When I was a young girl, I used to lie in bed and watch the lions, cheetahs, tiger and other big cats stroll across my ceiling and walls in beautiful colors. All these pictures I clipped out of National Geographic and other nature magazine that featured stories on these amazing creatures. Not long after my obsession with large cats began to manifest, I started asking for a lion for holidays such as my birthday and Christmas. Of course, my mother, the sensible one, would never allow me to have a lion, but I used to dream of them often, and still do.

As soon as I found out most big cats I was obsessed with were from Africa, I became intent on going to Africa. I read many stories about Africa, watched any movie I could get my hand on about people living in Africa and researched the country that was home to my beloved creatures. At age 27, however, I had still not been to Africa, and the closest I have ever gotten to a large cat is at the Knoxville Zoo-where I was able to be face-to-face with the creature of my desires for a few small, life-changing moments.

Through the Lens

My dad once took a picture of a lion at the Knoxville Zoo. The picture is in black and white, and the lion is behind bars. His intense eyes stare into mine each time I look over at him. I can just imagine my father standing near the bars, camera poised, shutter open, waiting and waiting and waiting for that perfect moment when the lion would look up at him, directly in the eyes, and allow my father to snap a picture. When I arrived at the Knoxville Zoo, almost 20 years later, I took the same lens my father used, stood near the same lion cage, and waited for that moment.

I was not alone, however, behind the visitor’s area of the Knoxville Zoo. A young man by the name of Michael Roberts stood near me, watching my reaction to these creatures he tends to every day. I had come to the zoo just for this story, this interaction with the lions.

When I initially called the zoo, I spoke with Jennifer, who did not quite understand what I wanted to do. I guess the reason was because I really, really, really wanted to get in the cage with the lions; to touch them, to nuzzle noses with then like I do with my cats at home; to roll in the grass and fulfill my life-long fantasy from childhood. Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for the cats, they are still wild animals; even Michael, who works with them daily, does not attempt to play with them. Jennifer finally set up a time for me to visit the zoo, meet Michael, and maybe get a chance to see the lions up close. It was that chance that I took on a sunny afternoon for less than ten minutes that will stay with me for a lifetime.

Lions at Last

After speaking with Michael for 20 minutes about his work with the Knoxville Zoo, we left our post at the Safari Café and followed signs to the Big Cats. Michael led me past a short, green wooden gate and down a small path covered with pine needles. We stopped in front of a tall, brown wooden fence like one might see at the entrance door to an island paradise, and I waited while he unlocked the two bolts. Just past that door, I stopped and looked. We were not yet in the cage, but three lions, one male and two female, began heaving themselves from the ground to see what the two-leggeds were up to.

Michael unlocked the chain-linked fence that served as the keeper’s area, and we entered the den. He set about locking fences back, readying medicine and horsemeat, while I stood transfixed on the sight before me. The three lions were talking towards us, large shoulders rising with every step, and tails swishing behind them. One by one they approached the fence.

Sekaye’s brown eyes peered out from behind the chain-linked fence she has come to know as home. From two feet away, this creature of the African savannah lived up to all the wonders written about her species. Her golden brown skin stretched to show each strong muscle as the slowly walked back and forth in front of the fence. Joined shortly by Hubert and Sylvan, the three creatures drank water cautiously, always keeping one eye focused on the new visitor – me.

Michael tended the lions while I readied my camera. After a few moments of stunned observation, my hands began to work their way across the familiar lens of my camera. Adjusting the shutter and aperture for the appropriate light, I kept my eyes fixed on the lions. Sekaye, busy eating a chunk of horsemeat Michael had used to disguise her heartburn medicine, no longer cared about the stranger at her door. I t was Hubert who stayed standing in front of me, just his face from territorial fights, and focus on his eyes with my camera. I broke eye contact with him to raise my camera for the shots I wanted. He did not flinch. He stood strong, noble and regal like a lion could and allowed me to take pictures of him and his den mates.

When Sekaye was finished eating, she took one more look at me, and turned to enjoy the last of the day’s sunlight. Hubert and Sylvan followed shortly after her, and as I left their den, the three lions watched me from the grass.

A day later I picked up my film from the processor. To my amazement, I stared down in my hands at the picture of Hubert that resembled the same picture my father took, more than 20 years ago. The picture now sits nestled in the frame of the picture of the lion my dad took, and when I look over the two pictures, I remember Hubert and his den mates, and the day I spent five minutes with the creatures of my childhood desires.