. 

Later in the day, when the trucks were around, he and Mommy would prowl. They would stalk the gazelles and zebras for show. Some days - but not today - they’d let the wildebeest win a fight against them. 

Red was tired today, though. Just give the people what they want so that everyone can eat. That was good enough. 

He hopped out of the tree and joined Mommy at the water trough. “Another day, another nap,” he said. 

“It’s a little dull,” Mommy agreed. “I mean, I love a nap as much as anyone, but—.”

Big Red looked up and butted her gently with his forehead. 

“Can we do something fun?” she said.

“Like what?”

She sat down and pondered the prairie before her. Over at the water hole, a croc snapped at a drinking zebra causing the herd to disperse in a panic. 

“What if,” Mommy started then whispered in Big Red’s ear. Red grinned.

The next morning the animals gathered beneath Big Red’s tree. He was sitting, looking over the gathered crowd. On this morning, he called all the animals that could walk on land to gather at the tree, and all the birds, too. He instructed carefully that what he was about to explain needed to be shared with the fishes and water bugs, too.

“The People come to watch us,” Red started. “They want to see animals like us ‘in the wild.’” The zebras brayed in delight until they were shushed by the wildebeest. 

“The more people that come, the better we eat.” 

The crocs snapped their jaws in agreement. 

“More people. More food. Better for our cubs and foals and fawns.”

The meercats stood up, waving their paws.

“We’ve long agreed that we’re in this together, and though we know that lions eat wildebeest, and crocs eat zebras, and meercats eat snakes, we’ve only ever put on a show for the people so that they’ll feed us and we needn’t actually hurt each other.”

The flamingos flapped their wings and the gazelles leaped straight up. Everyone started calling and braying and hooting.

Big Red raised a paw. Silence took hold.

“We want more people to visit. We want more food, yes?”

Nods and grunts shook the crowd.

“So let’s have some fun.”

“People are here,” brayed a zebra. The croc at his feet rolled and put on his best ‘I’m a dead croc’ face. As the truck full of enthusiastic tourists drew closer, the zebras began to put on a show. They stomped and brayed and pretended like they were eating the croc. They’d found some red mud and smeared it on their faces and legs to look like the blood of their ‘prey’. They were laughing as they played. Even the croc, because zebra noses tickled his soft belly. Lucky, people can’t tell a laugh from a cry of terror in zebra bray language.

The people cried out and the truck stopped. Hundreds of cameras were trained on the crowd of zebras and the hapless croc. “Now charge them,” giggled the croc. “Chase them away.”

The zebras stopped their frolicing and turned to the van. “Pretend you’re angry.” The zebras pinned their ears back and flopped their lips to show their teeth. Then three of them, big stallions, raced toward the truck. The people dove inside while the zebras reared and hit the truck with their hooves.

In moments, the truck sped off, with one of the zebras in hot pursuit. Soon the zebra stopped and rejoined the herd. Everyone was hollering in laughter. That had to be the best game ever! The croc flopped back onto his feet and slid back to the pond. The zebras joined him for a long drink. 

A gazelle ran back to the combined herd of wildebeest and his own kind. “It was amazing!” he said. “The zebras rocked it!”

“Where are they now?” crooned the eldest wildebeest.

“They’re on their way! I can’t wait!”

“Places!” cried the wildebeest. The wildebeest spread out across the field, while the gazelles gathered under a tree. Several laid down, sprawling luxuriantly. A few stood off to the side, watching for the truck. When it slid into view, they sprang into action. 

Four younger gazelles trotted off toward the wildebeest, particularly focused on one - the eldest - that was on the edge of the herd. 

They could hear the voices of the people on the truck now. The four gazelles began to leap into the air at short intervals, to catch the people’s attention. Soon enough, someone was pointing. 

The gazelles, stopped their leaping and continued to jog toward the herd of wildebeest. Occasionally one would leap to make sure that all people eyes were on them. Abruptly, the gazelles spread out and began to surround the side of the herd in which the eldest wildebeest was grazing. 

The gazelles slowed to a walk, then they crouched down, trying to keep their heads below the grass as they approached the elder wildebeest. Occasionally, they froze mid-step. 

The people were talking and taking photos. The elder wildebeest snorted. All ears flipped to him as he continued to casually graze. He snorted again.

The wildebeest herd sprang to life, dashing off in a mock panic. The young gazelles raced at the elder wildebeest as he faked surprize and ambled away, kicking up as much dust as he could. The gazelles leaped and the wildebeest dropped to the ground, trying his best to time the move so that it looked like the gazelles knocked him down. 

The five of them wrestled and jumped around, kicking up dust and throwing grass into the air. The wildebeest crawled to a pile of red mud they’d hidden in the grass and rolled in it. The gazelles dipped their noses in the red mud and smeared it on themselves and each other. 

As the dust settled, the elder wildebeest lay stretched out on his side with four gazelles poking at him with their noses, pretending to be feeding. The other gazelles had come out from the shade and were joining the group.

The people, as expected, were going crazy with photos and video, begging the driver to get closer. The driver was on the clock, however, and the animals knew it. Soon enough, the truck drove away headed towards its next stop.

The flamingos were ready. The truck would be coming soon and the people would ooh and aah at the pretty pink birds skimming bugs from the bottom of the shallow pond. But today, the flamingos were in the trees, balancing a little uncomfortably on branches that their feet were ill designed to grasp. They were humming at each other in anticipation. The idea that Big Red had shared with them was so exciting that they could hardly contain themselves. This was going to be great.

The truck buzzed into view, nearing the pond. Not a single flamingo was there and they could see that the people were disappointed. Then a person pointed. The flamingos were crowded into some trees a half-mile from the pond. The truck turned and approached the roosting birds. 

“Ready,” squawked the lead bird.

The others were fluttering their feathers, struggling to be still.

The truck was right there. The people’s faces were visible and cameras were raised.

“Now,” cried the lead bird.

They all took flight and swarmed the truck. They squawked and snapped at hats and hair, swooping in and out until all the people had ducked back into the truck and cameras were hidden. The truck was in motion again. It turned around and began to head away.

The lead bird cried out again and the flock followed him back to the trees, where they perched again and begin to preen themselves. They chuckled to themselves about how clever they were and couldn’t wait until they had a chance to do something like this again.

Big Red yawned and backed himself into the warthog hole. His plan for himself still involved sleeping the day away, but he knew he needed to participate in the shenanigans. The people loved to see the lions and they would. Red looked across the meadow at his favorite tree. The warthog family was curled up and asleep at its base. Soon they’d work to find a way to have the warthogs sit in the tree as Red himself often did, but for now, they’d take the soft spot at the tree’s base. 

Mommy had found another hole nearby and was snoozing hard. She didn’t really care to sleep in the tree as much as he did, and was really enjoying the change in environment. To be honest, Big Red had never realized that warthog holes could be so comfortable. The underground was much cooler than the tree. 

But the tree is what gave him is status. He was King, and all the animals looked up to him for guidance. And he couldn’t wait to hear how things had gone on this day. He hoped that the people had enjoyed the change and maybe there would be more food.

If anything though, it had been fun.

The truck rolled up on the tree and the people were visibly disappointed that there were no lions there. Red pulled himself part way out of the warthog hole and watched the people struggle to come to grips with a pod of warthogs lying where the lions should be. 

Big Red sat up straight and began to call out. He roared. And again. And again. The people noticed and the truck turned to approach. Mommy crawled out of her hole and joined him. Roaring roaring roaring.

They were surrounded by the clicks of shutters and the whoops of excited people. There were lions here after all! Big Red smiled at Mommy and she giggled. 

The zebras were waiting. As soon as the truck was close enough, they pinned their ears back and charged, braying and hollering as much as they could. Their noses and hooves were still coated with the red mud as they charged the truck. 

The people yelped in shock as the driver immediately turned and sped away, heading back toward where ever the people came from each day. 

The zebras chased for a while longer then stopped, trotting back to the watering hole where all the animals were now gathered and chatting about the exciting events of the day. Big Red and Mommy strolled up, proud of their extended family.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” asked a zebra, excitedly.

Big Red smiled. “Oh, I have some ideas!”