Hyena: Doglike, but like no dog anyone would want as a pet.

I am in the middle of reading "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel. And I have come across this very intriguing description of this predator we all love to hate: hyena. Frankly speaking, I could not even begin to give a description close to what Mr. Martel has here, although it's obvious that I am not a writer of his caliber. I was impressed by the description he gave earlier in the book for three toed sloths, reminding me of my sister (who broke out to laughing at the similarity; we were in joking terms anyways) but sloths haven't had much influence in my life as much as hyenas have. I'm not saying I am drawn to the animals myself. My dad watches too much of National Geographic and Animal Planet to let us the snippets off of the wildlife in MasaiMara. Of course we hate hyenas; my mom top on the list. So here it is: the spotted hyena.

I am not one to hold a prejudice against any animal, but it is a plain fact that the spotted hyena is not well served by its appearance. It is ugly beyond redemption. Its thick neck and high shoulders that slope to the hindquarters look as if they’ve come from a discarded prototype for the giraffe, and its shaggy, coarse coat seems to have been patched together from the leftovers of creation. The colour is a bungled mix of tan, black, yellow, grey, with the spots having none of the classy ostentation of a leopard’s rosettes; they look rather like the symptoms of a skin disease, a virulent form of mange. The head is broad and too massive, with a high forehead, like that of a bear, but suffering from a receding hairline, and with ears that look ridiculously mouse-like, large and round, when they haven’t been torn off in battle. The mouth is forever open and panting. The nostrils are too big. The tail is scraggly and unwagging. The gait is shambling. All the parts put together look doglike, but like no dog anyone would want as a pet.

But I had not forgotten Father’s words. These were not cowardly carrion-eaters. If National Geographic portrayed them as such, it was because National Geographic filmed during the day. It is when the moon rises that the hyena’s day starts, and it proves to be a devastating hunter. Hyenas attack in packs whatever animal can be run down, its flanks opened while still in full motion. They go for zebras, gnus and water buffaloes, and not only the old or the infirm in a herd-full-grown members too. They are hardy attackers, rising up from buttings and kickings immediately, never giving up for simple lack of will. And they are clever; anything that can be distracted from its mother is good. The ten-minute-old gnu is a favourite dish, but hyenas also eat young lions and young rhinoceros. They are diligent when their efforts are rewarded. In fifteen minutes flat, all that will be left of a zebra is the skull, which may yet be dragged away and gnawed down at leisure by young ones in the lair. Nothing goes to waste; even grass upon which blood has been spilt will be eaten. Hyenas’ stomachs swell visibly as they swallow huge chunks of kill. If they are lucky, they become so full they have difficulty moving. Once they’ve digested their kill, they cough up dense hairballs, which they pick clean of edibles before rolling in them. Accidental cannibalism is a common occurrence during the excitement of a feeding; in reaching for a bite of zebra, a hyena will take in the ear or nostril of a clan member, no hard feelings intended. The hyena feels no disgust at his mistake. Its delights are too many to admit to disgust at anything.

In fact, a hyena’s catholicity of taste is so indiscriminate it nearly forces admiration. A hyena will drink from water even as it is urinating in it. The animal has another original use for its urine: in hot, dry weather it will cool itself by relieving its bladder on the ground and stirring up a refreshing mud bath with its paws. Hyenas snack on the excrement of herbivores with clucks of pleasure. It’s an open question as to what hyenas won’t eat. They eat their own kind (the rest of those whose ears and noses they gobbled down as appetizers) once they’re dead, after a period of aversion that lasts about one day. They will even attack motor vehicles-the headlights, the exhaust pipe, the side mirrors. It is not their gastric juices that limit hyenas, but the power of their jaws, which is formidable.

One last word: Disgusting. But nature created such animals. It's got a purpose, may be. I believe in the food chain (although I have no idea where hyenas lay on that chain). My dad and mom watch lions attack and prey on seemingly harmless herbivores as if they were watching a sports match; they are always cheering for the food rather than the eater. Me, I say if all the lions failed to kill the buffaloes, or zebras, or impalas then they'd die and I'd hate to see such beautiful animals wiped out of the face of the Earth. But it's not so much for the beauty of the cats that I cheer for them, or rather not participate with my parents' cheering for their food, I do that because it's nature and nature has its rules. And we are just a plan of nature, nothing we can do about it. Still I hate them hyenas.