The Lion is a fierce, proud creature. Large and powerful, he commands the respect of all creatures of the jungle. He has giant claws on each foot, teeth like scimitars and a great shock of thick brown main that gives him a regal appearance.

He is a great hunter, with instinct and confidence and an unwavering ferocity. When the Lion hunts, all jungle denizens give him ample space.

And, perched in a hammock strung high above the ground between two trees, the marsupial glances over the top of his reading glasses to notice the King of Beasts as He commences the hunt. Our fuzzy physicist puts down the current selection of the Tome of the Month Club and watches, confident in his altitude, as the Lion Picks up the Scent of his Prey.

The wombat watches, transfixed, as the Lion crouches in a dense thicket, his golden eyes fixed unblinkingly on his prey, unseen at this moment by the spectating scientist. Each leonine muscle is taut, there is no movement in the thicket save the irregular twitch of the black and golden furry tip of the Lion's tail.

"Ah the awesome majesty, the cruel and beautiful pageant of the hunt", murmurs the marsupial to himself, so quietly that his voice is heard by neither predator nor prey. "The constant, the inevitable life and death struggle of the jungle, at once beautiful and terrifying", he whispers as he straightens his fez and watches even more carefully.

On the forest floor below, the wombat, watching carefully, spots the unfortunate intended victims of this terrible spectacle. Although the jungle brush is too thick to allow a clear view of the prey, our fuzzy friend can see four figures blunder, unaware of the terrible danger, ever closer to the great golden hunter, poised to strike.

The intended victims, blissfully unaware of the danger, cavort and play together, gradually moving closer, ever closer to the thicket containing the King of Beasts. The wombat wishes to call out to them, warn them of their impending doom, but as every scientist knows, the Law of the Jungle is stern, difficult, and sometimes cruel. Instead he watches, rapt, as the inevitable finally occurs.

In the blink of an eye, a plethora of events occurs. The lion, all strength and speed and size and teeth, erupts from the thicket, bellowing his greatest roar. Even the wombat, secure in his hammock and prepared for the event, shudders at the sheer power of the pounce as the lion leaps from hiding, roaring at the Top of His magnificent Lungs. The four small victims scatter in four directions as the teeth and claws and main descend on them. They flee with incredible speed and the great beast's pounce meets nothing but ground. As his mighty roar gives way to a growl of frustration, four golden streaks make their way to the dense underbrush of the jungle.

The King of Beasts cannot believe his eyes. He picks up each paw, one by one, half expecting to find at least ONE unfortunate victim of his terrible wrath. To no avail.

And incredibly, amazingly, the wombat watches, mouth agape, as all four members of the intended victimry turn and attack the predator!

Four golden streaks make for the great beast. And the wombat, leaning precariously forward in his hammock, at last sees the species of these fearless victims-turned-avengers. Two tiny lion cubs clamp their tiny pointed teeth on the ears of the great beast, one lion club jumps onto the back of the aggressor and the fourth disappears underneath the magnificent hunter.

The lion roars again at the Top of His Lungs, shaking his head violently, trying to dislodge his grinning, gritting offspring. The cub on his back hangs on for dear life as the great beast fights back with all his strength. But the fourth cub proves to be the great one's undoing. The clever, fearless cub's teeth find the great beast's most ticklish spot and dig in with a cub's earnestness and the Lion collapses on the jungle floor, laughing and squirming and guffawing and trying in vain to dislodge his attackers.

"Get him, boys", growls the lioness, heretofore unseen, lying nearby in yet another jungle thicket. The cubs obey, each one finding a ticklish spot on their Regal father, and plying it with the ferocious intensity found only in a lion. The father lion is paralyzed, laughing and gasping and squirming as the cubs tickle him mercilessly.

The wombat watches open mouthed as the cubs tickle the Great Beast beyond the limits of his endurance. He rolls, He shudders, He guffaws and gasps and laughs like only a Lion can. And bub watches the spectacle of the hunt unfold in a most bizarre turn of events.

The life and death struggle continues for an eternity, the growling of the cubs, the roars and laughter of the Lion, the purring of the lioness, and the open-mouthed wonder of the watching wombat, until, finally exhausted, the golden-brown family collapses in a heap on the jungle floor, panting and smiling and chuckling gently.

"All right, boys", sez the lioness, climbing gracefully to her feet as she comes out of her thicket, "it's time for dinner". She turns down a trail and all five lions, first the four cubs and then the vanquished hero, trot after her into the deep forest.

The wombat, staring after the family, rubs his fuzzy nose and murmurs to himself. "Strange and wonderful indeed are the ways of the Jungle". He smiles, picks up his mighty tome and resumes his reading.

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