It was our last morning at Tswehe, a camp in the Tuli Block in the south of Botswana. Everyone was up early for their morning coffee and the group was buzzing with excitement. We had no idea just how exciting our morning was about to get.

One of the special features of the camp is a sunken hide overlooking a waterhole. The area is arid, which means that the waterhole attracts a lot of life, especially in September at the heart of the dry season when we were visiting. We had been fortunate enough to see cumulatively hundreds of elephants, zebra, kudu, impala, banded mongoose, baboons and a variety of birds drinking from the water.

On this particular morning we were up early in the hopes that we would see a nocturnal creature such as a hyena coming to drink in the first morning light before heading off to rest during the heat of the day. We had heard them calling all night with multiple calls coming from the same place and so we assumed they were on a kill.

Just as the blackness began to lift from the sky, we made a quick dash through the dry riverbed in front of camp and across the silty grey soil towards the hide. The hide smelt muddy from a young elephant bull that had lavishly coated us during his messy mud bath the day before.

We all found our respective spots and settled into the kind of stillness and silence necessary to keep animals unaware of our presence. Our first visitors were a flock of double banded sandgrouse, followed by a business of banded mongoose. These were soon rushed off by a pair of black backed jackal.

Our radio crackled to life and Lloyd whispered from camp, “be super still in there. A spotted hyena just came in from the back of the hide but either smelt or heard you and headed back where it came from”. This made all of us even more serious about being absolutely still and quiet.

Not ten minutes later, a tawny bulked emerged around the left side of the hide. With our eyes at water height, we were at paw and leg height to a lioness! She loomed above us. There were hushed gasps as everyone took in the high definition detail of one of the world's largest cats, close up. I always thought I fully appreciated the size of a lion until this morning. She moved around to the opposite side of the water hole and crouched down to drink. We were now eye to eye with a wild lion.

The lioness knew we were there as she would still at the tiniest whisper or movement. She was, however, more confident than most of the animals that came to drink here. With gorgeous morning light on her, she began to drink.

It didn’t take long before we realised that something strange was happening. At certain angles, when she lifted her head, we saw water pour from her throat. From what we could see, it seemed that she had a hole in her oesophagus and as she swallowed, water was forced through this hole, with only some of it making it to her stomach. Due to this injury, the lioness crawled forward into the water so that her front legs and chest were immersed. It seemed she was doing this to get the angle of her head straightened out so that less would escape with each sip. It also meant that she drank for much longer than the typical lion. It took her about 20 minutes to get her fill where the average lion will drink for only 5 or so minutes.

Everyone sat in a stunned silence. Some of this was due to the presence of a lion so close but more than that, it was a sense of awe at being witness to such a vulnerable moment. Head down and with the sound of lapping water possibly masking the sound of potential danger approaching, this animal’s awareness was lowered. And yet, here she was, tolerant of our presence and allowing us to be there in that moment in time with her. This lioness would have been there whether or not we were present but in the moment I couldn’t help being filled with gratitude that she would allow us there. The same sentiment rippled through the group and only more so because of her particularly vulnerable physical situation. We felt we had witnessed something truly special.

Upon emerging from the hide (after she was long gone of course) we rushed back to the lodge to chat to Lloyd the owner and head guide. He was well aware of this lioness and had, in fact, been trying to get a wildlife vet there to help her for the last 15 months (showing just how well she had managed with this injury)! We believe she had sustained the injury from a horn to her throat during a hunt. The closest vet was a full day’s travel distance away and despite every attempt to line up their timing, they would locate this lioness either the day before or after the vet’s prolonged visit. Subsequent to our stay, they were successful in getting the vet there to attend to her and Lloyd reported that she is in fine physical health today.

It is an incredible story of resilience. When we saw her, her muscle tone and coat were fairly good; proving that she was hunting, killing and eating sufficiently. She had also developed a technique for drinking that, although not perfect, served her well enough. Seeing animals in pain is always awful but, in my experience, there are countless examples of animals beating the odds. Years ago I watched a zebra with barely any flesh left on its chest return to full health over the space of a few weeks. I've seen a female cheetah raising 4 small cubs that had an enormous gash from a warthog tusk across her front leg and shoulder. She would lie in the same spot for 3 - 4 days with her cubs licking her wound clean and then get up and hunt when they were desperately in need of food before resting for another few days. A few weeks later she was fully healed. I've seen old lions injured in territorial fights, that are left with broken limbs and extreme wounds from the mauling, live for many more years beyond the fight. It is also not uncommon for elephants that have lost their trunks in snares to heal and learn to eat and drink with their shortened appendage. These animals are tough and they are incredibly capable of handling infection, beyond anything we'd believe.

From what I can tell an important aspect of this capacity to heal is that these animals have no story about their lives. No thinking about a past or a future and thus no ruminating on what was and was could have been. They do not appear to have any sort of negative internal dialogue nor any idea of what is possible or impossible to live through. It is important that they deal purely with the sensory input moment by moment. Without any kind of story about her situation, this lioness was simply just getting on with it.

I in no way wish to sound harsh or callous. I do not enjoy seeing an animal in pain but despite our concern for this lion, it was a reminder that in life pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. So often the worst part of our situation is not so much the pure physical sensation but the meaning we make about it.

As we step into a new year, we all wish for smooth paths and easy journeys. But life, like the wild, is unpredictable. There will be challenges - some seen, some hidden beneath the surface. This lioness, despite her hardship, does not dwell on what was lost. She simply moves forward, adapting, surviving, and thriving in her own way.

Her story is a powerful reminder that resilience isn’t about avoiding struggle - it’s about how we rise within it. Pain may be inevitable, but suffering remains a choice. Like her, may we face the year ahead with quiet strength, a steady heart, and the unwavering will to keep going.

As you venture into your own wilderness, we wish you courage, resilience, and the spirit to embrace it all.

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