Here’s a cute cub from my visit to a lion orphanage in South Africa a while back.

Signing a liability waiver, with its cold legal language about personal health and the very real risks of injury or worse, quickly stripped away any lingering “Disney” illusions I might have had beforehand.

I soon realized that stepping into an enclosure with these animals was a temporary, fragile truce with a predator that has evolved over millions of years to hunt agnostically anything it deems edible.

Even as babies, lion cubs carry an intensity that demands total presence. The first thing I learned was that you never, ever turn your back to a lion – no matter how small and cute-looking these furry creatures are.

In the bush, a turned back is a universal signal of vulnerability – an invitation to a potential meal – and even a cub’s play-instinct is hardwired to exploit that moment of distraction.

At some point during my hour-long visit to the orphanage, I got distracted and learned this the hard way when my left shoulder was gouged by the above cub’s razor-sharp claw. Scarred for life? No, but definitely a memorable experience which I will honor by including my cute attacker in the new safari book.