The scene, at least the opening moments of it, couldn't be more peaceful. A herd of African buffalo, perhaps 100 in number, meanders quietly along a riverbank. Rather than traveling in a tightly-knit group to assure their safety, the herd scatters itself along several hundred yards of riverfront, as if lulled by the serenity of the setting and the quietness of the day. The lead bull is on his own, well out in front of the rest of the herd. What he doesn't see, at least initially, is the pride of lions straight ahead. He continues to unknowingly draw his herd straight into the trap. The lions crouch. They watch. They wait. And then—they attack! The buffalo spin around and break, helter-skelter, into open stampede.
But they're no match for the lions when it comes to speed. Lightning fast, the pride closes in. As if in instant agreement with one another, they target a young calf, already trailing the rest of the herd. In a matter of seconds they bring him down, tumbling with him into the river.
The lions battle to drag the calf up the bank. Almost unimaginably, he's still fighting back. He's not giving up. Even now, he's not accepting defeat. Suddenly, a new element enters the scene. A crocodile, evidently lurking nearby below the river surface, launches his own attack. He clamps onto the calf's hind legs, even as the lions try to haul him up the bank. For a few agonizingly long seconds the calf is torn both ways. Finally, the croc concedes, and the lions get their prey on dry land.
